The invitation is not for me/Приглашение не для меня. Лидия Антонова
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to run into me today
“You?!” I sobbed and got up, only to fall back down again. A sharp pain shot through my leg.
“Shit!" he said and looked around. He bent down and picked me up in his arms.
"I guess I don't have to ask if you can walk.”
“Let go of me!" I demanded.
"I'd leave you here, but there are cameras," he said.
I was so stunned by his confession that I let him put me in the passenger seat. When he got behind the wheel, he started so quickly that I almost hit the dashboard.
“Did you decide to finish me off?” I asked.
“I decided to take you to the doctor. He's a friend of mine and will examine you. Appreciate my kindness.”
“Kindness?! You ruined my life!”
“Me?! I opened your eyes. You wanted to waste another six months on that man?”
“Why six months?” I was confused.
Usually they talk about a few years, but here is the exact timeframe!
"Alex" and Diana were getting married in six months. I don't think he would have left the apartment before then. You'd have ironed his wedding suit, too!” He laughed.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. He was right: he probably would be!
“No!" I muttered.
"Don't worry, there won't be a wedding now. Diana wouldn't survive a public scandal. When I left, she was already running toward the exit. She'll probably go back to London and continue her studies.”
He was so pleased with himself that he glowed like a light bulb. He's ruined my life and he's happy!
"You… " You…
I couldn't get anything else out of myself. Instead of words, I took action and hit him several times. The car swerved, the driver swore, and managed to straighten himself out.
“Do you want us to crash?” he asked angrily.
“Let me out!” I demanded, trying to fumble for the handle. Tears filled my eyes, and I couldn't see anything.
“I won't! You'll jump out into the road and get hit, and I'll be a murderer, albeit indirectly. I'm saving my karma.”
“What?!” I'm so shocked by his revelation. Even my tears dried.
"We're here," he said.
"Where to?" I didn't understand.
We stopped in an underground parking lot, and I didn't know which building it belonged to. Somehow I missed this moment!
When he got out of the car, he opened the door and helped me out. I immediately pushed his hand away and stood up on both feet, yelped, and almost fell. He grabbed me in time and threw me onto his shoulder.
“Let me go!” I demanded.
“I won't!” he retorted.
I tried to break free, kicking my legs and pounding him on the back with my fists. I was ignored in the most insolent and gesturing way.
“Take off your shoes!” He said, throwing me down on the couch.
He had a couch in the hallway! And the room itself wasn't much smaller than my bedroom! "A" went into the room and, talking to someone, came back out. With the words "hurry up," addressed to the person on the phone, he handed me a half-filled glass.
“Hera will be here now; true, he is a plastic surgeon, but I'm sure he'll be able to fix your leg. You drink, it's whiskey. Go on, chug it! It's good for calming the nerves.”
I basically agreed, I read that it helps, but I haven't tried it myself. I exhaled and drank all the contents, as advised, in one gulp. The whiskey collapsed into my stomach, and a warm wave traveled through my body. I felt dizzy. He kept saying something, but I couldn't make sense of it, as if I was in a cotton cocoon. I heard everything, but for some reason I couldn't react.
“Andrew, where are you injured?” came from the entrance.
"So that's his name," I thought distantly.
“Yes, here, sitting. Eyes in a bunch. Hey!”
He waved his hand in front of my nose. Somehow I didn't care. Another man appeared in front of me, and he looked into my eyes, looked at my hands, and turned to Andrew:
"What did you do to her?"
He held up a whiskey glass. The doctor rolled his eyes and sighed.
"You better be careful. I don't want alcohol intoxication, with her chicken weight. I don't recognize you, first you hit a girl with your car, and then poison her.”
I agreed with him, but I couldn't answer. An attempted nod resulted in me falling on my side.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!" exclaimed the doctor, catching me. "Let's take her to the room."
Andrew unbuttoned my coat and, while his friend held me, took it off. Then he threw off my boots and picked me up in his arms and carried me somewhere. I couldn't fight his self-rule; all my strength was thrown into keeping awake.
I was consciously aware that my injured leg was being felt.
“Here needed bandages and ointment, and also take off stockings. I'll get what you need.”
The offer of one of the men to take something off made me come to my senses a little. I tried to crawl away from him, but it didn't work: his hand slowly crept upward, tugging at the hem. I gathered my will into a fist and pushed him away.
" That's what we're reacting to! " Andrew snorted. " I've never been able to take off stockings…
When I woke up, for the first time I couldn't figure out what had woken me up, or rather, which of my feelings was the primary one. My leg hurt, and the best thing to do would have been to take a painkiller. I was also thirsty and needed to use the bathroom. As I stood up, I realized something was wrong. There should have been a wall next to the couch, leading to the door even in the dark. And why hadn't I turned on the nightlight?
Limping, I walked across the room and tripped over to the curtains. It turned out that their thickness plunged the room into complete darkness. Outside the window was not an ordinary courtyard at all, but all of Moscow in the palm of my hand! I instantly realized that all the horror was not a dream, but a reality!
Forgetting all my desires, I headed towards the exit. I wondered where I had lost my bag. There should have been a cell phone in it. Maybe Alex called. I didn't want to talk to him, but it would be nice to look at the "missed" one: after all, it's not easy to fall out of love with a person and forget him.
“Awake?”
Andrew met me immediately as I left the room. He was wearing casual pants and a T-shirt and looked great. But can only imagine how I looked!
“Can I use the restroom?” I asked cautiously.
"And calmed down at the same time. Sure, come on in."
"Where's my bag?" I ventured to ask.
Andrew looked around in confusion, obviously trying to remember if he'd seen it. I exhaled dolefully and went into the bathroom. Today isn't my day: I lost my boyfriend, lost my bag, and in it, by the way, my documents! I can envision the challenge now! I'll have to run to the police, pay a fine, sign up at the MFC and manage to get there. And also SNILS, policy, travel card, cards! The telephone is gone too! And to top it all off, I looked like an avant-garde painting! Mascara managed to smudge, and in some places even mixed with lipstick.
I washed my face, took off the other stocking and threw it in the trash. The best thing for me to do now was to go home. But how? The money's in my bag, but it's nowhere to be found. There was some change in my coat pocket, though. It should be enough for the subway. If only it worked! I need to ask the landlord the address of his apartment and how far it is from the subway. Having made up my mind, I went to look for him. Or rather, to the sounds.
I