Edgars ņš - Fall in love in a weekwe get by

briefly. – Cause addiction and increase likelihood.

– What about without them? naturally?

“Then we’ll have to calculate the probability of seniority.”

– Whose seniority? – It seems that I didn’t understand anything at all.

– A boy, of course.

– Fifty-fifty, as far as I remember the school physiology course.

– In our world, you can change the ratio. But the result depends on too many factors.

–Who do you want? – I couldn’t stand it.

“I can’t choose,” it sounded irritated, but behind the irritation one could sense confusion. ?Well, never thought about it? At least… hypothetically! – And you?

“I want two,” I answered seriously. – Growing up alone… it’s sad, and then it’s also lonely. And it doesn’t matter who… that’s how it turns out. I won’t love my daughter less if I wanted a son. Or vice versa. So – why choose? It's men who always want someone specific. Or an heir, or a little princess.

– As you can see, not always. There are more severe cases.

“I see,” I smiled. – And honestly, I like that you can't choose.

“The eldest must be a boy,” Dougal said with conviction. – A younger sister is a reason to grow up with a sense of responsibility.

“Being an older sister is also useful.” It seems so to me.

We reached the openwork lattice and turned into the open gates of the park. It was now quiet and deserted, the spreading crowns rustled in the light wind, and the yellowish light of lanterns flooded the paths strewn with fine white sand. The roar of the surf came here as a faint echo, and some night birds screamed in the bushes.

We sat on a bench under a lantern. I leaned against Dougal's shoulder, and for some reason it felt easy and natural. And just as naturally, he put his hand on my shoulders, hugging me. Asked:

– Isn’t it time to change your dress to something warmer?

– No. I feel… good.

“Then let’s change something else.”

A small bottle fell into my palm, the glass was warm, and I was suddenly scared. But she immediately clenched her fingers tightly. She asked in a whisper:

– What's there?

– The result of yesterday's experiment. Will you take the risk?

– I'll take a risk. But I'm interested! Still no questions? – I clarified.

– Without. Just have a drink and imagine yourself…you. Your real self, the way you remember and know yourself, the way you are used to seeing in the mirror.

Myself? Sally… Freya? Not… not that damn Barbie?!

I drank it in one gulp and closed my eyes tightly. It was easy to imagine. Much easier than imagining clean cups or this dress. It was enough to remember. An ordinary morning. How I walk barefoot into the bathroom, look in the mirror, smooth my tousled hair with my fingers, but it only gets more shaggy… I wash my face and go to the kitchen to make coffee. I catch the reflection of my figure in the dark glass of the cupboard and wave my hand: “Good morning, Sally!”

Only now, belatedly, melancholy came over me. Previously, probably, there was simply no time for it. I wiped my tears. She turned to Dougal. I wanted to ask – why is all this?

But he looked at me… so strange. Attentively, intently and… tenderly? It was as if he was trying to remember every smallest detail and at the same time appreciate everything… in its entirety. From bare feet to a T-shirt with… ? God! An old, comfortable, beloved, already stretched out and slipping off the shoulder, T-shirt with Darth Vader! Sally, you're in your repertoire. But… It's true. Such as there is. I ran my fingers through my hair. Like in a dream. As always in the morning. Disheveled, uneven strands stick out in all directions. She sighed. God, what a blessing it is to feel… normal? Without that weight in your bra! Easy! Correct. Not a glossy doll with pouty lips.

Dougal moved closer, carefully, as if afraid that any of his movements would suddenly evaporate or melt, touched my cheek, and gently raised my chin. He looked without stopping, squinted, then said:

– Gray. Right?

I nodded silently. Suddenly my lips trembled. Dougal's face blurred before my eyes, and I still asked, sobbing:

– For what?

He pulled me towards him, I buried myself in his shoulder, my palm ran over my back, soothingly, affectionately.

“Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t fall in love with a woman I’d never seen.” You are not Miss Blair. You don't match her looks. You can’t imagine the unbearable dissonance. What an annoying need to adjust and guess. Guess which assumptions are correct and which are not. That body is a distraction. Now you are real. Surprisingly correct.

– But I… can’t stay like this?

– And there’s no need. The puzzle is complete. The question has an answer, and it completely suits me.

I hugged him and asked him for some reason about something that had already become extremely clear:

– Is it true? And we… did we succeed? And all will be well?

“We won’t know until we survive the dawn and several hours after.” I'm sorry, I'm not used to… measuring my feelings with ephemeral definitions that cannot be touched and broken down into components.

“It’s nothing,” I said with conviction. – Is it true. I… I feel it. And you don't have to measure it at all.

– Let's see.

He froze, still hugging me. The night dragged on slowly. I didn’t want to talk, I didn’t want to do anything at all. And I didn’t want to ask Dougal how long his elixir would last. I was simply pouring magic into the illusion of the real me. Sounds strange. Sad. I didn't want Freya Sulliva? remained just an illusion. But… at least let it be like this. Better an illusion than nothing at all.

Whatever this dawn brought us, I wanted to meet it with myself. Not Charlotte. Dougal and I both deserve it.

–What will you be afraid of later? – he suddenly asked. – When all this is over.

I didn't have to think long.

– Charlotte's parents. That is, meetings with them. They are not my parents, I am not their daughter. All this… is dishonest! But something will have to be decided about this. I can't… like that.

– It wouldn't be fair if you lie. ?neither should know.

– Yes. But how will I tell them? How can you say this? I can't imagine.

– The truth is never better or worse. She just is. Nothing will change from the wording.

– Will you help me?

– Certainly.

I silently rested my forehead on his shoulder.

When the sky above the trees brightened, we, without saying a word, got up and went to the sea. The sand of the path, hot in the evening, now pleasantly cooled my bare feet. I just conjured up shorts and a sports T-shirt instead of a home shirt. The ones I ran in in the morning.

The park went right to the shore. The waves gently rolled onto the deserted beach. The ocean was smooth, pure blue, and above it was an equally clear sky. Only at the very horizon a narrow strip of clouds gleamed scarlet.

I shuddered when a voice sounded in my ear, which I had already forgotten to think about.

– Goodbye.

She squinted her eyes slightly. The ghost, barely visible, almost completely transparent now, the ghost of Charlotte hung nearby. And melted. And for the first time in all the time we knew each other, he seemed… happy?

“I don’t know, I can’t see your future from here, it’s just beginning from this dawn, but I can already leave.” It's all over. I'm sorry I couldn't be with you. But my intervention could have turned out to be the wrong thing. The man who knows the ways promised to show the right path. It’s no longer hard, it’s easy, you can get out. There are still things left for me to do. But you can finish them. The man who sees the invisible promised to help, to tell those who were dear to me --">