I woke up in pain. Somehow I got up and went to the bathroom. Bright light after the darkness of the bedroom hurts the eyes. Cold drops of water saved me from sleepy dope, but not from shooting pain through my left side. Inside, panic gradually grows, filling all thoughts. Something went wrong, something went wrong with my body. I must call my husband. As no time he went on a business trip. I take a step towards the door and fall to my knees, hitting my head on the washing machine. Inside me it’s as if the barbed wire is tied up. Breathing becomes hard.

More recently, my husband and I were happy with the coveted two stripes, which finally showed a pregnancy test. Rejoiced, kissed, laughed. And I kept thinking that my cherished dream would soon come true - to give birth to a son and name him ...

“Don't cry, durynda,” I clearly hear a voice from a distant past. Everything is spinning before my eyes, and I am mentally transferred at a time when I was sixteen years old.

In the open sash of the window there was a characteristic tarakhteniye of the motor of the driving motorcycle. I could not cope with the temptation and looked through the glass surface, previously hiding behind a curtain so that no one could catch me peeping. The motorcycle stopped, a tall, broad-shouldered guy with jeans and a leather jacket pulled from the seat of tears. He has a noticeable black and red helmet on his head, which he took off with one unhurried movement. Lyoshka In the chest and lower abdomen something hot, painful, sweetly ached. How beautiful he is. The dark thick hair on the temples is cut short, and the top length is longer, but still not enough to curl into curls. Why did nature award him such hair? On such thick dark chestnut with a small reddish curls, many girls dream. Lyoshka shook his head, straightening his slightly worn hair, and led his broad shoulders. It seemed to me, or he looked out the window, behind the curtain of which I hide? Involuntarily even more pressed into the wall. I can not see, should not be seen! I corrected something there on my iron horse and slowly walked into the neighboring courtyard. These leisurely, filled with beautiful masculine grace of movement made me freeze, and then my heart would pound.

I knew Lyoshka always, from the very birth. He is our neighbor and friend of my brother. More recently, it was a freckled, red-haired, slightly fat boy, who was all laughed at. "Glasses" and "plump", so teased brother and Lyoshka guys on the street. I don’t even know when everything has changed ... Now it seems that this happened unexpectedly and suddenly. At one point I looked at him with very different eyes ... as if learning for the first time to look. No, of course, it was not quite so. It took a lot of time before I understood why in his presence my heart begins to beat unevenly, why something shrinks in my stomach, causing a hot spasm, why my hands are shaking, why it seems that I can't breathe enough. Lyoshka has grown up, childish fullness has passed, now he is a tall, broad-shouldered, handsome man, according to which half the school in which I study dries. But why only half? Almost all the girls, with the exception of the very little ones, dream of meeting with Borovka Lyoshka. Now nothing reminds us of the former ugly red-haired boy, only the cannabis can, who adorn rare dots not only on his face, but also on his shoulders and back. Surprisingly, even the cannabis do not spoil it, but only give some boyish enthusiasm and cheerfulness. However, Lyoshka no longer appears at school; he has already completed two university courses. And my brother - three. Next year I also have to enroll in a higher education institution and, if lucky, I will soon finally get out of our stupid village to a big city with great opportunities. Where to apply, I have long been determined.Although a little earlier, before when everything changed, as most girls dreamed of becoming an actress, well, or in extreme cases, a singer. I have a certain talent in this area, I can pretend coolly. Now I have one dream, to which I persistently strive, reading for this a bunch of different books on biology and anatomy - to go to medical. And not at all because he is obsessed with the noble idea of ​​saving people, fighting against disease and death. To be honest - I am terribly afraid of blood and always shut my eyes when I see that someone has hurt himself. And if, God forbid, I hurt myself, I almost always faint, I can't stand the sight of my own blood. The fact is that Lyoshka studies the doctor. And this is a sufficient reason for me to catch fire with the idea of ​​becoming a doctor.

Curious looking at herself in the mirror. Not a freak of course, but there is nothing particularly beautiful. Too black, wide nose, forehead too high, imperfect skin, triangular face. But I would like to have wide relief cheekbones, like Demi Moore, for example. The only thing I like about myself is large almond-shaped eyes. The color of the iris is quite interesting. There are rays of green, yellow and brown. Of course, it would be better to be the owner of beautiful and bright, like field cornflowers, blue eyes, or, as in the last novel, which she read, - violet. But this is only fiction, in life such eyes are very rare, and even violet, in my opinion, generally from the realm of fantasy. Lips, if you look closely, perhaps, are also good, for me, so too big and not very clearly expressed, but the boys like it - plump lips with a bow. If you strain the muscles of the face, the nose, it seems, is not so wide, it appears more structural. Yes, that's better! Although I have another miracle cure. The secret weapon of all women is cosmetics. My brother gave me a whole little chest for his birthday. What is there just not: the shadows of different colors and structures, blush, pencils and eyeliner, a variety of tubes of lipstick, powder, mascara and a lot of other things "necessary" for every young girl things. I have been experimenting for a long time and a lot - I put on make-up, I washed myself, then I repeated everything again, and so on several times a day. Now I already know what colors go to my dark skin. How to bring eyes, so that they seem even more and more expressive, how you can give greater relief to the lips, and even how to visually slightly narrow the nose.

And now she has got the cherished little chest, again beginning to cast magic over her face. But I am very much going to be made up. From the face leaves the usual and childish. I become mysterious, almost oriental, almost beautiful. I add clothes to make-up. I have a slim new denim mini skirt and a bright red top, tight chest. I look again and again into the mirror-like surface. I feel a whole range of conflicting emotions. I am now very much like those beauties from magazines and films that boys are staring at and are envied by girls, even though I do not have wide, prominent cheekbones and blue eyes. Only here I am so used to being constantly in jeans, in winter and summer, in the afternoon and in the evening, that I was dressed up, sexually dressed, and I feel out of place. A coward. I'm afraid to be beautiful, I'm afraid to be different. Sometimes I want to put on black high-heeled sandals, which I for some reason persuaded to buy my mother. Walk in them, proudly holding his head, through the streets of our seedy village. I want to gain courage and show everyone around, and above all to him, that “Durynda”, as he calls me, has become a beautiful swan, almost a beauty.

Still, she dragged her black sandals on a high heel. Put on. I defile back and forth in front of a mirror, trying to “carry myself” smoothly and confidently, trying to muster the courage to finally throw off such a convenient and familiar “frog skin”.

Startled, a knock on the door was unexpected. Stepped in a hurry awkwardly, sprained foot. Screamed.

- Marin, open up!

Damn, damn, damn! Lyoshka! What he ...