WORTH OF ADMIRATION

This morning mother left Alice at her nanny’s. This happened seldom, once a week, not each week actually. Alice liked to stay there. There was pleasant smell of different herbs in every corner of apartment and many interesting knick-knacks that Alice examined for hours. She liked to sleep in a midday. Disliking to sink in feather bed, she choosed to sleep on Persian carpet. She observed goldfishes in aquarium and looked at nanny’s playing patience. Nobody plays patience nowdays. Nanny was excellent cook and skillful needlewoman.

-What else are you skillful in? – asked Alice once.

-I studied in grammar-school for girls. We studied languages: Latin, Greek, English, German, French. We studied New Testament also. We studied to play piano, to sew clothing.

-What is New Testament?

-We studied admiration and worship.

-Could you teach me that?- asked agitated Alice.

Nanny thought a little.

-May be.

She laid out on the table few small portraits in golden frames and showed them to Alice one by one.

-Do you like them?- asked nanny.

-Not particularly. Seen too much light on these portraits. Why these people are so tired?

-We studied admiration by them.

-I would better admire by you. You are so gentle and warm,- laughed Alice, embracing her.

Next time Alice stayed at nanny’s in evening. In entrance hall was marvelous smell of supper. Alice came in the kitchen. On the kitchen table on the plate lay little rissoles cooked with most natural spices.

-Treat yourself to,- said nanny.

Alice sat down at the table, but didn’t begin to eat.

-Why don’t you eat?

-If I’ll eat them, I’ll have nothing to smell.

Nanny pulled out baking tray full of these rissoles and Alice ate them from her plate, smelling and playing on the tray.

Much time has passed before Alice was at nanny’s again and she examined what changed here and didn’t find anything new. Passing by pier glass, Alice felt familiar smell and stopped. New Paleh box stood there and smell came from it. Alice opened it and smelled inside. It was empty, but smell was strong and rissoles that she liked so much smelled so.

-How is it possible that empty box keeps smell of what is already eaten? This is magic, of course,- thought Alice.

She closed the box immediately to keep the smell and looked at the lid. Girl and boy in Russian national clothing were drawn there with golden beams of light around them. Alice noticed by expression of their eyes that they love each other and this seemed to Alice so wonderful that she examined it the whole day and the whole next day also.

-No wonder. Box is magic, picture is magic too, – decided Alice.

After few weeks Alice rushed to pier glass straight from entrance hall, but Paleh box didn’t smell at all. Looking at the picture on its lid, Alice wondered how could she discern expressions of their eyes when it is not possible to discern eyes themselves, so small they were. Box wasn’t magic any more. Pondering about that, she understood that wonderful smell made this box magic and without this smell it’s just a simple box. It was something new and interesting to her and she decided to smell different things and to see magic again. At home she took some books and smelled all pictures in them, but didn’t see anything. She took all family photos and it was useless again.

One Saturday Alice’s mother began clothing washing. Carrying too much clothing for washing machine, mother dropped father’s shirt and Alice picked it up. Alice smelled it and suddenly saw herself quite baby sitting on father’s lap. She closed her eyes to see better and smelled it again and when opened her eyes saw her mother, looking at her with horror. In evening great family quarrel took place and father moved all his clothes to his office in a suitcase. He began to use cheap eau de cologne and his colleagues cheered him up:

-You are inventive, Jean, as always. Passing by your office, we already know are you in or out.

Alice was five year old and slept in mother’s room. Problems began when mother allowed for Alice a separate room. Her father began to spend all nights outdoors. Alice was already twelve year old and it was up to her to find it out. One evening she overheard parents conversation.

-You lied me all these years!- exclaimed mother,- It is time to tell the truth at last.

-My dear! You are wrong. I’m not angel, of course, but I’m not…

-You can’t be here at night until you tell me the truth.

-I can’t spend all nights in office. Take pity on me! I am falling off my legs.

-Go out now.

Alice was hearing as father is dressing and then entrance door slammed.

Half year later father got award and his salary significantly grew. Now he was at home once a week, then once a few weeks. He came just for his books. One spring midday he came home after two months absence to have a rest. Alice entered his room to look at him. He was asleep on his bed without sheets, blanket and pillow and books were laid out around. He looked slimmer and younger clad in elegant new suit, shirt and even tie. Alice recalled how much he laughed at suits and ties. She went out and in entrance hall saw new elegant shoes instead his usual sneakers. His overcoat smelled exquisitely and Alice couldn’t forget this smell in no way. It haunted her day and night and she was tired out. She couldn’t sleep and looked pale with blue shadows round her eyes.

She realized that would be better to talk to mother about it, but instinctively dreaded this. One day she fainted at the lesson and manager released her home. Passing by pharmacy, she bought pack of sleeping pills. At home she took a pill, but sudden despair seized her and she quickly swallowed all pills one by one. At last she calmed herself after months of distress, indifferent to anything else. Smiling, she fell asleep.

She opened her eyes. Father was sitting on her bed and smiled. She dressed silently and they went out to dine together. Jean was happy to spend time with her and talked only about his projects. Looking to his frank face, Alice was sure that he was faithful husband, but suspicions, concerning her parents was impossible to deceive, she saw this abnormality in conflict outcome and didn’t cease to worry.

-If conflict’s root is not parents, then it’s she herself,- she thought and recollecting horror in mother’s eyes, decided- No wonder! All parents don’t appreciate their children. Well, may be not all and not always.

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