Quarantine. A book of stories and poems. Райса Каримбаева
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over a cup of tea. Later, both go out for daily, two-hour walks.
Mom does not particularly approve of this political news, concerts are better. Once again, at a thousandth, listen to your favorite singer or singer, scroll through the video, which is already boring to many, but very much loved by her. The fight for the TV in the house was long ago decided in favor of my mother, and when her favorite series about the unfortunate Simar and her sister Raleigh begins, my father’s series about the “Brigade” and about cops immediately turns off. Dad silently takes a hundred square meters and, going deep into the next room, in silence, calmly inspects his beloved “Brigade”.
This winter in Chu, however, like all our winters, is warm. The whole year can be easily divided like this: spring, summer, autumn and… spring again. Little snow falls, the sun is generous at any time of the year.
While my mother was getting ready, I was waiting for her on the street. It’s good with us! The snow is melting, the air is clean and fresh, there is no dust or stifling summer heat. If you look closely, you can see swollen buds on the branches. Near one private house on Lenin Street, a tall, branched tree with huge red-crimson buds flaunts with might and main. Each is the size of a fist. There are no dried, yellowish-brown leaves that did not have time to fly off in the fall, as on other trees. An unusual, pale yellow tree stands out strongly against the background of black, crooked elms, of which there is a whole darkness! Elm grows well on clayey sandy floor. Thin birches and poplars are very rare. Cherries and peaches compete with elm. Soon everything will bloom and our city will drown in the delicate scent of blossoming, fragrant flowers. Beauty!
The road to the hairdresser took only half an hour. There were no people in the beauty salon itself. Nearly. A couple of girls were sitting in a manicure and a fat lady with small legs. She had a very small shoe size for her height that caught my attention. This is rare. It’s time to put them in the Red Book as a rare specimen. Seeing her tiny legs, you involuntarily look at your “skis”. Well, yes.. You don’t need skis here, you can safely fly from the mountain without special equipment. With my height one hundred and sixty with a penny, I wear all the forties with a hook! Fashionable, pointed shoes were out of the question. What are there, spiky, there is nowhere to hide theirs. And here is beauty! Miniature, like Japanese women! Remember their kimono suit and their shoes? Here, this is the same! While I was admiring her legs, my mother went into the hairdresser’s and, having learned that the master was busy, went out and sat down next to the red sofa. All the furniture in the hall was red: two sofas, two broken red armchairs, a broken chair, also red, red in crimson, small flowered blinds on the windows, a red coffee table, polished under glass in the corner, and… black out of place, an idle TV and green butterflies to it. On the ceiling, around a red chandelier, hung tattered and re-tied colored rains left over from the New Year. Opposite me hung a huge mirror, all over the wall. A curious face with huge blue “lanterns” under each eye looked out from there. These “lights” cannot be hidden or smeared under any paint. Tired of annoying questions about my health, I just don’t pay attention to them, pretending to be deaf and dumb. It is surprising that neither mom, nor dad, and even grandparents and great-grandfather had these “lanterns” and do not! Just me! Probably, it was Allah who painted me, so that I would not paint, so I would not waste time and money. Cosmetics are expensive! And here you don’t need to paint, it makes no sense, anyway, they shine through the multi-layered tone of powder and cream and are visible even at a great distance. I saw the same “lanterns” at my neighbor’s. Maybe she and I were sisters in a past life? Her husband is calm, he did not dismiss his fists, it was just that she was born. Looking up from the mirror, I noticed an awkward, dark-skinned to black, thin, bony guy. He spun around the “Japanese woman” and told her something with interest, gesturing with his hands. She was reluctant to answer him, all the time looking at the study, where everyone is given thick, solid, black, Uzbek eyebrows over the entire forehead. This fashion is in Chu for the second year and all and sundry go to make thick eyebrows. They say that if you have money, you can go to Taraz itself, make the eyebrows of “Brezhnev”, so shaggy, thick, solid, with hanging light hairs, lighter than the eyebrows. Mom also wants to make herself such, she says that she is tired of painting, and you can’t stock up on black pencils (eyebrows). I propose to her to do it immediately at Brezhnev’s. With her stern look, which is about to kill anyone right on the spot, they are just the way. For her tongue, she immediately received this stern, killing look and turned away. Mom was waiting, or rather, we were waiting together for the second hour. Finally, this aunt, who was sitting in the hairdresser’s chair, came out with wet beet-dyed hair and an old shawl covered with paint smeared over her shoulders, but she immediately came back. I only managed to notice that her hair is rather thick compared to my thin one. They say that girls have thick hair, they must be cut on the bald head. But this trick didn’t work with mine.
No matter how many of them you cut, the hair, as it was thin, remained. I remember the bewildered, unhappy face of the master, who was trying to build at least something on my head. Poor master! She fought for half an hour, but she could not build anything except a pot called “square”. So I walked all my life, on any day, even a significant one, with this pot on my head. I understand, “square” – a beautiful haircut, but on my head and with my hairs, for some reason it reminds me of a pot! Yes, that one for children! True, now I hide it under a scarf, letting the ends of a long scarf fall onto my back, presenting luxurious braids like in a movie.
…That lady went out and came in again, and my mother and I remained sitting and waiting, curiously examining the other visitors. Our attention was attracted by a very beautiful girl with thin eyebrows. Not eyebrows – lovely sight.! Neat, thin, black, real!!! She flew past like a bird here and there. Now in the manicure room, where she painted her claws in a red, bloody, saturated color, to match the color of her lipstick, then in the hairdresser’s, “ask something”, then she again sat down next to me, on the next chair.
I understand that she is going to the wedding. Otherwise, why paint the long claws red? In Chu, on the occasion of toys, it is imperative to paint the claws in a red, saturated color and make Uzbek, solid, preferably shaggy like Brezhnev’s, eyebrows, one thick line, over the entire forehead! To be seen! True, take off to go to the bathhouse and you can’t bathe. I do not know why…
…The black guy kept sticking to the “Japanese woman”. Finally, unable to withstand the pressure of her boyfriend, she jumped up and disappeared into the office, where they make the same Uzbek eyebrows for everyone.
Left alone, he completely relaxed, lay down on the sofa, occupying it all and fell asleep, just not snoring. Here came two more young prettier slender women who mowed like actresses from Korean TV series: long, black loose, straight, slicked hair and a short, slightly covering underwear, a skirt in a large gray cage, plus white knee-highs at any time of the year, be it winter or summer. One of the girls had a backpack on her back, which made me understand that she went to school, in high school, and the other, apparently, had graduated from her long ago, but she could not leave her favorite school skirt in a gray, large cage to the mercy of fate. And he walks in it to this day.
In addition to the famous, shaggy, Brezhnev and Uzbek eyebrows, thick, solid, in one line across the entire forehead, in our town, thin, tight-fitting trousers of different colors of the rainbow are in great demand. They are worn by everyone, regardless of the size of the fifth point and age. On the little ones, these trousers, which look more like tights, look nothing at all, but on an adult lady, the owner of magnificent forms… One such beauty flew into the salon today. She had a beautiful high chest, a thin, narrow waist, and from below… these leggings are black on a curvy heel with curves. short legs. There was a feeling that she was in a great hurry, being late somewhere, and simply forgot to put on a skirt, and went out into the street in her underwear. I wanted to get up and tell her that she had forgotten something, but my mother’s stern look just riveted me to the place, making it clear without words that I wouldn’t even think about it. Pants-pantyhose for another half hour were spinning for some reason in front of me, sparkling with their fifth point now and then. The swarthy guy did not give a damn