Heading For A New Life Read online

  He watched in fascination how her eyes closed, how her chin lifted and she all rushed towards him, and he unconsciously reached out to her, burning and

  being burned by someone else's breath. Blood rustled in my ears, drawn out, dully, overshadowing all sounds around, but Emma's sonorous voice broke through the cotton wool, making her eyes flinch and open at the same time.

  — Oh, you are here! Laura peered out from behind Chris and immediately stepped back, climbing the step. Diligently avoiding looking him in the eye, she said firmly:

  — I hope you understood me. I'll be here at the hospital until tomorrow night. You can be free.

  Sharpturning aroundLaurahurriedup,holding backso that not start jumping two steps. What was that just now? And why does everything inside respond with a painful, sweet weight, and your heart pounding like zapoloshny? Pushing open the first door that turned out to be the entrance to the dermatology department, Laura ducked in, leaned heavily against the wall and pressed her palms to her cheeks. Part of her wanted to go back downstairs, grab his T-shirt and press to her lips, feel his hands on her waist, hips ... And part of her dreamed of running without turning around, calling dad and demanding to fire him immediately. To Christopher Labert and on mile to her not approached. Breathing gradually leveled out heart slowed down your run. Laura deep sighed and looked back: the dermatologists were always quiet and calm, no one was in a hurry, did not run and did not shout. It seems that no one even noticed that she was standing there. Leaving the wall, Laura straightened her shoulders and walked towards the elevators.

  — Am I in the way? Emma let go of the doors and walked over to Chris, stopping behind him. The doors slammed loudly, finally returning to reality.

  — Not. - He turned and smiled weakly, then went around Emma and, to her deepest regret, went out into the hall. She had no choice but to follow.

  — May I congratulate you on an unscheduled weekend? She said again as he walked to the dining room door.

  —You could say that, ”Chris grinned wryly. Emma no longer asked permission, as a friend sat down next to her, but it was even for the best - listening to her chatter, he almost did not think that he had almost kissed Laura. And that the thought of this was given off by warmth somewhere very deep inside.

  Laura turned out to be true to her word - the next day he saw her only briefly, before the operation. But Chris was no stranger to not sleeping for days, and, contrary to her suggestion, he spent those days nearby. Several hours of sleep in the car, several glasses of coffee - like the rest of the hospital, he became infected with anticipation, which became more and more anxious every hour. The operation lasted seventeen hours, and all this time another bunch of interns showed up in the hall from time to time, enthusiastically discussing what was happening in the operating room.

  “I'll be out in half an hour. Can you pick me up? "

  A message from Laura found Chris in the cafeteria, queuing up for another drink. Dawn had just begun, it was half past four in the morning, chilly and chilly. Leaning against the hood and placing the second glass next to him, he carefully sipped from his and rubbed his eyes wearily - for almost two days on his feet they still made themselves felt. Laura came out a quarter of an hour later, looked around, saw him and slowly walked towards him.

  — Good morning. She smiled wearily, nodded gratefully, taking the coffee.

  — Are you tired?

  — Not at all! Shaking her head, Laura drained her glass in three gulps and, crushing it,

  with a deft movement she sent it to the nearest urn. - Home?

  Chris threw open the door, walked around the car, got inside and turned the key.

  — I heard everythingwas it successful?

  Silence was the answer: Laura was fast asleep with her cheek pressed against the seat. Chris chuckled briefly and pushed the pedal down. We got to the house in a matter of minutes - at this time the streets are predictably deserted. Parking in front of the house, Chris glanced at Laura - she did not even move. Opening the door from her side, he took out the bag lying on her lap, hung it on his shoulder, put a bunch of keys on his finger and carefully took Laura in his arms. The alarm blinked, locking the car, the front door clicked, the elevator jingled melodiously. Having entered the apartment, Chris did not turn on the light - the sky was already filled with colors, there was half an hour before sunrise, no more. He put her on the bed, took off her shoes and covered her with a blanket, and he quietly left, slamming the door behind him. An hour later, Marcus was supposed to drive up, and all that remained was to hand over his shift to him.

