[transl.: “I’ll give the power to dare to create and to be able
to the human spirit that roams the earth….”
INNER SEA, Maximilian Voloshin]
After midnight I was driving home from a nightclub in a taxi. The driver was a man aged; he drove me to the house where I live. Taking the purse from the bag, I paid him. I couldn’t get out of the car – the door handle did not obey me. The taxi driver came out himself opened for me the door of the car and helped out. Then he was gone; I was left alone in the yard of my house.
The fresh air acted sobering after drinking at the club. It was quiet; the moon softly lit the yard. I raised my head to the sky to look at it and remembered that once in my childhood my dad told me in this yard how to recognize the old and the young moon,
“If you mentally substitute the stick on the crescent moon on the left, and it will look like the letter P (Russian: ‘Paнняя’); it means that the moon is young. But if the month is turned in the other direction and resembles the letter C, the moon is old (Russian: ‘Cтapaя’).”
This time it was neither young nor old – just over half of the disc.
Warm “lump” moved inside me when I thought about my childhood. I went to my entrance; fingers habitually typed the correct code; the door opened. To get to my apartment, I have to go through 18 steps up the stairs. Many times I came all this way.
Standing before my apartment door, I opened the bag to get keys. There was not them; I began to search the pockets and also not found. Where could I lose them? Did keys drop out of my bag when I was in the club or when I was paying the taxi driver, or?
Suddenly I felt someone’s presence behind my back. Something had been put in a pocket of my jacket. The cold chills ran down my back. I put my hand in my pocket and found keys.
“You’re looking for this, isn’t it?”
The voice was very familiar! Intoxication has passed completely. I turned around abruptly. The light from the lamp in the stairwell was dim, but I seemed that behind me was standing… I! The image disappeared as if dissolved. I looked around and saw no one. It was quiet, no sound. Maybe I just imagined it….
I quickly opened the door with the keys that were in my hand and entered the apartment. In the dark hallway I took off my jacket, shoes put slippers on and went into the room. There I turned on the light.
The clock on the wall showed about four am.
“Wow! I again not good sleep, in the morning at 9 I have to be at work.” a thought flashed my head, “Urgently bathe and sleep!”
Standing under a shower in the bathroom, I relaxed and began to fall asleep. Very sleepy after a shower, I went to my room, put my phone on charge and went to bed.
Chapter 2. Sleep: Guest
I wandered through narrow streets of an unfamiliar city and wanted to find someone.
“Who are you looking for, not me?”
The girl appeared in front of me from nowhere. She looked just like me. I was very surprised.
“You …? Who are you?” I asked.
She smiled.
“I helped you find your keys; do you remember?” she’s gone from a direct answer.
“I remember. But who are you?”
“Nearby is a cafe. Let’s go there to talk and drink coffee, do you mind?” she pointed where to go.
Looking in the direction of her hand, I saw a sign “Near you.” I nodded in agreement, and we went to it. Once inside the cafe, we suddenly appeared in my kitchen.
“Make coffee for us, please. As you like – a teaspoon of ground coffee, a pinch of cocoa powder, a few grains of salt on one cup…”
“How do you know?” I asked without giving her finish.
She smiled again. The kitchen lighting was bright. I looked at my guest carefully. She and I looked alike. Her voice also sounded like mine, and to hear it was unusual.
It was so weird to look at me from the side. My guest like me was thin, of medium height. She wore my favorite light blue skinny jeans, gray-blue shirt, loose sweater, legs white sneakers. Her hair too was as I have thick long straight ash blonde. I usually comb it back, collecting high on the back of the head into a ponytail and curl the end of my hair with a curling iron or a hair dryer. She did the same.
In my childhood, I loved to look at myself in the mirror, imagining that I was a princess. At that time my mom dressed me in clothes “for girls” and taught me to keep good posture. Dresses in my wardrobe were in the first place only for as long as I didn’t go to school. Then I started wearing jeans and shirt; they became my favorite outfit. After graduating from school, I also prefer to wear them. In early May, a month ago, I turned 21.
My face has an elongated shape as they say “thoroughbred” with high open forehead and prominent cheekbones. The skin of the face is pale matte. Dark blonde eyebrows curved arc. I have a barely visible scar above my right eyebrow. In my childhood, when I played in my room, I hit my head on the heater and cut my forehead on the sharp edge. Then I was taken to the hospital to sew up the wound. She healed quickly, but a small trace left, as a reminder.
Most of all on my face I like my large gray eyes with beautiful almond shaped slit. I got them from my mom. My lips are like the lips of my dad, they are slightly plump sensual, but at the same time have a clear outline. My nose is unremarkable a straight form. Without a doubt, my guest was my copy. She even had a scar over her right eyebrow.
I made coffee and poured it into two cups, then opened the fridge, took out and handed her a pack with cream. She poured cream into the cup gently in a spiral. Usually, so do I, it’s my favorite coffee ritual when I’m home. Who’s my guest?
“Have you ever met a guy with a yellow bag?” she asked suddenly.
“I do not remember, and what?”
“He’ll come to the shop where you work.”
“You know, I never dreamed about such a guy. It’s a fucking joke. Can you finally tell me who you are?”
The image of the kitchen became blurred, and soon all disappeared along with my guest.
Chapter 3. Meeting: Arthur
At 8 in the morning, the alarm rang on the phone. I didn’t want to wake up, put my head under the covers and tried to continue to sleep. “You’ll be late!” suddenly a thought in my head arose. I woke up and sat up in bed. The dream has passed, giving way to the reality of the day. It was time to get up and get ready for work.
The day promised to be sunny. I got up, made my bed, threw on a robe and opened the window, enjoying the first rays of the sun and fresh air. Turning from the window, I looked at a picture that hung above my bed on the wall. It is one of my drawings. I painted a castle on a lake, and mom and dad as they were walking together near the castle.
My parents wanted me to after graduation went to study in St. Petersburg Academy of arts (Institute of painting, sculpture, and architecture named after I. E. Repin). I wanted the same, but two years ago, mom and dad died in a car accident. Instead of entrance exams, I buried mom and dad.
The photo is on my desk: my parents and I are standing in front of the castle from my drawing. We are smiling and happy. It was our last joint trip. There we were together. I drew mom and dad in the background of the castle. I showed them in the clothing which people