that she believes him, Malika passed by. Her soul felt warm, good, and she was ashamed that at first she was harsh with the young man, and nevertheless she noticed that the guy thoroughly touched Sargel with an abandoned phrase: “I don’t know who this man is: your brother or father.” “My god, it’s impossible to get some decent rest in Almaty,” he muttered, angry. “Has everyone gone crazy, just drinking and dancing? A decent person has nowhere to sit! Wherever you go, they stick like oil, those ‘artists!’ Well, he should just stick to his brushing and pencilling! Let him draw mountains, stones, bushes for me, even turtles, what do I care about that!” He walked away saying this, talking to himself, until he reached the taxi stop. And even in the car, he continued to mutter, warming himself up. When they arrived at the house, Sargel was already completely heated. As soon as they entered the apartment, his blood pressure rose, and he went to bed. Let him feel bad, Malika was glad that her husband had finally closed his mouth. Karatai, it turns out, sent a congratulatory telegram. It was shown to Malika by her ‘sister’ when they, after putting Sargel to bed, sat down in the kitchen to drink tea. Every time Bagila saw Malika’s ‘sister’, an excruciatingly sharp pity arose in her. As a child, while playing on the street, she was hit by a car and was left without an arm and leg. Her neck was contorted by the terrible blow. The left leg, below the knee, passed into a prosthesis covered with a black stocking, and the right arm, bent at the elbow, froze on a sunken stomach. She never wore a dress or a skirt. To hide her misfortune, she wore trousers. In order not to catch the gazes of the people around her, she went to bed earlier than everyone else and got up later than everyone else. According to Malika, the girl was not really her sister, not even a close relative to her, but they were connected by some kind of distant relationship, and only at the request of her father, who lives in the village, Malika persuaded Sargel to take the girl to their house. “Mance, didn’t anyone call us while we were gone?” Malika asked as she poured jam into her tea. The girl’s name was Mancia,
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