The Wait -love story

A jolly crowd of young men and girls travelled to Golden Beaches of Florida by bus. Caressing sun, warm sand, blue water and every conceivable pleasure were waiting for them. They love and were beloved. They favoured the people around them with a smile. They wanted everybody to be happy.

Rather young man was sitting beside them. Every surge of delight, every outburst of laughter mirrored with anguish in his gloomy face. He strained and lapsed into a cocoon of self-isolation more and more.

One of the girls couldn’t bear it any more and took a seat next to him. She learnt the name of that gloomy fellow. It was found that he had served four years in a New York jail and was heading home. That surprised her greatly. Why is he so sad?

- Are you married?

The answer was rather weird.

- I don’t know.

The perplexed girl repeated again:

- You don’t know this?

He told her his story. When he was clapped into prison he wrote to his wife that he would be away for a long time. If she would feel sick of waiting or children would begin to ask about him and that would cause her pain… To cut a long story short if she would go under she was free-hearted to forget him.

- Find a new husband, - I wrote to her, - you don’t have to inform me.

- You are going home without knowing what future has in store for you?

- Yes, - he replied. It was extremely difficult for him to hide his conceal.

Girl’s filled with sympathy look made him share the most essential thing with her.

- Week ago I was told that I had been discharged on parole. So I wrote to my wife again. Uptown you’ll notice a big oak close by highway. If I’m needed she should hang up a yellow kerchief on that tree. I’ll be back. But if she doesn’t want to see me again, she shouldn’t do anything – I will go past.

The town was quite near. Young people took the front seats. Tension grew on and on with every kilometer. The man closed his eyes in exhaustion.

Suddenly the passengers jumped up and began to dance and sing. He looked out of the window and was knocked all of a heap: oak’s branches were entirely dotted with yellow kerchiefs trembling in the wind and welcoming him cheerfully.

                                                        

              Translated by Brodnikova Svetlana

                                           Boris Ganago