Heading For A New Life Page 3

  — I sold my parents' house, but all the money went to pay off debts, - said Denise, looking at Chris with huge sad eyes. - I also sold your house, you have half the money left, about four hundred thousand. I put them on the account, when you go out - there will be something to live on for the first time.

  — Hope you get the lawyer money from there. Chris smiled softly.

  Denise brushed it off.

  — I have enough cases and clients, so that I took the last from my best friend.

  — Don't make it up. - Steel sparkled in dark brown, almost black eyes. Denise involuntarily shuddered - Chris was changing. From a good-natured, smiling guy he turned into a tough person with a cynical outlook on life. It would be strange if the prison did not break it, did not alter it, sculpting something of its own. But Denise hoped to the last that this would not happen to her Chris. As it turned out, she was wrong. A year later, a re-examination of the case was scheduled, reducing the term to seven years. But this was the maximum, it was impossible to count on less.

  — Hey, look, I'm getting married. Denise smiled happily, showing a photograph of a tall, under seven feet, man with bright blue eyes.

  — Have you finally got yourself a Viking? Chris chuckled.

  He has already served three years. And it seemed - eternity. And now, at the sight of a smiling friend, the isolation from the outside world was especially acute. There, outside the walls, life was in full swing. Something was happening, a new president was elected and new technical innovations were released. New films and books were released, people went to the theater and restaurants. And for him, life stood still within four walls, limited by the schedule, squeezed into the framework of the internal routine. The architect kept his word - there was a special attitude towards his soldiers in prison. They were respected and feared, but there was another side - there were no friends either. Except for Tony, who, like a fish-sticking, insolently rubbed into trust, not paying attention to objections. They soon became friends, if anything like that was possible in prison. Chris talked about his past life, and Tony remembered with a laugh,

  — You look like a melon, ”Chris said, staring at Denise’s rounded belly. She smiled softly and stroked him, looked guiltily:

  — They say there will be twins. I won't be able to come for a while, give birth soon.

  — I have no idea how my husband lets you go so far, ”Chris grumbled, trying not to pay attention to the pulling pain in his heart - after all, Denise was the only thread connecting with the outside world.

  — Do you think I'm asking him? She snorted. - He would try not to let me in to you! Three years left, Chris. You've already served more than half. And you know, Mark is waiting for you no less than me.

  — Yah?! - Chris really amused. - Are you saying that your husband is waiting for a close friend of his wife, who is also a murderer, to return from prison?

  — He is waiting for you, because he knows how dear you are to me, ”Denise answered sternly. “And because he knows I won't sleep well until you get out.

  Chris coughed, trying to hide his embarrassment. It did not fit in his head that she could fight so selflessly for him, so support him. So much to do for him.

  — Thank you, ”he finally said, hiding his eyes.

  — Why else do we need friends?

  Tony was released three months earlier, leaving, he said a long and noisy goodbye, alternately hugging each and every one, and then took Chris aside and spoke incoherently:

  — Look, don't get lost when you go out. Here is my phone, if you need anything - call me.

  — I hope I don’t need your services, ”Chris smiled, remembering that Tony had decided to try himself in the difficult field of counterfeiting.

  — I'm not talking about that! - waved him off. - I have a lot of acquaintances in the wild, and believe me, I know how difficult it is to get a job for a former prisoner. So, don't be shy, call if you need to. And if not, call too. We'll have a beer on the porch in the evening.

  The faster the end of the term approached, the more fear gripped Chris. He didn't know what to do there. Where to go, how to live. The world he left seven years ago has changed beyond recognition. There was no longer a cozy parental home, just as there were no parents themselves. There was no privileged position in society, and hardly a single familiar door could now open before him. The watch, which was given away along with the rest of the things, seemed like an alien element of a life that will never happen again. Chris gently stroked the glass, looked at the electronic scoreboard above the doors, brought up the arrows. He straightened his shoulders and went out; the doors behind him banged ominously and closed for the last time.

  Denise stood by the car and waved her hand excitedly. Taking a deep breath, Chris went to her, trying to breathe less often, drinking freedom in small sips, enjoying every second. Denise hung on him, sobbing happily, and he embraced him awkwardly, feeling pain in his eyes.

  — Okay, let's get out of here, - Denise said in a trembling voice, stepping back.

  — Where are you taking me? Chris asked hoarsely as he got into the car.

  — Home, of course, where else! She started the engine. “You’ll stay with us for a while, and next week we’ll start looking for a house.

  — Where is my home? One?

  — Well, that means apartments, ”Denise shrugged calmly, picking up speed. She was in no hurry with questions, allowing her to enjoy the road, breathe in spring through the wide open window, look at the sky, along which white lambs were floating. We drove into Seattle when the sun had set and the neon signs flashed brightly. The streets were still crowded, the city lived its own life, not stopping for a minute. Denise deftly maneuvered in the stream, now and then drawing Chris's attention to the new house, then to the store that changed the sign, chirped incessantly, realizing, probably, how awkward he was now, wildly returning to his usual life.

