"Where am I?"
"I don't quite understand how this is possible, but I recognized you. Come in, Ivan Maksimovich, sit down, " the woman replied, as if in a state of prostration.
"How do you know my middle name?"
"We'll get to know each other.".. Maksim…"your father's coming," the man said, getting up from the table.
***
"Is it really eighty-nine?" – biting off a slice of Soviet sausage, the guy asked.
– Yes, van, for us this is the usual and natural course of time. Tell us about-how you live? my mother asked.
– What do you do for a living? my father added.
– Yes, I am…– considering how to present your, to put it mildly, not quite legal activity, Ivan drawled. But then I got my bearings and changed the subject:
– What kind of activity and life? If you really are my ancestors and I have somehow been transported back thirty years, then you'd better tell me how it happened that I don't know my parents. Do you know what it's been like without my father and mother all these years? What does a child feel when they watch their families on TV and don't know what parental warmth and support is? Why are you so sad? No answer?
Maxim Mikhailovich looked at the floor.
– I will answer, – my wife Olga said quietly, – when you were born, our life changed, it is a natural process, but we were not ready for these changes. The constant screaming, the sleepless nights, the nerves as a consequence of the discord. Maxim did not get enough sleep, went to work in the morning with a cast-iron head and eventually gave an ultimatum: either I or this little screaming creature.
"You memorized everything word for word…,– surprised detached issued a man.
I was afraid your father more than life feared, and there was something to fear, – said Olga, a Bathrobe covering the bruise on forearm, – so tossed you to the gates of the orphanage of the district centre.
"You didn't love me at all?" Ivan asked in a choked voice.
"I did, and I still do." I only sent the child to an orphanage for one reason – it would be safer for you here than where your father could reach you.
– So that means from whom I have this vein of aggression and rage. Well, dad, consider the boomerang back, now don't forget it…
Ivan's face was calm, his tone quiet and insinuating, but there was lightning in his eyes. In an instant, he hurled the knife from his bosom at his father, who was sitting across from him, but the blade clanged as it struck the tree. Ivan realized with dismay that he was sitting on the ground, in the very Park from which he had disappeared. In front of him stood a huge tree trunk, in which the handle of a knife launched at his father often swayed from side to side.
"I saved you from two careless actions today, and I won't protect you again," came the same voice that had sounded in the parents ' hut.
"You know now that you have to pay the bills, it can happen right away, maybe in thirty years, as in your case with your father, maybe in eighty or ninety, in the next incarnation, or in the next incarnation.
Tikhon went to the tree, easily removing the knife from it, and handed it to Ivan.
He continued:
– It's not karma, not a fee for the offense and not so much a boomerang, however, on the Ground it sounds completely out of place. This is simply the law of causation. You create an action that creates certain consequences. You are a Creator Ivan, not a murderer, think what you are doing, and then in thirty years no one will throw sharpened pieces of iron at you. Get up off the ground, people are watching. While your hands are still clean, but I will not appear at your fork again, you will choose from now on which way to go.