  Despite fatigue and almost sleepless days, after returning home, Chris could not sleep. I just sat in the dark and stared at the wall in front of me. The vague outlines of the photographs were difficult to discern, but he already knew what was hanging there: fragments of a past life. The one that was gone forever, but for which he still sometimes clung to, imagining what could have been if it were. Stars and Stripes Outlines, White Spots

  — dress uniform, smiles, joy, anticipation of something new, incredible - when did he forget how to think about tomorrow? Today, looking at Laura, Chris saw himself in her - the same attempts not to think about what will happen next, to live from morning to home, and so on in a circle. Did he dream of such a life when he was sitting?

  But the truth was not even that, but that with each new day he became more and more imbued with someone else's life. I was saturated with her: other people's problems, fears, pain. Laura dragged on, getting closer and closer to what was safely hidden deep inside. At first, she stopped arousing contempt. Then he really felt sorry for her, and now he almost wanted to take care! Chris didn't want to get bogged down in this. Didn't want to get bogged down in Laura.

  He harbored no illusions about his future - either now to guard someone else's life all his life, or to gradually sink to the bottom. You can, of course, save money and open a small transport company, but the reputation of a criminal will hardly allow you to do this. Can he, in such a situation, hope to one day create a normal family? Chris chuckled bitterly at the darkness - he had already tried once. Yes, the choice was not the best and does not mean at all that the second time he would not be lucky. But who wants to connect the future with the murderer of the previous wife?

  Taking a deep breath, Chris abruptly rubbed his face with his palms and stood up to go out onto the balcony. Seattle was already awake, but the noise of the street barely reached the tenth floor. But in the gap between the skyscrapers opposite one could see a piece of the lake. Now bustle reigned there: ferries scurried, transporting residents to work from one coast to another. But Chris knew many quiet places in which to relax in silence. I knew and had never visited a single one, and after all, almost three months had passed since my return! What did he spend this time on?

  Half an hour later, Hammer was hurrying through the busy streets towards Discovery Park. In mid-June there were a lot of tourists there, but now, at eight in the morning, it was hardly possible to meet a crowd there. As soon as you step on the path, thick branches of alder and maple closed over your head, rustled, whispered, and you wanted to breathe, finally breathe deeply. Legs themselves carried forward, in detour popular routes, to the bay Puget, whose rocky shore was continuously licked by the waves of the pacified, gripped Pacific Ocean. Seagulls screamed over the water, and from time to time a lone sailboat sailed towards the exit from the bay.

  Taking off his shoes and rolling up his light cotton trousers almost to his knees, Chris took the moccasins in his hands and slowly walked along the water's edge. Here it is - real freedom! Not constrained by any terms and conditions! Delight rose from his chest, gurgled in his throat, and, unable to restrain himself, Chris spread his arms and screamed, releasing all the weight that had accumulated over the years when he was deprived of all this. Under tightly closed eyelids glowed crimson red

  — the sun slithered over his face, and the air, saturated with iodine and freedom, rushed into his lungs in short, ragged
gulps.

  He felt life. Right now, the real one, the one that almost stopped appreciating, having fallen into the cycle of routine and monotony. It was so clear in my head, as it is only after a sleepless night, when the brain is working to the limit of its capabilities. Chris sat down on the hard grass near the shore and stretched out his legs. The West Point Lighthouse is the westernmost point of the park and all of Seattle, from here it was almost invisible, only a red roof and a piece of a white wall. But Chris knew that tourists were gathering there now, taking numerous photos as a keepsake to take with them a piece of his hometown. The city he loved so much, the city he longed for so long.

