Darinka

The midday sun generously bathed the beach, turning the silvery surface of the water into a sparkling carpet. A narrow stream, surrounded by dense thickets of reeds, swayed lazily in the wind. Near the shore, standing barefoot on the hot, clay earth, Darinka watched the swimmers with a faint, almost mocking smile. Her gaze kept drifting to the heavens, as if hoping to find something there. Two tight braids, gleaming with a coppery shine, cascaded down her thin back, and faint pale lines from her sundress straps remained on her sun-tanned skin.

— What’re you standin’ there for, like you’ve never seen water before? — shouted Justyna, a neighbor from the bank, her laughter ringing out clear and genuine. — Scared it’s too cold? Or you up to your tricks again?

"Ah, I’m afraid this will never end," thought the former tycoon Jeffrey Hanson irritably, now transformed into Darinka Wróblewska, a local Polish village girl with braids, always wearing a sundress and speaking a language that nearly made his teeth ache.

— I ain’t scared o’ nothin’! — Darinka snapped back, spitting out her frustration at Justyna’s sharp remarks. Her own voice grated on Jeffrey’s nerves—a high-pitched tone, dripping with a thick village accent that even locals found amusing. Worst of all, he couldn’t control how the words tumbled out, no matter how hard he tried.

Taking a deep breath, she glanced at the sky again, hoping to catch sight of a saucer or at least some fleeting sign of salvation. But there was nothing—just clouds drifting by and the buzz of a fly circling nearby.

The memories surged back, as sudden as always. That day, when his life fell apart, felt like a crazy dream, yet far too vivid to ignore. Jeffrey… back then, he had still been Jeffrey—rich, arrogant, untouchable. A conference room, luxurious floor-to-ceiling windows, business partners hanging on his every word. He’d gone to the rooftop with his coffee for a smoke, and that was it. The next thing he remembered was a blinding light, a strange dome where gravity seemed to vanish, and beings standing before him—beings unlike anything from Earth. Smooth and fluid, as if made of liquid metal, with glowing veins running through them.

He hadn’t even managed to scream.

Then came the shock. He woke up, barely able to stand, in the middle of a shabby house, its kitchen reeking of dampness and potatoes. A wooden ladle was clutched in his hand, and before him stood a stout woman in an apron, clearly annoyed.

— Darinka, daydreamin’ again? Soup’s not gonna cook itself! — she snapped.

Jeffrey had rushed to a mirror and seen… that face. Young, with red braids, freckles, and eyes too big for its narrow frame. He’d screamed, called for help, tried to explain, but the sounds that came out were a girl’s high-pitched voice speaking a language he’d never even known.

It was all real.

…

— Hey, Darinka! — Justyna’s voice snapped him out of his memories. She was already in the water, sitting in the shallows and splashing around like a child. — Stop daydreamin’ and get over here! We came to have fun, not stand around like a fool!

— Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’, — grumbled Darinka, dragging her feet toward the water. Her long braids slid across her back again, almost mockingly. Every morning, she had to braid them herself, just to avoid another lecture from “Mama,” like in those first few miserable days. The woman, whom everyone called Pani Wróblewska, had taken it upon herself to raise her daughter—who had suddenly started acting “strangely”—with unshakable conviction. She was strict, grouchy, but in her own way, caring. Jeffrey could still hear her voice in his head, nagging him to “behave like a proper young lady” or warning that “no one’s gonna want you otherwise.”

— Oh, look who’s comin’, — Justyna said with a sly squint, pointing somewhere behind her.

Darinka turned, and her insides clenched. Janek, the neighbor boy, was heading their way. He was one of those who had taken a serious interest in her. Considered a "catch" around these parts, he had a friendly face and big, strong hands but carried himself with an arrogance that set Jeffrey’s teeth on edge. God, please don’t let him start again, Jeffrey silently pleaded, gathering Darinka’s braids into a low bun at the nape of her neck to keep them from getting wet. It wasn’t the most comfortable style, but it beat dealing with wet braids drying all evening.

As Darinka fussed with her hair, her chest, barely covered by the thin material of her swimsuit, bounced noticeably. It was a detail that threw Jeffrey off every time, and, out of habit, he glanced down at the now-familiar yet still alien sight. That’s when he caught Janek’s gaze—staring unabashedly at her chest. Heat rushed to Darinka’s cheeks.

— What? — she snapped, feeling utterly exposed under his stare. As if it wasn’t bad enough that she had finally mustered the courage to show up in a swimsuit today, hoping for a brief reprieve from braids, sundresses, and endless housework. Now Janek had to add his shameless ogling to the mix.

— Nothin’, — he drawled, clearly in no hurry to hide his grin. — Just thinkin’… Is this really the same Darinka who’s always in a headscarf with dirt on her hands from peelin’ potatoes? You’re lookin’… different today. Dunno, maybe even prettier than usual. Gonna take a dip?

"Prettier than usual?! What the hell kinda compliment is that?" Jeffrey seethed internally. Outrage boiled up inside, but instead of the sharp, masculine retort he longed to shout, a wounded, girlish response slipped out:

— Janek, quit it! — Her voice cracked, and the tone made her stomach twist. It sounded almost flirty. No, no, no! Not that!

Justyna, who had crept closer without Darinka noticing, giggled and whispered just loud enough for her to hear, but not Janek:

— Hey, if ya don’t want him, you can hand him over to me, huh? You’ve been stringin’ him along for months anyway. Actin’ all funny lately. What’re ya turnin’ your nose up for?

