Birthday
A Short Story
Yesterday he went to sleep early. He had come home at 9 o’clock –
three hours later than the usual time, and he was very tired. As he entered his home, he
changed his clothes, had his supper, and went to bed. Next day was Sunday, at last. He
would have a day off and sleep as long as he wanted to, but this weekend he was not
fortunate. On the previous Sunday, he had to get up early, too, and fetch a master to fix
the kitchen-range. This weekend he had to prepare for a very important occasion.
At night, he suddenly opened his eyes and felt like he had been awake
all night. He remained absent-minded for some time, and when he came to himself, he turned
his face to the clock hanging on the wall. At first, he could not make out the hands, but
later he saw the dark spot on the figure three. It was five past three. “How early I
awoke!” he thought and pulled his blanket over his head.
It had not been even a minute when he opened his eyes again. The dream
which he had was worrying him and not letting him sleep. He tried to collect his thoughts:
mounting a cliff, falling off the rock he stood on, and rolling down to a dark valley
whose bottom could not be seen. Everything seemed strange to him. Were all of these signs
of something or a warning of danger?
Now, he was ruminating on his sleep and seeking its meaning like a
fortune-teller. Being exasperated by it, he got up and went to the drawing room. The light
was not switched off. “They might have forgotten to turn it off”, he thought and went
to the balcony.
It was impossible to see the entire city because of the buildings
constructed on the plane the neighbourhood. Seeing the same tedious view of neighbourhood
buildings around him each time was making him nervous. What should he do? He could only
buy this apartment with the little money inherited from his late father. He tried to find
a satisfactory apartment near the city center, but it was impossible to do so with the
amount of money he had.
He took a deep breath after closing his eyes. Then he thought about
something and went back to the bedroom. Instead of lying on the bed, he put on his suit
that he wore when he went out.
“What are you doing?” asked his sleepy wife without opening her
eyes.
“Going out. I want to have some fresh air,” he continued, taking
the keys of car. “I feel bored at home.”
“What are you saying? Look at the time,” she said, opening her
eyes.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon.”
It was cool outside. The calm wind of fall was shaking the low trees
and blowing their leaves in the air. Sometimes, the wind became stronger and shook the
windowpanes of the buildings. The moon in the sky looked so near to the earth, as if it
was going to fall down. Despite this view of the moon, it was dark. Not a single light was
switched on in the buildings to illuminate the courtyard. This yard surrounded by
five-storied buildings was under the cover of darkness.
He had not seen anybody yet. Only when he passed near the auto-park did
he see the watchmen in their sentry box on the glass veranda and greeted them by nodding
his head. He knew them as he always parked his car in this auto-park. Yesterday, since he
had come home late, he put his car in front of the building.
He was a bit embarrassed when he saw the watchmen and reproached
himself for coming out at night.
“They might think that I had a fight at home.” he said to himself.
“Who would come out to have a walk at this time?”
Although he did not want to, he decided to go home.
While passing his car, he paused, turned his face towards the car and
thought about something. Then he suddenly approached the car and opened it. He wanted to
drive it as he held the wheel, but a mystic power prevented him from doing so. He stared
at the garden through the windscreen, and then as he lifted his head, he saw his eyes in
the rearview mirror.
He had become old. Although he was only 30, the wrinkles on his face
made him look older. His hair was touched with gray, and small wrinkles appeared both on
his forehead and cheeks. These wrinkles were striking when he smiled and made him look
like a tired traveler on a long journey. These changes appeared on him after the death of
his father.
Diverting his face from the windscreen he looked at his car. It had
also become old. He put his hand on the side seat and felt something touching his fingers.
At first, he did not know what it was, but then he remembered this black spot made when
his friend, Seymour, burned it with his cigarette.
He wondered how long it was since he had contacted Seymour the last
time. It was hard for him to answer, because this had happened five or six years ago.
He drove his car to the center of the city. It had been a long time
since he saw his acquaintances and friends.
He was driving at a slow speed and turned his face left and right
looking at the old buildings of the twentieth century. The magnificence and splendor of
these buildings seemed to have been left behind in an earlier time. Due to their
appearance, they resembled a sorrowful, tired, old man. When a car passed near them at a
high speed, their stones shook like this man’s bones. These buildings were waiting for
the day when they would be demolished; in their places new multi-storied buildings would
be constructed.
Having noticed this separation, he watched these buildings whose upper
floors could not be seen like the top of a mountain hidden from view by clouds. Suddenly,
he saw a familiar structure and pulled the car over to the side of the road to stare at
the building, his old friend.
By Samed Safarov
to be continued
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