  Denise drove into the driveway in front of the house, cursed and braked sharply. She got out, grabbed a tricycle and rolled it to the side.

  — I'll crush him someday! And I will be to blame! She grumbled as she drove the car to the garage. - Come out, come.

  The small house, two stories high, was painted with pale blue paint. There was a soft light in the windows, and pots of geraniums stood on the windowsills.

  — You have a good house, '' Chris said slowly, feeling his breath stop and something bitter rushing out, scratching his ribs from the inside.

  — I would like more, - smiled Denise. - Well, let's go, why did you get up?

  Inside, the house really turned out to be small, certainly smaller than Chris himself once had. And in the parents' house, the hall was larger than all Denise's dwelling. But here it was cozy, home-like, and even toys scattered on the floor gave a special charm. Voices were heard, and two children ran out to meet them: a boy and a girl - twins. A tall, fair-haired man followed, wiping his hands with a towel. He approached, kissed his wife and looked at Chris warily, holding out his hand:

  — Mark.

  — Christopher. - Chris firmly shook the outstretched hand, followed Mark with a glance.

  — Sorry, he's usually more welcoming, ”Denise said shyly.

  — In his place, I, too, would not be happy if a former prisoner appeared on the threshold of my house.

  — He will get used to it. Denise shrugged. “Besides, he himself suggested that you stay with us. Okay, let's go and show you your den.

  The den turned out to be a basement with a sofa, TV and a narrow cabinet. A matte door led into a shower room. On the couch lay a stack of clean bedding and pajamas.

  — I hope you got it right with the size. ”Denise nodded at her and gave Chris a critical look. - True, you were heard in the shoulders and back, but you will definitely fit into your pants.

  — I don't know what I would do without you, ”Chris said with feeling. - Will it ever be possible to repay you for everything?

  — Never go back to jail again, ”she smiled. And she adde
d: - I'm serious. Otherwise I will kill you myself.

  Chris washed himself quickly - exactly three and a half minutes. The soap unusually filled the cramped booth with a bright lemon scent, but still after the shower there was a feeling of a persistent prison smell, as if it had eaten under the skin and absorbed into the blood. Turning around fluffy towel is he past barefoot kicking before sofa, looking atprepared clothes. Nearby were a pack of disposable razors and deodorant, which Chris picked up with mixed feelings. Inside, something rose rapidly, filling his mouth with bitterness, causing a sharp pain in his eyes.

  — I completely forgot about shoes! - came Denise's voice, and in a second she herself appeared on the stairs, waving her sneakers. And she stopped before reaching the end. It seems that she only now realized how much the old friend of her youth has changed. Chris hadn't complained about his figure before, but now he seemed like the embodiment of danger. Not. There were no lumpy muscles or bulging veins, but his body was not even lean. But even this was not what struck Denise, who had seen him naked enough in his time - he never had tattoos. She more than once jokingly suggested various options, but Chris was adamant: he was not allowed to acquire drawings because of his service. Or beat a tattoo where no one will see it, even on the beach. Now his shoulders were decorated with patterns, passing to the collarbones and hiding behind the shoulder blades.

  — You took care of everything. ”Chris smiled awkwardly, weighing the machine and deodorant in his hand. Denise died, shook her head and quickly walked over, holding out her sneakers.

  — Someday I'll go over all the pictures, ”she stared expressively at the tattoo,“ but for now, get dressed and get up, we'll have dinner soon.

  — Are you sure I won't interfere?

  — Another such question, and I will be offended! Denise threatened.

  The table was surprisingly comfortable. Mark gradually thawed, trying to involve Chris in the conversation, Denise now and then recalled something from their past, mostly from childhood, the children tried hard to behave like adults, smearing mashed potatoes on the face, table and hands.

  — Down there, - Mark bent to Chris, while Denise went upstairs to put the children, and they sat on the veranda in front of the courtyard, - you will find a mini-bar. So, its contents are for you.

  — Is it too generous? Chris grinned.

  — I thought it might not hurt you. Mark shrugged.

  — Thank. - Chris sighed, looked out the window - darkness, and no strokes of spotlights sliding along the ground. “I still can't believe that I'm free,” he added quietly, more to himself than to Mark. But he heard, nodded.

  — I will not say that I was delighted when I found out about you. - Mark got up, went to the refrigerator and took out two beers, holding one of the bottles to Chris. “But you were before me. Damn, dude, you've always been! It seemed to me that you were always with us, and you know, it was really annoying at first.

  — Sorry. - Chris snorted, looked sideways at the deliberately indignant Mark. His bright blue eyes shone with joy, infecting everything around him with light. There was simply no way not to smile back.

  — I'm used to it, ”Mark waved. - And I'm glad that Denise has a person whom she can call a true friend.

  — I'm very happy about that, too, ”Chris said with feeling and took a sip to hide his embarrassment. They were silent for a while, listening to the silence and muffled clatter of crickets. Anxiety ripened inside, itching between the shoulder blades - Chris squinted behind his back, trying to make out the clock, but from here you could only see the edge of the table.

