Татьяна Викентьева – "STOLEN IMMORTALITY" (страница 3)

Alexander sighed and closed the door behind him. He walked over to the table.

Everything in his office was new and ultra-modern: the desk, the chair, the office equipment... Alexander spared no expense. He'd been swimming in it lately. He could now buy anything! Airplanes, yachts, villas, cars! Luxurious mansions! Famous paintings! Magnificent jewelry! The most expensive things in the world were within his means! And what's more, he could buy people too! After all, he knew all people were corruptible. But each person has their own price!

Alexander had once dreamed of becoming rich. But now he was more than just rich.

He was an oligarch! And what is an oligarch? He's practically a god on earth. There's little he can't control. With money, he could solve any problem! And Alexander did solve...

There was a timid knock at the door. Then the secretary opened it and, smiling sweetly, said:

- Excuse me, Alexander Ivanovich. I wanted to know: should I bring you some coffee?

"Coffee?" Alexander asked thoughtfully. "No, Lenochka. Not yet. You can bring it later. I have an important meeting today. An Arab sheikh and his translator should be arriving any minute. As soon as they arrive, take them to me."

"Okay, Alexander Ivanovich," the secretary turned on her heels so the boss could see her beautiful, shapely legs. After a brief pause, she swayed her hips sexily and closed the door behind her.

Alexander felt desire. A passionate desire for a woman. He wasn't surprised. After all, his new body matched his real age. He'd chosen this body specifically—the body of a healthy forty-year-old man.

The body of a basketball player. Not a beauty. But not ugly either. Athletically built. With perfectly functioning internal organs.

And now his new body responded most naturally to the beautiful woman. However, Alexander had no intention of giving in to the instincts of his new body. His soul had long been free of passions. Therefore, he could always tame his new flesh. And now he did not fail to do so, turning his thoughts to the topic he had pondered before—wealth. This topic had intrigued him since childhood. He was only five years old when he first began to wonder why some people lived richly and others poorly. This happened during that memorable time when fate had brought the boy into a wealthy Jewish family.

Alexander sat down on a chair, closed his eyes and again plunged into memories...

The young couple who picked up Sasha Zavidov from the Detsky Mir store brought the boy to their country house in the Moscow region.

It was a huge, beautiful house. Three floors, eighteen rooms, a magnificent living room with an expensive fireplace, a large, cozy dining room, three magnificent rooms with musical instruments, and a fabulous children's room filled with a variety of toys!

Near the house was a summer swimming pool and flowerbeds filled with rare and beautiful flowers. A little further away stood a modern garage for several cars. And even further away lay a fragrant orchard!

When Sasha saw this enormous house, he gasped in amazement! He had never imagined such houses existed! He had never seen such a wonder in his village. The boy was so amazed that he temporarily forgot his grief and examined the house with curiosity. Luckily, no one stopped him!

The young couple was busy with their own affairs. The man left to park the car in the garage. His wife went into the kitchen, entrusting her son Yasha to look after the little guest. However, the Jewish boy had disappeared without ever meeting his Russian peer. So Sasha wandered the house alone, curiously examining every room...

Half an hour later, the boy's interesting activity was interrupted by a woman's melodious voice. She was calling everyone to dinner. Sasha entered the dining room, looked at the dining table, and gasped in amazement again! The table was laden with dishes he'd never seen before! Beautiful vases held fruits he'd never tasted before! The boy was amazed again!

The woman invited them to the table. Sasha sat down. Soon the woman's husband and son arrived. They began the meal.

Sasha ate with incredible speed and greed. He swallowed the delicious food almost without chewing, filling his mouth with more. No one reprimanded him. The owners merely exchanged glances and looked compassionately at the boy. Their son, Yasha, paid no attention to their gluttonous guest.

When the dinner was over, the man said:

-Boy! We know your name is Sasha. What's your last name?

“Zavidov,” said Sasha, swallowing the last piece of food.