Inside, Jeffrey felt fury bubbling over. 'Turnin’ my nose up? Funny?! I’ve had enough of all this “future husband” nonsense! How he was even surviving this madhouse was beyond him, and now this?

— Take him! Right now! — Darinka suddenly yelled, her voice louder than she’d intended. Her own tone made her cringe. Janek froze, eyebrows shooting up as if unsure whether to be offended, and Justyna burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand.

— Well, ain’t you somethin’, Darinka! — she managed between gasps of laughter. — I was jokin’, and here you are auctionin’ him off like he’s cattle at the fair. Janek, ya not mad, are ya?

— Nah, y’all girls, always chatterin’ ’bout somethin’ or other, — Janek muttered lazily, shaking his head with a slow grin. He plopped himself down on a rock near the shore, stretching his legs toward the water.

Darinka snorted, feeling a mix of relief and irritation. Jeffrey, back when he was a millionaire, had always looked down on people like Janek—workers, service staff, people who never got within arm’s reach of his world. And if they did, they spoke with deference, their eyes always measuring his status. Yet here was Janek, sprawled on a rock like he owned the place, exuding smug indifference. “Y’all girls...” The phrase echoed in Jeffrey’s mind like a taunt.

Unable to hold back, Darinka bent down, grabbed a small stone, and flung it toward him without much aim. It landed with a dull thud at his feet, kicking up a small, dramatic puff of dust.

— Darinka, what’re you doin’?! — Justyna squealed, throwing her head back in laughter. — Janek, run for your life before she gets ya for real!

Janek slowly raised his eyes, squinting at Darinka. His grin vanished, replaced by a feigned seriousness as he said:

— Well, that’s it, Wróblewska. You asked for it. — Standing up, he began unbuttoning his shirt.

— What’re you plannin’ now? — Darinka called out, backing toward the water. But it was too late. Stripped down to his pants, Janek leapt toward her with surprising agility.

— Janek! — she shrieked, realizing this wasn’t going to end well. Spinning around, she forgot all about her braids, her wet swimsuit, and everything else. With a loud splash, she dove into the water.

She surfaced several meters from the shore, sputtering and hastily smoothing her disheveled braids. But Janek was closer than she’d expected. Just a few strong strokes, and he was almost upon her.

— Well, that’s it, Darinka. You brought this on yourself! — he hollered, grinning wide.

— Get lost, Janek! — she yelled, splashing water at him. But he dodged easily, diving beneath the surface and reappearing right behind her.

Darinka yelped as he grabbed her waist, nearly dragging her under. She flailed her arms wildly, her breath catching in her throat.

— Hey! Let go of me, ya darn fool! — she hissed, her heart pounding in her chest.

— What’d you think? You can throw rocks at me, and I’ll just let it slide? — His voice was too close. Too confident. Too shameless.

With all her strength, Darinka twisted free, paddling toward the shallows. Finally, her feet found the bottom, and she stood, panting, in water that barely reached her knees. But Janek was still there, grinning like a cat that had cornered its prey.

Justyna, watching from the shore, was doubled over with laughter, waving her arms:

— What kinda feller?! — Darinka yelled, tryin’ her best to keep some distance from Janek, who didn’t look like he was fixin’ to back off anytime soon.

Inside, Jeffrey was near about to explode with outrage. A feller? A pair? Good Lord, he was a successful businessman, accustomed to elegant, sophisticated women, and now they were pushing him into the arms of this rural brute? And all of this while stuck in the body of some poor village girl with braids and a ridiculous accent!

— Now, Darinka, don’t go gettin’ all riled up, — Janek drawled, a bit more peaceable now, probably noticing how her face had turned red not just from embarrassment, but from clear anger too. — I was just kiddin’. Why’re ya so worked up?

— I swear, if I could just…! — she started, then trailed off, realizing she was about to say something that would just make everyone call her "odd" again. Instead, she spun around sharply and stomped off toward the shallows.

The water dripped from her heavy braids, making them cling to her back, and inside, she was seething. Two months in this hell—two long, humiliating months. In that time, she—or rather he, Jeffrey—had grown used to endless chores, the mocking laughter of the village girls, and even these damned braids that had to be redone every day. He’d even adjusted, to some extent, to this strange, foreign body. But the thought of going back never left his mind.

Every evening, after the day’s work was done, Darinka would stare out the window at the stars, hoping the aliens would change their minds, realize their mistake, and set everything right. But the days passed, and nothing changed. The real Darinka, apparently enjoying life in his body, had stopped sending long, awkward messages in halting English. Her last reply had been short and cutting: “I’ve adapted. Maybe you should too. Life is strange like that.”

— Life is strange, — Darinka muttered in what now felt like an unfamiliar English, carefully wringing out her heavy braids. Her thick accent, steeped in the local dialect, made the words sound even more ridiculous.

Justyna, standing nearby, burst into laughter again, clutching her stomach:

— Hey, Darinka! What, your English teacher bite ya, or somethin’? Or are ya tryin’ to act all fancy now? That was somethin’ else!

Darinka whirled around, her face darkening with annoyance. Her eyes flashed with frustration, but she couldn’t think of a sharp comeback. Instead, she turned back to the water, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks again.

“To hell with all of this,” she thought through clenched teeth, moving away from Justyna. “Life really is strange.”