To my sister

- I think I can help you, - the man in the strict business suit closed the folder and leaned back in his chair, his palms resting on the desk. - I have studied your sister's case, a return is possible.

Suddenly Dasha's eyes filled with tears and she leaned forward:

- When?

- Now.

- So it's not a rumor and she can be saved? After all, forty days have not yet passed....

- No, you misunderstand me, - said the man calmly. - I don't raise the dead. Your sister cannot be brought back, but you can personally go back to the day before she died and stop blaming yourself.

- But how, Doctor? You said she can't be saved, she's going to die anyway.

- Yes, she will, - the man nodded. - But perhaps a little happier. And you're the one who can give her that sense of happiness and, as I said, you can rid yourself of that false sense of guilt.

Dasha brought a handkerchief to her eyes and quickly dabbed them.

- Tell me, Doctor, what should I do?

- I don't know, - the man said. - You must decide for yourself.

He got up from the desk and went to the closet to put away the file with the case of Dasha's younger sister, Lera, who had died a week ago of heart failure.

The office was small - "chamber-like", without frills, it didn't even have a window, which made the time inside seem as if it didn't exist, it was impossible to know if it was day or night.

There was a couch in the corner, behind a screen, and a sink next to it. Several sconces cast a soft, diffused light. A wall clock hung above the door, out of sight of the patients.

The man returned to his chair:

- So, any thoughts?

- Doctor, - Dasha looked at him pleadingly. - I really don't understand. Maybe you could at least give me an example. How does it usually happen? A recent case.

- Hmm, - thought the interviewer. - One case, you say... Well, okay. There was an elderly patient here before you who lost his daughter. She was seven years old. A late child. That day, he took her and a neighbour's girl to the beach for a swim. They had to wade across a river. He took them by the hands and led them across. The current was strong and his daughter's palm slipped from his hand. He couldn't do anything. The girl was swept away and pulled into the whirlpool. She drowned.

- Oh my Gosh, - Dasha covered her face with her hands. - Poor thing. And Dad? How did he get through it?

- Hard. Really hard. The loss of his only child, the guilt, the hatred of his family towards him. He didn't want to live. That's why he came here.

- But how could you help him? - Dasha whispered. - Stop him from taking the children to the beach?

- No, that's out of the question, - the man took a pencil from the desk, turned it around and put it back. - By the way, this is why I never send people on the day of the death of their relatives and friends. The temptation to interfere and change the course of events is too great.

- Then why did he want to come back? To see his daughter alive again?

- Perhaps. But there was another reason.

- What was it?

- His daughter had been asking for a puppy for a long time, but her parents refused - who would clean up after it, feed it, take it for walks. When I spoke to her father, it turned out that the most heartbreaking thing for him was that he had not fulfilled his daughter's wish, that he had not bought her a puppy. He felt that the girl had died unhappy and he wanted to rectify that at all costs. And I helped him to do that.

- Yes, I think I understand now, - Dasha put the handkerchief into her purse. - Do you help everyone like that?

- No, - the interviewer objected. - Not everyone. Do you want another example? OK. My patient's husband died - after he caught her with her lover, he went to the forest at night, got lost and froze to death - it was minus forty degrees.

- What a horror, - Dasha shivered. - And what did the woman want? Throw her lover out?

- If only, - the man grinned. - She was also tormented by remorse, but not for a secret relationship with another man, she just wanted her husband not to know about it - and die, so to speak, without suffering. But, you see, if her husband had not found out about his rival, he would not have left the house and would not have frozen. So, unfortunately, I could not help the widow.

- So that's why you study the personnel files of the dead before you send people back in time?

- That's right.

- Wait, if that father hadn't taken his daughter to the beach, would she still be alive?

The man looked at the clock behind Dasha's back and patiently explained:

- You see, Dasha, he couldn't not take her. He loved her too much. It was an accident. So no matter how much he wanted to, there was nothing he could do about it except buy the little girl a puppy. And let's stop there. It's time. You should go. Lera will wake up soon.

He led her to the couch and pulled something out of a closet that looked like a boxing helmet with sensors and gauges built into it.

- Put it on.

- Are you going to hypnotize me? - Dasha asked.

- No, it's a time machine.

- This? - Dasha looked incredulously at the helmet in her hands.

- Yes, - the man nodded. - Put it on, lie down on the couch and close your eyes.

Dasha obediently put the helmet on her head and lay down.

The doctor quickly made some manipulations with the sensors and then said:

- Destination N-sk, date - August twelfth, time - eight in the morning. The most important thing - do not try to warn your sister about the impending death, she must not know anything. Otherwise the session will end immediately and you will not have a second chance.

Lera passed away suddenly, as they say in such cases - nothing foreshadowed disaster.

She was young, in her thirties, and had no complaints about her health. As a child, however, she had suffered a severe case of pneumonia and was often ill with sore throats, one of which led to a complication of the heart, but that was a long time ago and since then the "ticker" had not failed her.

The sisters rarely saw each other, each had her own life. Their mother died young, their father never remarried, and their grandmother helped him raise her granddaughters.

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Lera married twice, but her relationships with men did not work out. She didn't want children, and she didn't have a steady job.

In short, her family considered her a "deadbeat" - unlike Dasha, who had a husband, a smart adult son, and a good job - she was the director of the local art school.

Sometimes Dasha felt guilty about her sister; it seemed to her that they could spend more time together, visit each other, celebrate birthdays as a family, travel, or just call each other once in a while.

But Dasha avoided Lera, she knew that if she met her she would complain about her life and ask for something, mostly money, which she had nothing to give back anyway.

She felt sorry for her sister, but at the same time she was angry about her lack of character - you can't live like this, you have to pull yourself together, overcome the lack of money and loneliness, do something about it. But Lera had given up on herself a long time ago, which was why the communication between the sisters was not good.

When Lera was gone, Dasha often thought that if she had known that her younger sister had such a short life ahead of her, she would have treated her more gently. In her mind, she replayed their last conversation, which had taken place shortly before Lera's death - her sister had caught a runny nose somewhere and asked her to buy medicine - on credit, of course.

But Dasha didn't have time - she and her family were going out of town, and instead of going to the pharmacy, she started berating her sister, saying how could you catch a cold in this heat, and advised her to boil potatoes - to inhale the hot steam. "I don't have any potatoes at home," Lera replied. "Well, have some tea with raspberries." "I don't have any raspberries either." "That's not my problem!" - Dasha hung up. After all, she wasn't a babysitter to cancel the picnic because of her. Lera would figure it out somehow, she wasn't a little girl.

In the evening, of course, she called her sister back, but Lera didn't answer - she was offended.

"She had less than a month to live then," Dasha calculated in her mind. - What an asshole I am!"

It would be good to rewind time, the picnic would have waited, they would have left a little later, and medicine was cheap, that's no reason to be greedy, considering the fact that Lera had a fever for a week. And I didn't visit her once! But she got better. Yeah, and two weeks later she died...

How much Dasha blamed herself for her insensitivity, for her indifference. She hadn't had time to help and protect her sister.

Someone had told her that there was a doctor in town - a parapsychologist or a hypnotherapist who seemed to be able to revive the dead - she didn't know the exact details, but she made an appointment, maybe Lera really could be revived - science doesn't stand still.

Dasha rang the doorbell. The door didn't open for a long time. Finally there was a rustling inside, and after a minute the lock clicked. Lera stood on the threshold, sleepy, shaggy, in stale, crumpled pajamas, squinting unhappily.

- You? - she said, surprisingly recognizing her sister in the dark. - Why are you so early? Is it something with dad?

- He's fine, don't worry, - Dasha went into the hall. - How are you?

- Fine, - Lera yawned. - What time is it?

- Nine. Are you hungry?

- Sure, but my fridge is empty. I'll get the advance in two days.

- Did you get a job? - Dasha asked, looking around the messy room.

- I'm just working for an Azerbaijani, selling watermelons. He pays me.

- Okay, I'll be right back, and you make the bed, and put your clothes in the washer, why is it throwing all over the apartment? And do the dishes, I'm sure there's a sink full.

- Oh, come on, - grumbled Lera. - I'll wash the cups if you want. Where are you going?

- To the store.

- Buy me some cigarettes. I have the last one.

- Still smoking? - Dasha looked at her sister sternly. - You said you quit.

- Come on, Dasha, why are you like this? Are you greedy? It's only a hundred rubles.

Dasha wanted to make a note to her sister, but then she remembered what day it was and why she was here, so she kept quiet.

At the supermarket she bought a full bag of groceries - fruit, eggs, flour, milk - Lera's house was always empty. Dasha assumed that the tea wasn't there either. She'd have to get some. And coffee. Lera loves coffee.

While Lera was in the bathtub washing and applying makeup, Dasha was in the kitchen.

- Oh, what smells so good? - her sister appeared in the doorway. - Pancakes? Yum-yum! Is it a holiday today? What are we celebrating?

- It's in your honor, - Dasha said. - Sit down, I'll take care of you. Do you want sour cream or jam?

- All at once! - Lera waved her hand. - I haven't had pancakes for ages. The last time at grandmother's house in the village. Is she still alive?

- She is. She'll be eighty-one in March. When did you call her?

- You know she doesn't talk to me, I'm a fool to her. What about Stas and Dima?

- Stas works all day, Dima starts eleventh grade, everything is fine.

Dasha watched Lera devour the hot pancakes, trying to read her face for signs of the impending end - and finding nothing strange or frightening.