- I see. So your name is Sasha Zavidov. And our last name is Levin. My name is Joseph. And my wife is Sonya. You can call us: Uncle Joseph and Aunt Sonya. - The man paused briefly, and then continued. - And you already know the name of our son. I hope you have become friends with him?

Sasha didn't answer. He just glanced sideways at the Jewish boy.

“Well, why are you silent?” the man continued to interrogate Sasha. “Tell me, have you become friends with Yasha?”

Sasha remained silent again. Then the man turned to his son:

-Yashenka! Son! What's the matter? Haven't you become friends with our guest?

“No, dad,” the Jewish boy answered quietly.

-Why?

-I'm fine alone.

-What do you mean, it's okay to be alone? Sasha is our guest. And you should be polite and friendly with him. Do you understand?

-Yes, dad.

"So why haven't you become friends with him? Sasha will be staying with us until his mother gets better. And you, son, must spend all your time with him: play, go for walks, swim in the pool, ride a bike... Basically, be friends. Will you promise me that?"

“I promise,” Yasha answered quietly and looked at Sasha.

"Well, good. Now I'm at peace. You've never lied to me, son," the man said, stroking Yasha's head.

This small gesture of affection from his father made Sasha feel uneasy. He suddenly remembered his father: harsh, rude, perpetually dissatisfied, and constantly drunk. His father had never spoken to him the way Uncle Joseph spoke to his son Yasha! His father had never stroked his head, never cared for him, never shown any interest in his affairs! Sasha remembered only the bad things about his father: how he'd caused scandals, how he'd beaten his mother and him half to death, how he'd thrown them out of the house... The dark thoughts that had overwhelmed Sasha were interrupted by a woman's melodic voice. Aunt Sonya's. She said the boys could go play.

Sasha stood up and followed the Jewish boy. Yasha led him into the children's room. When the boys were alone, they looked at each other meaningfully and were silent for a long time. It was a strange silence. Not childish, but somehow very hostile. It was then, for the first time, that Sasha felt he hated this Jewish boy. But why? For what? He couldn't explain it. The hatred was inside him, subconsciously. After all, he couldn't consciously hate Yasha. There was no reason for it. The boys hadn't met yet, hadn't had a fight yet...

Yasha was the first to break the silence. He said:

-This is my room. I play here. Do you want to play with me?

“I want to,” Sasha answered.

“What games can you play?” the Jewish boy asked.

-To war. To lapta. And also - to family.

- To the family? How so? - Yasha was surprised.

- It's very simple. I play a drunk dad. I come home and start beating everyone up...

- Beat?- Yasha was even more surprised. - But why? My dad never hits us!

“And mine hits,” Sasha said sadly and lowered his head.

The boys fell silent again. Each was lost in their own thoughts. After a while, Yasha asked:

-Do you want me to teach you how to play my games?

“I want to,” Sasha answered.

-Well, listen. We're going to play a game called "Living Dead."

“What’s it called?” Sasha asked again, surprised.

"Living dead." Here, look! With this gun, you will kill me. And I will come back to life. You will catch me and kill me again. And I will come back to life again. Do you understand?" asked Yasha, handing Sasha the toy gun.

- I don't understand. A dead person can't come back to life.

-That's not true. My dad does just that. He's figuring out how to bring the dead back to life.

“You’re not joking?” Sasha asked.

“No,” Yasha answered firmly and said impatiently, “Well, what? Will you play with me?”

"I will," Sasha replied. And the boys began to play...

Three weeks passed. Sasha spent them with a Jewish family. It was an interesting and happy time. During this time, he became close friends with the hosts' son, Yasha. The boys played together, slept together, ate together... They became like brothers. And when the time came to part, they were very upset.

Sasha's mother was discharged from the hospital. Uncle Joseph bought train tickets. And then came the day of farewell...

Sasha remembered that day well. Moscow Station. The train. He and his mother were standing by the carriage. Uncle Joseph, Aunt Sonya, and Yasha were seeing them off.

Antonina Yegorovna thanks the young couple for everything they've done for her and Sasha. They, in turn, ask them to remember them and keep in touch: call, write...

Yasha approaches Sasha and asks: