I wake up from the sound of water flowing in the kitchen and the cheerful tunes of Laska. I love it when she's in a good mood. I turn my head - Andryushka is not around. So he's already up. Recently, we have a rule: if mom is sleeping, then you can’t wake her up. We introduced it after I was fiddling with new projects, barely resting, and nearly exhausted myself. It is a pity that Andrei has no grandparents. Just me, Laska and Dimka. Well, and Nelly with Lenar. Our poor prankster, who is always on the chaise or in my arms. In some ways Ryabov is, of course, right. Andrew is the real Mowgli. But you have to spin somehow. Here we are trying.

After checking my notifications on my phone, I get out of bed and head to the kitchen. I stop in the doorway and listen to my favorite voices, pulling my hair into a high ponytail:

Did you see his face when you said you were going to beat him now? asks Laska, turning to Andrey. Do you think that all conflicts can be resolved only with fists? She turns to the stove, stirring the porridge with a spoon.

“Yes,” the son says gloomily and reaches for the scar on his forehead.

When he's nervous, he always touches him. Or when he cheats. I wonder if this habit will disappear with age? Or will it remain a distinctive feature by which it will be possible to understand that Andrei is nervous or cunning?

- Why? Who teaches you this?

“I don’t like him,” the son mutters.

I'm smiling. A smile is my unconditioned reflex to his reactions and facial expressions.

“And that’s why you can beat him with a shovel and a bucket?” Do you really think it's okay? Laska starts up, and I roll my eyes and sigh.

Nastya again steps on the same rake. Well, why is she teaching Andrei? And in such a preachy tone. Let him sing merry songs. He likes it better. Actually, like me.

“What if it were like that with you?” Just a little, and immediately in the nose would get? Would you like it?

- Not. The son rubs his forehead harder.

- I will leave soon. For a long time. And you look after your mother and behave yourself. Deal? And don't hurt anyone else. You are welcome.

Andrei sits frowning in an armchair and looks out the window. Such an adult when he frowns.

- Not. He gets even gloomier, and I smile broadly. - Didn't agree.

So he resembles the character of one person with whom I had a relationship in the past and whom for some reason I remember very often lately ... Or I draw such parallels, because I imagine that Andrei is the son of Bagdasarov, I don’t know.

- Good morning. - I go up to the little troublemaker and kiss him on the black top of his head.

“Hi, mom,” Andrey immediately responds and stretches out his arms to hug. “But Laska offended me,” she whispers softly in her ear. “She said if I fight, she will take me to the trash,” he says, deliberately louder so that Weasel can hear.

- What? - Nastya puts her spoon on a plate with a roar and squints in displeasure.

“Really, mom. I swear. Shall we punish her for this? Put Nastya in a corner.

I turn away because I can't help but smile.

- Alyona! Laska says sternly, turning off the stove. - Feed him yourself. Everything! I'm in the office. He's on you.

— Damn... I have an important meeting today. - The fun immediately disappears.

- Take it with you. On the way, take a look in the trash can. Yes, Andryush?

“No,” the scoundrel frowns again.

I weak-willedly think of doing the same as Lask a couple of minutes ago: to scold Andrey for his behavior and sneakiness, but then I pull myself together. OK. There is a fallback. Tanya. While I'm at the leadership of the Make a Wish charity foundation, she will walk with Andrey on the street. To the first trash can.

I notice how Nastya's face turns purple when she passes by the contented hooligan, who again won a victory over Laska. God, well, in whom is he so harmful and stubborn? Is it really genes? If I drive something into my head, then everything is useless. There is nothing you can do to get these thoughts out. Although Dimka is the same. And my father had character. Breed.

After breakfast, I return to the bedroom and get ready for a meeting, dress Andrei, and we go downstairs. He laments that he wants to stay at home or walk on the playground. You have to spend another ten minutes persuading. Fortunately, they are successful. Then I call Ulyanova and ask her to look after the prankster while I myself go with our business plan to a certain Dina Sergeevna.