  The sun was dim, the sky was cloudy, but I didn't want to leave. Chris lay on the grass with his eyes closed and listened. The rustle of waves, the cries of seagulls, the splash of water on stones and the distant whistle of another ferry. Grass rustled right above his ear, scratching his cheek whenever a gusty wind blew from the bay. He completely forgot that life is here, around, that it is not the same as he used to. And that he was only thirty-three. For a short moment I wanted to believe that anything is possible. That there is only good, bright ahead, you just have to stretch your hand. That there is no past, only a future that he has yet to write ...

  — Oh, there is someone here!

  Chris reluctantly opened his eyes and slowly sat up, meeting the gaze of a wide-smiling blonde in her twenties. Nearby, her friend shuffled shyly from foot to foot, hissing loudly in her ear:

  — Let's get out of here, Grace, you never know what he's doing here alone.

  — Come on, ”Grace smiled, giving Chris a more attentive look. - It is immediately evident: in front of you is a decent man. You're not a maniac, are you?

  — Not a maniac. - Chris put his elbows on his knees and bowed his head, squinting in the sun with a smile, but he was in no hurry to continue the conversation.

  — They all say so! Snorted her friend, pulling Grace with her.

  — Have a good day, ”she waved her hand, succumbing to persuasion. After seeing them off, Chris grinned: you could meet pretty girls, spend a day with them, or maybe even a night. With Grace, that's for sure - she didn't even try to hide her interest. So what was his problem?

  The mood has soured. Sighing in annoyance, Chris got up, brushed off the sand that stuck to his trousers, put on his shoes and walked to the car. All the dreams and thoughts that had just been filled with lightness evaporated, and reality crushed it down with a load, reminding him that in fact he is nobody and will remain nobody for the rest of his life. And nothing good awaits ahead, only hopeless loneliness and emptiness with rare bright interspersing of meetings with Denise and her family. Previously, Chris never strived for loneliness, moreover, he did not like him. Now circumstances decided everything for him, but did he really want to be alone?

  The parking lot was no longer crowded, a line of cars drove up to the park entrance, dreaming of a better place. Chris got behind the wheel, starting the engine, and suddenly took a deep breath, frowning slightly. After the clean air of the bay, after the sea breeze blew out all the smells from the lungs, the aroma of medicines and, weaker, bitter orange was felt in the cabin too clearly. Chris never paid attention to how Laura smelled. I didn’t think about it, passing this information by myself. But today it seemed that the car was literally saturated with it from the inside. Exhaling loudly, Chris rolled the window down and hit the gas

  suppressing the urge to stick his head out of the window.

  Something had changed between them, but what: neither Chris nor Laura could say for sure. The tension was still in the air, but now it was different, more viscous, thicker, heavy. They hardly spoke to each other, avoiding eye contact once again. Chris picked her up, waited and drove her home, trying not to think that Laura suddenly became too much. She seemed to fill every free cell of the surrounding space, reminding herself of herself even when she was far away. It annoyed, unsettled, but the more he tried not to think about her, the more she occupied all his thoughts.

  Chris tried not to look in her direction when she was near, but his gaze inadvertently slid along the thin profile, noting the pallor, which only became larger, on the shadows that lay under the eyes. Laura sometimes forgot herself, sighed heavily, looking out the window, and several times he noticed tears glistening in her eyes. And the look no longer seemed impudent, impudent, on the contrary - it acquired the expression of a hunted animal, which is about to be shot between the eyes. By the end of the next week, Chris broke down. Watching her once again purse her lips, peering into the darkness of the streets, he decided:

  — What happened?

  — What? - Laura, startled, turned around.

  — What happened, you are not yourself.

  — Why is this suddenly beginning to worry you? - The voice sounded dry, but Chris was surprised to discern a note of resentment in it. Is she offended? But to whom, to him?

  — I see that you are worried about something, - he answered evenly, turning away to the road. “If you don’t want to, don’t tell, but if it’s about your safety, I need to know.

  —Security, ”Laura whispered bitterly. “Everyone around me is so concerned about my safety!

  — Did I do something wrong?

  — No, what are you. She smiled sourly. - It's just that dad also called today, worried. The trial is next week.

  — Is it just that?

