Exchange
The action takes place in Moscow. The mother of the main character, thirty-seven-year-old engineer Viktor Dmitriev, Ksenia Fedorovna, is seriously ill, she has cancer, but she herself believes that she has a peptic ulcer. After the operation she is sent home. The outcome is clear, but she alone believes that things are getting better. Immediately after her discharge from the hospital, Dmitriev’s wife Lena, a translator from English, decides to urgently move in with her mother-in-law so as not to lose a good room on Profsoyuznaya Street. An exchange is needed, she even has one option in mind.
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There was a time when Dmitriev’s mother really wanted to live with him and her granddaughter Natasha, but since then their relationship with Lena became very tense and this was out of the question. Now Lena herself tells her husband about the need for an exchange. Dmitriev is indignant - at such a moment he offers this to his mother, who can guess what’s going on. Nevertheless, he gradually gives in to his wife: after all, she is concerned about the family, about the future of her daughter Natasha. In addition, after thinking, Dmitriev begins to calm himself: maybe with his mother’s illness not everything is so irrevocable, which means that the fact that they will move in together will only be good for her, for her well-being - after all, her dream will come true. So Lena, Dmitriev concludes, is wise as a woman, and in vain he immediately attacked her.
Now he is also aimed at exchange, although he claims that he personally does not need anything. While in service, due to his mother’s illness, he refuses to go on a business trip. He needs money, since he spent a lot on the doctor, Dmitriev is racking his brains about who to borrow from. But it seems that the day is turning out well for him: his employee Tanya, his former mistress, offers money with her characteristic sensitivity. Several years ago they were close, as a result Tanya’s marriage broke up, she was left alone with her son and continues to love Dmitriev, although she understands that this love is hopeless. In turn, Dmitriev thinks that Tanya would be a better wife for him than Lena. Tanya, at his request, brings Dmitriev together with a colleague who has experience in exchange matters, who does not say anything specific, but gives the broker’s phone number. After work, Dmitriev and Tanya take a taxi and go to her house to get money. Tanya is happy to have the opportunity to be alone with Dmitriev, to help him in some way. Dmitriev is sincerely sorry for her, maybe he would have stayed with her longer, but he needs to hurry to his mother’s dacha in Pavlinovo.
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Dmitriev has warm childhood memories associated with this dacha, owned by the Red Partisan cooperative. The house was built by his father, a railway engineer, who all his life dreamed of leaving this job to start writing humorous stories. He was not a bad man, he was not lucky and died early. Dmitriev remembers him fragmentarily. He remembers better his grandfather, a lawyer, an old revolutionary, who returned to Moscow after a long absence (apparently after the camps) and lived for some time in a dacha until he was given a room. He understood nothing of modern life. I also looked with curiosity at the Lukyanovs, the parents of Dmitriev’s wife, who were also visiting Pavlinov in the summer. Once on a walk, my grandfather, referring specifically to the Lukyanovs, said that there is no need to despise anyone. These words, clearly addressed to Dmitriev’s mother, who often showed intolerance, and to himself, were well remembered by his grandson.
The Lukyanovs differed from the Dmitrievs in their adaptability to life, their ability to deftly arrange any business, be it renovating a dacha or enrolling their granddaughter in an elite English school. They are from the breed of “who know how to live.” What seemed insurmountable to the Dmitrievs, was solved quickly and simply by the Lukyanovs, using only the paths they knew. This was an enviable quality, but such practicality caused the Dmitrievs, especially his mother Ksenia Fedorovna, who was accustomed to selflessly helping others, a woman with strong moral principles, and his sister Laura, to smile arrogantly. For them, the Lukyanovs are philistines who care only about their personal well-being and are devoid of high interests. In their family, the word “loukyanitsya” even appeared. They are characterized by a kind of mental flaw, which manifests itself in tactlessness towards others. So, for example, Lena moved the portrait of Dmitriev’s father from the middle room to the hallway - only because she needed a nail for the wall clock. Or she took all the best cups of Laura and Ksenia Fedorovna.
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Dmitriev loves Lena and always defended her from the attacks of her sister and mother, but he also fought with her because of them. He knows well the strength of Lena, “who bit into her desires like a bulldog. Such a pretty bulldog woman with a short straw-colored haircut and always a pleasantly tanned, slightly dark face. She didn’t let go until her desires—right in her teeth—turned into flesh.” At one time she pushed Dmitriev to defend his dissertation, but he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t, he refused, and Lena eventually left him alone.
Dmitriev feels that his relatives are condemning him, that they consider him to be “stupid”, and therefore cut off. This became especially noticeable after the story with relative and former comrade Lyovka Bubrick. Bubrik returned to Moscow from Bashkiria, where he had been assigned after college, and remained unemployed for a long time. He had his eye on a place at the Institute of Oil and Gas Equipment and really wanted to get a job there. At the request of Lena, who felt sorry for Lyovka and his wife, her father Ivan Vasilyevich took care of this matter. However, instead of Bubrick, Dmitriev ended up in this place, because it was better than his previous work. Everything was done again under the wise leadership of Lena, but, of course, with the consent of Dmitriev himself. There was a scandal. However, Lena, defending her husband from his principled and highly moral relatives, took all the blame upon herself.