It seemed to be a formality. I went around so many such offices in my time, but all the way to the center I feel strange: my heart aches, I have no strength and the anxious foreboding that stubbornly grows in my chest does not leave, although I try to tune in to a favorable outcome.

There are too many thoughts and doubts in my head from somewhere in an instant. What if I don't pull that many sections at once? But what about vacation? Will Ulyanova cope without me? Can we justify the expectations of such a serious organization that has extended a helping hand to us? But what if a curator is assigned and he will demand a report on every penny spent? God... These thoughts are like a swarm of bees. They circle and hum non-stop. They make it even worse.

I can't help flying on vacation: I promised my child a trip to the sea! We've been postponing it for months. Either Andrei's injuries, or mine. If we don’t cross paths with Dimka now, when will we see each other later? He has a new contract in Korea for two years. I doubt that Dima will then make time for a trip to Moscow.It's easy for me to remain calm. I decided a long time ago that I can cope with everything alone, and Andrei and I have a great life together. Yes, and life has taught harsh lessons more than once that I can only rely on myself. But sometimes you want to lean on someone's strong and strong shoulder. Highly!

“Andryushka,” I turn to my son, having parked the car in front of the building. - Behave yourself. Listen to Tanya. Okay? - I nod in the direction of Ulyanova, who is walking towards us.

- Can I come with you, Mom? Andrew asks.

- Next time. I'm going to discuss important issues, you will be bored.

Andrey sniffles and fiddles with the plush dog in his hands. Probably Dean. Yesterday he tore off Stas's ear and forbade me and Laska to sew it back on. Little hooligan!

After handing Harry over to Ulyanova, I head towards the building. At the reception, they meet with a smile and ask to wait, saying that Dina Sergeevna is now people. I cautiously look around and do not know what to do with my hands trembling with excitement. Eyes linger on the sign near the door of the office, and the ground leaves from under his feet. The mouth becomes dry, and the pulse begins to beat in a frantic rhythm.

I take my phone out of my bag and google a familiar name. One line, two, three... I sit down on the couch, suppressing the urge to run away from this place. The usual, simple coincidence, but I don’t want to believe it! Why, out of many organizations, does Ryabov have connections in this particular one? Again I look at the plate, on which it is written in a beautiful font: "Bagdasarova Dina Sergeevna." This woman is the director and founder of the make-a-wish charity foundation, Janis's mother. And his older brother is on the board of trustees. Amazing. Just excellent…

It is impossible to inhale, however, as well as to leave. The office door opens and two young men come out. I know both. These are the sons of Dina Sergeevna. Eric and Janis. A lump swells in my chest, and it gets dark before my eyes. I want to turn into a small dot so that they don’t notice. I lower my head and study the floor, doing my best to pretend that I'm not here. Maybe it will blow over and no one will really notice me? I will tell Dina Sergeevna that we are abandoning the sections and I will look for other solutions on how to put them on their feet. Something will think.

“Galina Vladimirovna,” says Eric and puts a stack of documents on the table, “tomorrow send these papers on YugMed to my wife. While I'm on a business trip, she will deal with this issue. “Send these to Janis,” he points to another. “From now on, he will oversee these projects.

- All right, - the assistant responds and then turns to me: - Alena Vladimirovna, you can go to the office. Dina Sergeevna was released.

Nausea rises in my throat as I raise my head and meet Janis's eyes. Controlling emotions is very difficult. The memories of our recent meeting are still fresh in my mind. The lungs seemed to be filled with broken glass, after a good shake.

I didn’t pay attention last time, but now I clearly see that Janis has lost a few kilograms and has become drier. He still has the same broad shoulders and powerful arms. High growth. Externally, Bagdasarov is the same. But the look ... Completely alien. Pressing, cold. Goosebumps come from him.

I get up on wadded legs from the couch and go to the door, convincing myself that nothing terrible has happened. There are stupid misunderstandings. And now one of them happened.