  — Lost something? - asked Mark.

  — What time is it now? - It's too early. No ten.

  — You have to get used to the fact that you can go to bed at any time, ”Chris drawled, forcing himself to lean back in his chair and stretch his legs. He returned to normal life. Even though he himself is no longer as normal as before, he will adapt. He always adjusted.

  They fell silent again, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally Mark got up, slapped Chris on the shoulder, and said in a deliberately casual manner: “Okay, I’m taking the kids to kindergarten in the morning. Otherwise I would have kept company with such a witty guy like you.

  — Sorry. Chris rubbed his eyes. - Before, I was not such a bore.

  — Okay, let's write it off for adaptation, ”Mark chuckled. - But you sit if you want.

  Beer in the refrigerator.

  — I think I'll go too. You know: the regime and all that ...

  I did not want to sleep, although I was seized by a wild fatigue, as if all the bones had been taken out of my body. Chris found a mini-bar with his eyes, took out a beer and collapsed on the sofa, arms spread over the back. He glanced at the TV, then made out the center and the pile of disks piled up in a heap. Rising bouncyly, he walked over and began to shift them, examining, every now and then applying to the bottle. He was hardly surprised to find his favorite Ray Charles concert. And when the muffled sounds of the saxophone floated through the basement, Chris finally allowed himself to finally believe - it's over. He's free.

  He woke up out of habit - at five, and for a long time could not understand where he was and why the doors had not yet clanked automatically opening. Then he turned on his side, hugging the pillow, and thought it would be nice to draw up a plan of action for the near future. There was no sleep, but I did not want to make noise, wandering around the house and waking the others. Chris quickly washed up and quietly climbed into the kitchen, remembering that Denise had made him promise that he would use the refrigerator whenever he liked. After making himself a couple of sandwiches with ham, cheese, pickled cucumbers, olives, tomatoes, Chris thought about it, added a couple more chicken wings and took out a bag of orange juice. I wonder if Denise remembers that orange juice is his favorite, or does he buy it all the time?

  Downstairs, snuggled up on the couch and cross-legged in Turkish style, Chris turned on the TV, mindlessly flipping channels and changing from one pointless morning show to another. Denise said something about finding a place to live. It is, of course, convenient here, but I don’t want to hinder. And your own space, even if small, is necessary. Without thinking that someone might come in. It is necessary to clarify how much money is in the account and think about where you can get a job.

  There was a problem with that. Chris had no idea what to do. In prison, he mastered plumbing, for two years he worked in a smithy, making blanks, which then went to private workshops. It was a stable income that allowed for a small amount of accumulation in seven years, which can be added to what Denise had saved. And first try to meet with my father's friends. No, Chris was not an idealist and understood perfectly well that the way up, into a past life, was forever closed. But maybe they will have something for the former captain of the Armed Forces? Maybe they can close their eyes for a period, even if they don't take on a respectable position.

  Chris sighed, took a bite of his sandwich, staring at the news picture. There is no point in going to my father's friends. If they did not help him at one time, then they certainly will not help his son. We need to ask Denise for a laptop and look through the vacancies of an assistant locksmith or a blacksmith, suddenly something is found. Because it seems that he is no longer good for anything.

  The house gradually revived, filled with stomping, conversations and muffled laughter. Denise dropped in at eight and was surprised to find Chris browsing through an album of photographs. The couch was neatly made, and an empty glass and plate were on the table.

  — How long have you been up? - asked Denise in surprise, falling on the sofa next to her. - However, it doesn't matter. How did you sleep?

  — Almost at home. Chris smiled warmly.

  — Wait! - She jumped up and ran to one of the cabinets, opening the door and taking out the first box that came across. - Here are your things. Not all, of course, but I tried to take as much as possible.

  She She opened the box and pulled out a black shirt, tossed it to Chr
is.

  — Here's something, but the shirt was definitely not necessary to take, you will not fit into them!

  — Did you take my things? - his throat was dry, Chris looked at her in disbelief.

  — Well, of course! Denise shrugged, as if it were a matter of course. - And also - records, photographs, I even managed to grab a couple of paintings, but to take them out

  had to at night. And yet, - my eyes lit up with slyness, - I have prepared you some gift! You certainly didn't expect him. I am now!

  Waving her chestnut tail, she quickly jumped out of the basement, banging her feet on the stairs. Chris looked in shock at the closet in which the boxes were visible, and a sharp pain grew in his chest, pressing on his heart, making it impossible to breathe. He opened his mouth wide, filling his lungs with scraps of air, and closed his eyes tightly. Meanwhile, fussy footsteps rattled upstairs again, and Chris rubbed his eyes and greeted her with a serene expression.

  — I hope you won't scold me, ”Denise muttered shyly as she sat down on the sofa again. “But that's not all I have kept. Reach out your hand.

  In the open palm lay the keys on the painfully familiar keyring. Chris slowly took them and suddenly, unable to contain himself, sharply leaned forward, holding Denise to him.