The conversation about the exchange that Dmitriev, who arrived at the dacha, begins with his sister Laura, causes amazement and sharp rejection in her, despite all the reasonable arguments of Dmitriev. Laura is sure that her mother cannot be happy with Lena, even if she tries very hard at first. They are too different people. Ksenia Fedorovna felt unwell just before her son’s arrival, then she gets better, and Dmitriev, without delay, begins the decisive conversation. Yes, says the mother, she used to want to live with him, but now she doesn’t. The exchange took place a long time ago, she says, referring to Dmitriev’s moral capitulation.
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While spending the night at the dacha, Dmitriev sees his old watercolor drawing on the wall. Once upon a time he was fond of painting and never parted with an album. But, having failed the exam, out of grief he rushed to another, the first institute he came across. After graduation, he did not look for romance like others, did not go anywhere, and stayed in Moscow. Then Lena and her daughter were already there, and the wife said: where can he get away from them? He is late. His train has left.
In the morning, Dmitriev leaves, leaving Laura money. Two days later, my mother calls and says that she agrees to move in together. When the exchange is finally settled, Ksenia Fedorovna feels even better. However, the disease soon worsens again. After the death of his mother, Dmitriev experiences a hypertensive crisis. He immediately gave up, turned gray and aged. And Dmitriev’s dacha in Pavlinov was later demolished, like the others, and the Burevestnik stadium and a hotel for athletes were built there.
Yuri Trifonov - Exchange
Trial version. 3 pages out of 14 available
Trifonov Yuri
Exchange
Yuri Trifonov
Exchange
In July, Dmitriev's mother Ksenia Fedorovna became seriously ill, and she was taken to Botkinskaya, where she lay for twelve days with suspicion of the worst. In September they had an operation, the worst was confirmed, but Ksenia Fedorovna, who believed that she had a peptic ulcer, felt an improvement, soon began to walk, and in October she was sent home, plumper and firmly convinced that things were getting better. It was precisely when Ksenia Fedorovna returned from the hospital that Dmitriev’s wife started an exchange: she decided to urgently move in with her mother-in-law, who lived alone in a nice, twenty-meter room on Profsoyuznaya Street.
Dmitriev himself started talking about connecting with his mother, and did this more than once. But that was a long time ago, at a time when Lena’s relationship with Ksenia Fedorovna had not yet developed into the forms of such ossified and lasting enmity as has happened now, after fourteen years of Dmitriev’s married life. He always encountered firm resistance from Lena, and over the years the idea began to appear less and less often. And then only in moments of irritation. It has turned into a portable and convenient weapon, always with you, for small family skirmishes. When Dmitriev wanted to prick Lena for something, accuse her of selfishness or callousness, he said: “That’s why you don’t want to live with my mother.” When the need to be sarcastic or to put pressure on the patient arose in Lena, she said: “That’s why I can’t live with your mother and never will, because you are the spitting image of her, and you alone are enough for me.”
Once upon a time, all this tugged and tormented Dmitriev. Because of his mother, he had fierce quarrels with his wife, he reached the point of wild anger because of some malicious word said by Lena; Because of his wife, he embarked on a painful “showdown” with his mother, after which his mother did not speak to him for several days. He stubbornly tried to bring them together, to reconcile, put them together at the dacha, once bought both trips to the Riga seaside, but nothing good came of all this. Some kind of barrier stood between the two women, and they could not overcome it. He didn’t understand why this was so, although he had often wondered about it before. Why are two intelligent, respected women - Ksenia Fedorovna worked as a senior bibliographer of one large academic library, and Lena was engaged in translations of English technical texts and, as they said, was an excellent translator, even participated in the compilation of some special textbook on translation - why are two good women who passionately loved Dmitriev, also a good man, and his daughter Natasha, stubbornly cherished the mutual hostility that had hardened over the years?
I was tormented, amazed, racked my brains, but then I got used to it. I got used to it because I saw that everyone had the same thing, and everyone got used to it. And he calmed down on the truth that there is nothing more wise and valuable in life than peace, and it must be protected with all our might. Therefore, when Lena suddenly started talking about the exchange with the Markushevichs - late in the evening, they had had dinner long ago, Natasha was sleeping - Dmitriev was scared. Who are the Markushevichs? Where did she get them from? Two-room apartment on Malaya Gruzinskaya. He understood Lena’s secret and simple thought, from this understanding fear penetrated his heart, and he turned pale, wilted, and could not raise his eyes to Lena.