- Ouch! - Lera grabbed her cheek.

- What's wrong? - Dasha asked in alarm. - A heart?

- What heart, - her sister replied. - My tooth hurts.

- When was the last time you went to the doctor?

- You mean a dentist? - Lera asked, still writhing in pain. - A long time ago. I can't get a free appointment.

- When was the last time you were at the clinic in general?

- When I got my health book.

- And what did the doctors tell you?

- What can they say? Healthy as a bull. Shit, should I rinse it with salt? - Lera pulled back her lip and touched the sore tooth with her finger. - It hurts.

- Get dressed, let's go! - Dasha ordered.

- Where are you going? - asked her sister in surprise.

- To the dentist to get a tooth fixed.

- I told you, I can't get a free appointment.

- We'll go to the one who charges.

- Where will I get the money? I'm broke.

- I know, I'll pay. Get dressed. And bring your bathing suit.

- What's this for? - Lera was suspicious.

- We're going to the beach later to sunbathe. You are so pale.

- What a beach! - Lera looked at her watch. - I have to be at work at ten.

- Your watermelons can wait, they're not going anywhere.

- I'll get fired if I don't show up. You always told me to think about my retirement.

- Will your Azerbaijani pay your pension? - Dasha snorted and thought to herself: "You won't have a pension, don't worry”.

But of course she didn't say it out loud.

- All right, - Lera shrugged. - But after that don't grumble at me that I don't work anymore.

- I won't. Well, how long do I have to wait for you? I'll call a taxi.

While her sister had her tooth drilled and filled, Dasha made plans for the day.

First, the beach - the one they used to go to as a family when they were children - with soft yellow sand, quiet backwaters, meadows of wild strawberries growing along the banks.

They were so happy there. And Mama was still alive. Let Lera be happy one last time - the weather is wonderful! Then I should take her to a boutique, buy an expensive dress and shoes, and go to a restaurant - really go for the gusto here!

And after that we can go to the water park. Although Dasha's sister was in her fourth decade, she was still a child at heart, and she looked enviously at the twisting water slides where children squealed with delight. When could she go there again? Never.

In the evening, when the sisters, excited and a little tired of impressions, returned home with a bottle of expensive champagne, Lera, taking off her shoes, looked carefully at Dasha:

- Tell me the truth, sister, what was it?

- Didn't you like it? - Dasha tried to evade the answer.

- Are you kidding? It was great. But I know you. Did you win a million in the lottery?

- Yeah, two, - Dasha put the bottle on the table. - I just wanted to spend the day with you. Don't I have that right? Do you have any glasses?

- I did somewhere, I'll look for them. - Lera took her sister's hand. - But really, Dasha, why this sudden generosity? Do you know something that I don't? Is something bad going to happen to me?

Dasha felt the lump in her throat, but she said in a deliberately cheerful voice:

- Lera, what are you talking about? Everything will be fine. I just wanted to celebrate. And one more thing, please forgive me for not coming to see you, for not bringing you any medicine that day. I feel like an asshole. Don't be mad, okay?

- I've already forgotten, - Lera nudged Dasha's shoulder with her forehead. - And you don't be mad at me either. I know I'm not the best sister in the world, I already owe you a lot, you're like a mother to me.

The sisters hugged each other.

- You know, - Lera sobbed. - I've been thinking, I really have no one closer to you. No one needs me, not my grandmother, not my father, not men, only you. Thank you, Dasha.

Dasha's eyes dimmed.

"Eight hours," it flashed through her mind. - Only eight hours, and then she would be gone, forever, and I would never see her again.

They both burst into tears, but within a minute they were laughing uncontrollably.

- Why are we crying like old women, - Lera hiccupped through her tears. - We're not at a funeral, are we, sister?

- That's what I mean, - Dasha echoed, wiping her eyes. - Hurry up and get the glasses.

The clock on the phone read ten o'clock at night. The champagne had been drunk, the red caviar eaten, and all that remained of the pineapple was a tuft and a scaly, tropical-smelling skin.

Dasha looked pitifully at her sister, who was relaxed and terribly content, and suddenly asked:

- Can I spend the night with you?

- Sure! - she generously allowed. - You could have told me right away that you had a fight with Stas. I wondered what had happened to you, but it turned out to be quite simple. But you, sister, don't worry, men are assholes, of course, but yours is different, you'll make up. Will you?

- Yeah, I will, - Dasha nodded and hugged Lera, thinking, "I'm going to miss you so much".

Then they lay in the dark for a long time, holding hands and remembering their childhood.

There were four hours left before her sister death.

Dasha will be gone by then.

Of course, Lera, feeling sick, didn't call an ambulance. She just went out into the yard to breathe - and there she was found on a bench on Friday morning, the thirteenth, completely alone.