Spring was beginning to swell when Gela and Driek set out on an outing to the banks of the river Aa. It was about a two hours’ walk out of Loesbruch and through Dinthre, but in such good company it felt as though it had taken all of five minutes to get there. Gela carried a small bag filled with bread and cheese, while Driek carried an old, worn blanket. 

Upon their arrival, Driek spread the blanket out in a meadow by the river bank, over grass and spring flowers, motioning for Gela to sit down. And sit down, she did. With glee, she unpacked the food, tore the loaf in two and handed the biggest half to Driek.

“For me?” Driek asked, sitting down beside Gela.

Gela nodded, already chewing on a mouthful of bread. She swallowed. “Father says the biggest people have the biggest appetite”.

Driek chortled. “But the smallest need the most to grow,” he teased.

“I’m not that small,” Gela pouted, “I’m taller than some of your sisters.”

Driek gave her a look of amusement. “They’re all younger than you.”

Gela was quiet for a moment, thinking of a clever retort. None came to mind. “You’ve got me there.”

He smiled and gazed out to the river, where the ducks were beginning to return from their journey South. He hugged his knees to his chest and rested his head on his arms. His eyes squinted ever so slightly as he smiled.

“It’s beautiful out here,” Driek mused.

Gela couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. His pitch black hair, eyes and clothes as well as snowy skin stood in stark contrast against the vibrant greens and yellows and pinks of the meadows and the downy yellow feathers of the newly hatched ducklings. Sharp features cut out a space in the softness of the season to make room just for him. Gela mumbled, “Very beautiful, indeed.”

*

“Gela,” Driek said as he laid on his back, head resting on Gela’s lap, staring at the fluffy clouds in the sky above. Her name hung in the air like a thick, oppressive mist. Something had changed about his tone. Gone was his carefree demeanour, forced aside by something heavier.

Gela halted the weaving of her flower crown and looked down at Driek. His flower crown lay crooked on his head, unmoved from where she had draped it onto him a half hour earlier.

She swallowed thickly. “Yes?”

“I have a confession to make,” he said, voice wavering ever so slightly. Something was weighing on his heart. “Several, actually.”

“Alright,” she mumbled, wondering vaguely if she was the right person to be confessing to. “What would you have me do afterward?” she asked before nervously joking, “I don’t get the impression you need me to tell you to say your Hail Maries.”

Driek huffed a laugh. “Forgive me, hopefully. If you can find it in your heart.”

Gela’s heartbeat quickened. She felt it pounding against her ribcage as her mind started cycling through different scenarios, each worse than the last. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she finally spoke. “I’m listening.”

Gela studied his countenance closely. Driek was pointedly looking anywhere except into her eyes. His dark eyebrows knitted together. His bottom lip was red from his biting on it. Tears seemed to be forming in the corners of his eyes and his complexion seemed unsure whether or not it should be turning bright red or ghostly pale.

“My name isn’t Driek. I was born a girl.”

Gela turned this new information over in her head. Driek? Born a girl? That was impossible. She looked at his face and saw his sharp jaw and nose. She gazed at his chest and saw no breasts to speak of. She glanced further down and… Well. Everything appeared to be in order.

“What do you-” she tried to ask, but Driek kept going. Now that one proverbial sheep was across, the rest was sure to follow.

He stood up, pacing in the tall grass beside the blanket. Gela’s gaze followed his every step. “I mean, I don’t even look like this. Not really, anyway. Everything you see when you look at me, Gela, it’s an illusion.”

Gela frowned. She wasn’t sure she understood. Was this witchcraft? Had Driek - a man of God - let himself in with forces of evil? And more importantly, why?

Gela’s thoughts abruptly came to a halt as Driek fell to his knees in front of her, took her cheeks into his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “My name is Drieka,” he whispered and kissed Gela.

Much to her own surprise, she found herself kissing back. She wrapped her arms around Driek’s neck, tasting the blood on his lip. She felt none of the stubble on his chin she had observed earlier in the day. And against her chest she felt a softness that wasn’t there before.

Breathlessly, Driek withdrew from the kiss and Gela saw his true face. Rounder and softer. And when Driek stood up and drew Gela up with him, she could look him in the eye without tilting her head upward.

The tears that were forming in Driek’s eyes earlier finally spilled and sobs shook his shoulders.

Gela’s body moved of its own accord, drawing him into an embrace, gently rubbing between his shoulders and stroking his short hair. She felt a wetness spread across her shoulder just as Driek began to return the embrace.

She drew in a shaky breath, trying her level best to process everything she heard and saw, as well as the implications. She pressed a kiss to Driek’s temple.

“You know, I don’t really think I care what you look like. I don’t care whether your name is Driek or Drieka. I love you, and that’s not likely to change any time soon.”

*

The following morning Gela woke with a splitting headache. Not only did she remember the brooding, yet charismatic Driek, but also meek Drieka.

A wave of nausea washed over her as she sat up in bed. Years worth of memories erupting into her head over a matter of hours did not agree with her.

He had explained it all the day before. The illusion that disguised Driek erased all memories of his former self. Except to the people he let in on his secret.

*

‘Who else knows? Your mother? Your sisters?’

Driek laughed softly and shook his head. ‘Absolutely not. We needed a man of the house to open doors a daughter never could. Otherwise, what would they do? But do you really think they would allow me to help them in this way if they knew?’ 

‘No, I suppose not. But why me?’ 

Gently, he reached out and tucked stray hairs behind Gela’s ear. ‘Because I trust you. I felt like I had to tell someone, anyone, or I would burst. You and I are the only ones who know about this. However, you have to promise me never to call me by that name though. That name is dead and buried with my brother. If anyone overhears…’

‘I promise,’ Gela whispered and she kissed him again.

*

The rest of the preceding day, Gela had wondered vaguely about this resolute trust Driek appeared to have in her. It felt completely unfounded to her. Before that day in October they were almost perfect strangers. That was, until the memories came flooding back. Summers of foraging in the woods, dancing every harvest festival, winters of telling stories around the fire, playing every Sunday after service.

An entire life’s worth of memories, locked away for months. Never to be recalled again except at the behest of Driek. It almost felt unfair to have such happy memories torn away from her, but it didn’t feel right to mourn what had just been  returned to her.

*

'But how did this illusion come to be?'

'I prayed for the power to help my family, and my prayers were answered.'