  The car stopped at an intersection, a red light came on, and Chris turned around again, staring at Laura. In the semi-darkness of the salon, she seemed a ghost, pale, with burning eyes. Only the face, lit red, suddenly seemed demonically attractive. And the way she looked at him, somehow demanding, too deep - it was unnerving. A wave went down his spine, burning from occiput to tailbone, and Chris involuntarily shrugged his shoulders.

  — What, maybe something else? She whispered, barely audible.

  — You know better, - Chris answered her in tone, glancing over her face, returning to her parted lips again and again. The tension that had accumulated all this time was looking for a way out, forcing the heart to break against the chest with each new breath. His brain flashed with an understanding, sharp, clear - he saw in her a woman, not an employer. The woman who looked at him with such a look that there was no doubt that she also sees him. He sees, feels, stretches ...

  Behind them loudly signaled - the traffic light changed its light to green. Recovering himself, Chris turned away and threw sharply, forcing the Hammer to take off. His heart continued to pound, as if he had just run a hundred meters, his palms were sweating, and

  I just wanted to laugh and bang my head on the steering wheel at the same time.

  —Tell me, how did you get the Medal of Honor? Laura asked suddenly. The silence was unnerving, but as soon as the question left her lips, she immediately regretted it. “You don't have to say if you don’t want to,” she added awkwardly, her fingers clasped nervously.

  — Why did you decide to ask about this right now? Chris said slowly, glancing at her.

  — I know almost nothing about you. Laura shrugged.

  — You know about the medal.

  — This information was in your file. But, I must confess, then my attention was attracted by something else.

  — For which I went to jail, - Chris smiled bitterly. - Understand.

  — So, you also understand that then it shocked me. And, I must admit, it is still amazing. But ... you are not like that. She was confused as she caught his eye. “I mean, you’re not like Dom, you’re not one of those who behave like that…” Laura finally got confused and fell silent.

  — What am I? Chris asked softly as he turned into her street.

  — Serious. And responsible. - Laura looked up to the ceiling and thought. - It seems to me that you are very disciplined, although sometimes you quickly lose your temper.

  Chris chuckled cheerfully: he seemed to be amused by the conversation, but in fact the thought first occurred to him: what exactly does he know about Eleanor Sm
ith? She knows that she loves a double Americano in the morning, knows that she loves her job, and also that she wrinkles her nose funny when a ray of sun hits her face. Loves the smell of bitter orange and pink sheets. Is it a lot or a little? And how could he remember all this, why?

  — I was a pilot flying a fighter-bomber. This, of course, does not mean anything to you. Chris smiled and craned his neck, looking for a spot in the parking lot at the house. - There were two of us in the cockpit: I am the pilot and the navigator. Covering our troops in Iraq, seven sorties. For the last, seventh time, we were hit and had to catapult directly into enemy territory. Together with the navigator, we fought off the militants for an hour before reinforcements came for us. To be honest… ”Chris parked and turned off the engine. Then he turned around and said seriously: - I still don't know why I was awarded.

  Laura was shocked and silent, trying to digest what she had just heard. Of course, she remembered that Chris was an officer and flew, but for some reason it seemed to her that the rich son of successful parents was sitting out in the Pentagon or at nearby bases, and did not participate in real hostilities.

  — You're going? - His question brought out of the stupor, Laura hastily nodded and pulled the handle, jumping out into the street. For a short moment it seemed that in front of her was a completely stranger whom she had seen for the first time in her life. Thinking about it was strange and a little scary. Meanwhile, Chris had already walked around the Hammer and opened the front door, stepping aside to let her inside. Laura could bring herself to look at him only in the elevator and sighed softly in relief: no, in front of her was the same Chris, who had already become familiar. The direct gaze of dark eyes, a clean-shaven chin and tightly compressed lips - confidence and calmness. Now it is clear where they came from. It is also understandable how he was able to survive in prison and return as a normal person. Or maybe he just hasn't been normal for a long time? ..