TWENTY-THREE ZERO-ZERO

Sixteen years ago I was cooler than any toughest guy today. And not because I was rich, but rather because I lived without regrets. I loved because I loved, and spent money because I had it.

According to my mommy, my coming into this world was not easy at all. And she also loved to add: �Oh, the doctors had such a hard time. The labor pain was so strong that I bent the back of my bed. But everything went well, you were born in the evening, at twenty-three zero-zero. Without blinking, you were looking at me with your blue eyes and even did not intend to cry � until the doctor�s hand of iron slapped you. After three days, despite the regulations, they took you to show to the whole maternity ward: �Look, - the Head of the ward was saying, - what a handsome boy! Who would ever think? Such a hard labor and such an extraordinary child!� I was happy�.

My father lived and worked in Moscow. I admired him, although saw him rarely. Dad was a military man, headed personal bodyguard service for somebody� His presence at home was always a holiday. Starting from the age of four, I absolutely consciously started practicing karate. I wanted to be like him � strong, brave, tranquil and confident. That lasted up until I was fifteen, and then something clicked, something that can be called a teenagers age. I felt lonely without my father, but he was not there. And I continued doing karate with twofold zeal, learned sadist grips on streets and practiced blows in a gym up to losing conscience� And everything was just to meet him one day and show silently what I have learned while he was away from home.

But life has made it�s own decisions. He was killed: �Killed while fulfilling the duty�.  My Moscow grandma was stricken with paralysis and mom moved to live with her. She stayed there and me � here. Alone. I was nineteen.

I studied by correspondence and worked at a foreign currency night bar on Nevsky. Knew by sight the whole �beau monde of St.-Pete�s underground�, at those times they weren�t called bandits yet. I used to hang around with some of them.

Girls were throwing themselves at me. As to me, I was very selective at throwing them at myself. I was very young, but did not want to have easy victories, did not want broken destinies. Simple sex is pleasant, but this is not enough. A woman with whom you can engage in a trial of the strength of charm and intellect is a totally different thing. You can allow yourself being a bit insane. Now it is a pleasure to recall that once I almost happened to be �an artist�. I laid a huge heart with fresh flowers in front of her windows. Amusing? Perhaps. Silly? I�m not sure. But that�s how I lived.

Worked at nights. In the mornings when the whole city was still sleeping, I would loaf. At daytime I would spend couple of hours with textbooks and then dive into the night life again. The future looked bright and clear. The whole world at your feet? You can put it like that.

My birthday. I was going to turn twenty-nine. Why was? Did I die? No, but from this day onwards a new countdown has started. It was not me who drove. My friends were meeting me at the train station, I had left them the keys from my car to use while I was away to visit my mom for a couple of days. And came back in time to drain my cup in full. There was a novelty in the car: a rear-view mirror with watches. A cool imported toy � a friends� present. There�s lots of such rubbish nowadays, but at those times that was pretty cool. That�s what stayed in my mind. It was twenty-three zero-zero, when a strong blow into the car threw us under the wheels of the approaching headlights.

More than anything else I wanted to lose consciousness, to escape the pain and the fear, but�

I remember everything: how they were breaking the car open� And that terrible pain in my whole body. I wanted to ask, but there was no voice, and I am not completely sure whether I moved my lips. Only in the ambulance car I learned that out of four I was the only one alive. The car was so smashed that bodies of two of my friends were extracted by parts. And from that moment I stopped feeling the pain�

Definitely, if you want to live, you firmly hold to the life. I used to work behind a bar stand and did not become a drunkard. I knew people who traded a variety of dirty things and did not get addicted to that trash. Free and easy women and men with dark and white skin had offered me sweet life many times, promised big money. It�s easier to be an Alfonse than to stand behind the bar stand, and nevertheless � no. And friends? With my friends, whose most harmless �toy� were brass-knuckles, I could have got into a pretty unpleasant mess thousands of times. Especially in those times. And still I haven�t died. I haven�t become a drunkard although vodka poured in streams, haven�t died on streets bleeding, only because I happened to be not in that place, not at that time, not with those people. Was I lucky? Yes, lucky, too.

But then, in that car, on the day of my birthday, I was there where I wanted to be, and with those whom I knew for many years, called them friends. And instantly - three hearts stopped beating, and my life started anew. Though, it took a while before I started referring to it as the life.

Hospital, surgery. And then hospital again, and again surgery. Basically, the doctors assembled my spine anew. Now I know what a sterilized hell looks like. Angels have also visited me more than once. But pain and anger at your feebleness torture you during the day and at night, in a dream, and out of its reach. Helpless rage is dazzling, and you don�t think about this heavenly creature with white wings. Probably, that is exactly why I did not die. �How to clamber out? How to live in a lying position? How?..� � these questions preoccupied all of me, but not �Where will my soul end up being?�.

Getting used to a wheelchair, but coming out of this battle as a winner, I left the hospital forever. Yes, afterwards I was lucky. Indeed, lucky. Perhaps, because in my �previous� life I have never been weak or foul. Necessary telephone numbers left by different people at different times in my phonebook have played their role. I called and asked for help. Nobody came with cognac so that I could have an opportunity to cry and boast of memories of the past. As if to say � see, who I was and who I have become. They almost did not let me recover. They came and gave me keys from a car, having announced that that was not a present, and that the cost of the car would be deducted from my salary.

�You owe us. And until you give it back � you won�t relax�. I remembered these words for my whole life. I am very grateful for these words.

A lot has been lived through, and even more has been learned and felt. And now my world, my life are measured not by hard currency or availability of goods for myself, but by the spiritual unrest. And when my vital strength disappears, one can try to look back and will see preserved and mighty woods. And this is very important.