We will meet again - Алекс Бранд

to become someone she had never been before. And from there — farther, farther … She wants to be in time in these short quick minutes, until sunset, until darkness fell, until … The far past arose in front of her flashing sight. It started like a foggy film strip… Places and sounds appeared here and there. Pictures of far past. Faces. Names. Events. She remembers someone and she only recognizes someone by sight. The years did not spare her memory, but a solution was found — she gave everyone a nickname, simple, naive, and sometimes even funny. In fact, the name is just a print, and if the memory weakens, it can disappear forever pulling the person. Now it’s easy for her: here’s the Master, here’s Teddy. Bird. Just Friend. There are a lot of them … Everybody left a long time ago, but now, when she stands near the window, when she calls — they have returned, even for a brief moment, they have come to her. And only herself she doesn't call by no means. Not a nickname, although there were a lot of them, not by name. She does not seem to want to see herself, either in the mirror or in memory. She does not want … As all the past years she wanted to leave, to leave as far as possible from her past, too vain, bright, brilliant. From the past that betrayed her and she did not forgive. Once she even said that she despised herself — the old one … The family, the children, the house — a long, quiet life, years and years of quiet happiness. So she decided, so she wanted. So it was. But why now, when a strange power suddenly lifted her out of bed, led her to the window — she is restless, she sees what she once forbade herself to see? She does not know. She grinned and whispered — I am just drifting. So she once told with youthful naivety to one of the journalists who besieged her. I am drifting. Let be. Now — she can. Now — all bans off. In the silence of the room the sound of pouring water was heard again. The hand that brought to the mouth the second glass almost did not tremble. How good … Cool water is like a spring that has irrigated a dry, cracked ground. Here a timid narrow stream ran along it, so it gained strength and depth, spreading, stubbornly making its way into the unyielding dense soil. It seems that it is about to dry up, calm down, give up and disappear without a trace in the barren sand. Not. The blazing disk of the sun touched the line of a distant horizon, the colors of sunset flashed scarlet, silver, pink, hit the wide-open eyes. She wanted to shut them down for a moment — too brightly, as if she had been spotlighted again. At first, quiet music was heard, an orchestra began to play somewhere, she listened involuntarily to a familiar tune. Mozart. How strange, have never played orchestras on our street. But out of doubt and extraneous thoughts, it's so beautiful! How long time she had not heard these magical modulations … More, more! Running out was a trickle foamed by a wave and rushed to a gallop, as if she saddled it. The tight gust of wind hit in the face scattering her hair. Right in front of the window appeared a huge white slowly swaying cloth. The heart sank with a dull pain — this is a projection screen … It is like the only spectator in the hall that no one is visible to anyone, standing frozen in expectation. Now … Now … She didn't want to remember? Wanted to move away from the past? An unknown force brought him right here, look! She heard the name, her name, pronounced in a chorus of thousands of voices, male, female, children's … She raised her withered hand in protest, no, no! It's not me! My name is … Her whisper was drowned out by music, a familiar splash screen appeared. And…

Pictures, scenes, moments … She remembered a lot, she did not want to remember much, and she simply forgot a lot. Her life, a long, very long life, compressed to quick seconds, as if caught by a hidden camera, rushed in front of her.

Here she is, quite a girl, shyly stands in front of a microphone, squeezing the stand with both hands, and next to … She wrinkled her forehead, trying to remember his name. She was captured by this magical act. What's his name? He left a long time ago, like the rest. She is the last one. Name … Do not remember, but … Nickname. Suddenly she smiled — it's Teddy! On the first Christmas of their collaboration, he brought a bunch of plush toys, a wooden horse. She was … Fourteen, fifteen? Or ten? Mom goggled at these gifts, and he held out a huge bear and laughed, shrugging his shoulders.

— I still do not know how to behave with her. But she is a child? Hold on!

— And what should I do with the horse?

— Put your daughter on it someday!

When they laughed, he knew how to amuse the whole country … And then … What then? Teddy has disappeared. A series of fast pictures, sometimes merging into a foggy strip. Someone looks out of it — and then disappears. How rapidly everything changed then, the time began to gallop, leaving, leaving … And childhood went with it, then youth. Glory, recognition, money. The first million at eighteen, nine-room mansion, car. And she loved to sing, read, run a race with a barking Tippy, to walk unrecognized on the boulevard, eating spaghetti and fried potatoes with ketchup, going to the movies. Yes, go to the cinema. Strange? Perhaps … Time passed. Her face, lit by the flashing,