Aloua S.
The events described in the book are fiction. Mentioned names and titles are result of author’s imagination. Any references to living persons or real events are purely coincidental.
The life story of an ordinary guy living in the present time in the metropolitan city. Many difficulties await him: the parents’ divorce, moving from a large mansion to a small apartment, lack of understanding, lack of money, mother’s disease, betrayal, sect.
Despite all of these, he gathers his strength and tries to live on. But it turns out, that to play fair sometimes is very disadvantageously, so he decides to radically change his life at the expense of a wealthy father. From among the “nerds”, he completely transformed into the most inveterate “golden youth”.
Such a life turns out to be very much to our hero’s taste, and he becomes so keen on his new life that over time he runs into big debts. Arrangement of his own kidnapping and demanding of a ransom from his father he sees as the only way out. But during the ransom, a real kidnapping takes place in which all the participants are taken hostage.
Content:
Alma-Ata. Winter. Noon. Blinding sun, sparkling snow and light frost – to me this is the most harmonious weather. I would call it perfect if it hadn’t been spoiled by the screams and smashing of plates coming from a cottage in an elite area of the city. The cottage was big and decorated with gold elements. But the phrase: “the rich also cry” was suitable for this more than ever. It was a quarrel of an immature family: the young husband and wife again began to sort things out. And a five-year-old boy named Damir watched a quarrel of his parents sitting on the stairs leading to the second floor of the cottage.
– Your damn job! Your night negotiations! I already feed up with it! And the son?! He’s waiting for you to show his drawings. Screw the drawings, just to stay with you! – wife shouted at her husband, while throwing the plates in his direction.
– Why don’t you understand?! – the man shouted, trying to evade the household items flying at him: – that everything you have: this house, car, garms, all thanks to the fact that I AM EARNING MONEY! And Damir will grow up and he will understand everything himself. After all, why does he have a mother? – the husband asked indignantly. The child, no longer able to withstand the endless shouts of his parents, runs into his room and flops on the bed sobbing. The crying boy is not the first time watching the scandals of his parents, these quarrels left a deep wound in his life.
Yes, it was me. I would like to tell the story of my life, on the basis of which you can write a manual – how you shouldn’t live. So, let’s begin. Let’s move to 1997, when I was in primary school. After classes, just at lunchtime, my father used to wait for me near the school in a company car. Full of joy and confidence, with a pleased smile, I waved my hand welcoming him. My father used to be in the car, waving back with one hand, holding the cell phone with the other, having a conversation. As soon as I got into the car, my father greeted me with the smile and hugged tightly, holding the phone with his shoulder. As always, we immediately started to play: we waved our hands, imitating the boxers. In these fights, I always turned out to be the winner, so I received from him the nickname “Ali”1. But more often, we didn’t play to the end, because persons on the other end interrupted the father all the time. And at once father became serious and completely immersed in telephone conversations. And I was left without attention and rode all the way in silence, looking out the window and being extremely offended.
After a while, he began to work for hours and came much later than usual. And once he was so late that I had to wait for him for two hours near the school. In a couple of months later, only the driver came for me. But I still did not lose hope and waited for my father. When I got into the car, the driver only said: “Unfortunately, Mr. Keeng could not come, but he left a message that Ali should be well prepared for the evening fight”. But even in the evening my father did not always return home, as he worked until late. And if he came early, he was terribly tired. It happened every time. So I began to hate his work. It was the main obstacle between our relationships. But with my mother, we were always together: playing, learning lessons, doing household chores. She was perfect in every way: she took care for me, paid a lot of attention, protected me from the outside world and did my homework with me. But her quality as an ideal mother did not define her as a wife: as soon as the father’s foot stepped into the house, my mother changed. Before, I didn’t understand parents, I didn’t understand why they had rows. It seemed to me that they have everything they need for life: a big house, a car, money. But only now, as an adult, I realized that this is not the main criterion of happiness.