Since he was silent, Lena continued: they will probably like their mother’s room on Profsoyuznaya, it will suit them geographically, because Markushevich’s wife works somewhere near the Kaluga outpost, but their own room will probably require an additional payment. Otherwise you won't be interested. You can, of course, try to exchange their room for something more worthwhile, there will be a triple exchange, it’s not scary. We must act energetically. Do something every day. It's best to find a broker. Lucy has a broker friend, an old man, very nice. True, he doesn’t give his address or phone number to anyone, but appears out of the blue, such a conspirator, but Lucy should have him soon: she owes him. This is the law: you can never give them money in advance... While talking, Lena made the bed. He couldn’t look into her eyes, now he wanted to, but Lena stood either sideways or with her back to him, and when she turned and he looked straight into her eyes, myopic, with pupils dilated from evening reading, he saw determination. She had probably been preparing for the conversation for a long time, maybe from the first day she learned about her mother’s illness. That's when it dawned on her. And while he, overwhelmed by horror, rushed to doctors, called hospitals, made arrangements, was tormented, she thought about it, thought about it. And then I found some Markushevichs. Strangely, he felt neither anger nor pain now. It only flashed about the mercilessness of life. Lena had nothing to do with it, she was part of this life, part of the mercilessness. Besides, is it possible to be angry with a person who, for example, lacks an ear for music? Lena was always distinguished by a certain spiritual - no, not deafness, too much - a certain spiritual imprecision, and this property became even more acute when Lena’s other, strongest quality came into play: the ability to achieve her own.
He was hooked on what was nearby: why do you need a broker if an apartment on Malaya Gruzinskaya has already been found? A broker is needed if they have to change their room. And in general to speed up the whole process. She won't pay him a penny until she gets the warrant in hand. It doesn’t cost that much, a hundred rubles, a hundred and fifty at most. This is true! She assessed his gloominess in her own way. What a subtle soul, what a psychologist. He said that it would be better if she waited until he started this conversation himself, and if he didn’t start, it means it’s not necessary, it’s impossible, it’s not something she needs to think about now.
- Vitya, I understand. Forgive me,” Lena said with an effort. “But... (He saw that it was very difficult for her, and yet she would finish to the end.) First of all, you’ve already started this conversation, haven’t you?” Started many times. And secondly, we all need this, and first of all your mother. Vitka, my dear, I understand and feel sorry for you like no one else, and I say: this is necessary! Believe me...
She hugged him. Her hands squeezed him more and more. He knew: this sudden love was genuine. But he felt irritated and pushed Lena away with his elbow.
“You shouldn’t have started now!” - he repeated gloomily.
- Well, okay, well, excuse me. But I don’t care about myself, really... - Shut up! - he almost shouted in a whisper.
Lena went to the ottoman and continued to lay out the bed in silence. She took out a thick checkered tablecloth from the box that stood at the head of the ottoman, which usually served as a lining under the sheet, but was sometimes used for its intended purpose for the dining table. forward her hands to reach the far edge of the ottoman - her face instantly filled with color, and her stomach sagged low and seemed very large to Dmitriev - and straightened out the curled up corners (when Dmitriev laid the bed, he never straightened out the corners), then threw it on the sheet, to the drawer, two pillows, one of which had a less recent pillowcase, this pillow belonged to Dmitriev. Pulling out two wadded blankets from the drawer and placing them on the ottoman, Lena said in a trembling voice:
- You seem to accuse me of tactlessness, but, honestly, Vitya, I really thought about all of us... About Natasha’s future... - How can you! - What?
- How can you even talk about this now? How does your tongue turn? That’s what amazes me.” He felt that irritation was growing and was breaking free. “By God, there is some kind of mental defect in you.” Some kind of underdevelopment of feelings. Something, forgive me, subhuman. How is it possible? The point is that it’s my mother who’s sick, not yours, right? And if I were you... - Speak more quietly.
- If I were you, I would never be the first... - Quiet! - She waved her hand.
Both listened. No, everything was quiet. My daughter was sleeping behind a screen in the corner. There, behind the screen, stood her desk, at which she prepared her homework in the evenings. Dmitriev made and hung a shelf for books above the table, installed electricity for a table lamp there, and created a special room behind a screen, a “single room,” as the family called it. Dmitriev and Lena slept on a wide ottoman made in Czechoslovakia, successfully purchased three years ago and the envy of their friends. The ottoman stood by the window, separated from the “single” by an oak sideboard with carved decorations, which Lena inherited from her grandmother - an absurd thing that Dmitriev offered to sell many times; Lena also did not mind, but her mother-in-law objected. Vera Lazarevna lived nearby, two houses away, and came to Lena almost every day under the pretext of “helping Natasha” and “making it easier for Lenusya,” but in fact with the sole purpose of shamelessly interfering in someone else’s life.
In the evenings, lying down on their Czech bed - which turned out to be not very strong, it soon became loose and creaked with every movement - Dmitriev and Lena always listened for a long time to the sounds coming from the “solitary room”, trying to understand whether their daughter had fallen asleep or not, Dmitriev called , checking, in a low voice: “Natasha! And Natasha! Lena approached on tiptoe and looked through the crack in the screen. About six years ago they hired a nanny, she slept on a folding bed right here in the room. The Fandeevs, neighbors, objected to being in the corridor. The old woman suffered from insomnia and had extremely acute hearing; all night long she muttered something, groaned and listened: either a mouse was scratching, or a cockroach was running, or they forgot to turn on the faucet in the kitchen. When the old woman left, the Dmitrievs began something like a honeymoon.
Trial version. 3 pages out of 14 available
