The official site of Ukrainian writer of fiction

The official site of Ukrainian writer of fiction



Page 2




Of course, I've never thought about the idea of the presidency as a real idea, but I was curious. I was very curious why I still did not hear anything about Khmurik.


It is clear that no one can be president of the country in age of twenty-nine years old. Even more, no one can be even nominated as a president in such young age by the law. But as I can understand, if you are planning become a leader of the country in your fifty years, in your thirty you should already begin a politically-related career for future start. Well I do not know, probably you should be either a parliamentary deputy or a boss of big company, or at least a chief editor of some famous newspaper.


I mean, if Khmurik achieved any of those positions, I would definitely had heard about it. I would have certainly seen his face in TV news, or the other former classmates would already have said me about his success.


But no, nobody heard about Yehor. Maybe he has immigrated to the other country and decided to become president there?


Khmurik lived far enough from me. We were not very close and great friends. And I was fully absorbed in new exciting adult life after leaving school. Frankly, I just didn't have time to think much about Yehor.


But as soon as my age got closer to thirty, my curiosity began to rise.


How is my former classmate? What about his career? And at last… When will he nominate me for a Minister? (hee-hee)


So one day I decided to visit him.








As I already mentioned, Khmurik lived only with his mother in a standard two room apartments on the far side of a large residential area. It has been a long time since I was there last time, and I was not sure that his mother would remember me. Anastasiya Fedorivna gave birth to Khmurik late, being about forty years old. So she looked as a dried up old woman already even when we were just learning at school. Now she obviously must be a woman aged seventy no less.


But when I told her my name at the door, the elderly woman immediately remembered me.


‘Yes, I remember you. You were at school with my Yehor. Please, come in!’


I entered the apartment and almost immediatly felt an unpleasant musty smell of old human body. It smelled like if I was in a nursing home now. And finally, I almost was not wrong. The three old women were sitting at the table in the living room. They all were also dried-up and shrivelled as the lady of the house was. Noticing me, the old women friendly nodded their heads.


‘I like to play in lotto with my neighbors sometimes.’ Anastasiya Fedorivna explained.


‘Oh, am so sorry that I interrupted your game. If Yehor isn't at home, I'll come some other time...’


I do not know why, but suddenly I felt the overwhelming desire to retire from this ‘jolly party’ as soon as possible.


‘Yes, he is absent now.’ Anastasiya Fedorivna began to talk while I have almost turned towards the door. ‘But he went out to the store and is just about to come. Please, wait for him... with us.’


Those words ‘went to the store’ and the modest furnishings in the apartment made me clear that Khmurik's doing are not so good actually. For these things absolutely didn't suit for a successful guy. That was obvious that Yehor hardly achieved a position either a parliamentary deputy or a boss of big company, or even a seat of chief editor of some cheap local newspaper. You just can't use the words ‘a boss of big company’ and ‘went to the store’ for the same person simultaneously! Because big boys are not going to shops themselves, all the more, on foot. Well, so he even has not a car of his own!


I certainly was not very happy to wait for my former friend in such nice circle of old hags. But I really did not want to leave this place until I see Khmurik.


Because there was still some hope, somewhere deep in my soul. So I stayed.


‘Thank you. I am doing well.’ I answered the first question of Khmurik's mom while we were waiting. ‘I am working, married, daughter is growing up. And how is Yehor?’


‘Ah, we... Oh, do not ask me why I am so gloomy!’ the old woman sadly shook her head. And suddenly we all have heard a clicking of the door lock. ‘That's him, Yehor! Well, now you'll see yourself...’




@ Dmytro Bondarenko 2016- 2018