Artem stood at the Church of the Protection of the Mother of God on Kozlen and did not dare to enter the church.
His grandmother baptized him when he was a child, and although he rarely went to the temple, he still believed in God Artem, albeit not in a bookstorey way, not in the right way. He attended the church either in case of unsolvable questions, or in case of great joy. He placed candles, read prayers specially printed for people like him on the A4 sheets and talked to him as he could, in his own words.
Today, on Palm Sunday, there was a wonderful sunny weather. The morning service was over, and the evening service was still a few hours away. Artem chose to go to the temple at a time when there would be as few people as possible. He was painfully shy about being baptized in front of everybody or bowing down, and he didn't want to be criticized by ubiquitous church grandmothers if he didn't know he was going to do something wrong. Now he did not dare to ask the ministers of the temple or the church shop which icon to put a candle to in his situation.
For those like him at the entrance, there was an information board where believers were told who to pray to in case of different needs. On the sides of the shield for the sake of the feast, the believers placed two vases as big as buckets with sanctified willow trees. Those who wished could take a few branches from there for a bouquet. "About the help in teaching, about the successful passing of exams, coursework, diplomas, tests - the icon of the Mother of God "Adding Mind" - for the second time in a row read by Artyom. - About the help in getting a job and returning the lost things to the holy martyr Trifon. About getting rid of drunkenness, drug addiction, addiction to gambling and slot machines: the icons of the Mother of God "The indescribable bowl". On the resolution of problems in marriage and reconciliation of husband and wife: the holy martyrs and confessors Gury, Samon and Abib.
This shield reminded Artyom of the information board at the polyclinic. There, too, was a specialization of the doctor in one column, and in the other - his last name, first name and patronymic. For example, the neurologist was Ostap Semenovich Kucheryuk. It is clear that with neuritis and myositis it is to him. Traumatologist - Vadim Ivanovich Ivanov. To this with fractures and dislocations. The gastroenterologist is Ivan Lapushkin. To him, if the ulcer has seized. Artem knew the doctors in the district polyclinic quite well. Twelve years ago he served six months in Chechnya. The guys from his unit participated in special operations, covered military columns. There Artem received a contusion, which every autumn and spring made itself felt.
However, Artem believed that he was unspeakably lucky. He came home with his arms and legs, and that a couple of scars on his face - you'd think that some people even without any Chechen scars get such scars somewhere in a fight or because of children's pranks. Artem's appearance seemed ordinary, but people used to remember him. Tall, with straight posture, with a short hedgehog of hard black hair, he moved somehow in a special way - sparingly and accurately, he held on confidently and calmly, behaved with subtle modest dignity, and all this together gave him a warrior. He never philosophized on this topic, but once his boyfriend, Goshan, who had also served, though not fought, explained this difference to him over a glass of vodka:
- They say that they are not born soldiers, they become soldiers - well, truly so. But not all soldiers are soldiers and vice versa. You are not a soldier, you are a warrior! From birth! A soldier should be ordered to survive, a warrior's chief commander is an inner notion of honor and duty, and what he strives for is known to God alone.
Artyom only waved away from Goshan and reminded that his family was just collective farmers, that he came from the village, and there everybody serves, and who cares if you are a soldier or a warrior, a tractor driver or a milker. Got a subpoena - go to the military registration and enlistment office!
Artyom did not ask himself any complicated questions, and he had more than enough of the simplest, most earthly questions. It seemed that he just lived day after day and year after year, just like everyone else lives like in the song of Yuri Shevchuk: "He just drank, ate, slept, stretched out gray days / Stretched gray days, they are the only ones".
After the army there was no work for him in the village - sometimes! He moved to the city, rented a house, got a job in a furniture company as a student of a master - it happens too! I graduated from the university in absentia and gradually got to the post of deputy commercial director - even if less often, but sometimes this happens to ordinary village guys. He married Katya, a classmate of the economics department. Again, such marriages are not uncommon. It didn't work out. Divorced. It is good that they did not have time to have children. A long time and with scandals shared the apartment together. Well, unhappy unions, crashed about everyday life, it is met anywhere and with anyone.
To be continued on the next part