Say
My Name
Composed
and completely dressed in new attire, I gave my reflection one last
glimpse. I felt a world apart from the girl who knocked on Sara’s
door two nights ago. I’d picked one of the skirts – a
pink and grey tartan one – to go with a fairly plain t shirt as
well as the two armfuls of bracelets I’d borrowed from Sara.
When
we crossed paths on the landing, Sara did a distinct double take.
“Whoah!”
she breathed. “That really makes a difference.”
“It
doesn’t look bad?” I twisted my hair round my finger
nervously.
“No.
It’s a good different”, assured Sara. “You know
how sometimes a contrast turns out to be the perfect match? Like
that.”
I
thought of Mercy, my opposite but stabilising force, my flip side –
the alter ego.
“Yes”,
I replied, smiling knowingly. “It’ll take some getting
used to, though.”
“It’s
fine, okay?” Sara reassured. “Listen, I came to tell you
that when I work nights, I always do dinner early. Are you hungry
now, or shall I leave some on the side in the kitchen for you?”
“Let’s
eat together. What’s on the menu?” I asked.
“Pasta.
You okay with that?”
“Don’t
see why I wouldn’t be…. Do you need any help?”
“I
couldn’t possibly expect you to do that. You’re a guest”,
replied Sara.
“Even
so, you’ve dropped everything to help me.”
“Oh,
Layla, I wasn’t very well going to turn you out!” She
pulled me into a hug. “That’s not in my nature, as in not
really an option.”
“Is
it weird that that’s why I feel all the more obliged?” I
enquired.
“No,
no, I can understand that. I think the water needs to go on the boil
soon, and the kitchen is plenty big enough for two. You can help if
you really want”, said Sara congenially as we started down the
stairs.
“We
are much too alike for our own good, Sara…”
Preparing
the meal was no problem. Two heads are better than one and all.
Dinner was on the table in record time.
“So,
when are you actually heading out tonight?” I asked across the
table.
“It’ll
be about seven”, answered Sara. I’ll try not to wake you
when I get back; it’s going to be a late one.”
“Considering
you must get new cases every day, I’m not surprised.”
“I’m
never idle”, Sara explained. “You just don’t know
what you might find when you walk in. In a bizarre way, that’s
the best part.”
“You
wouldn’t have it any other way, though”, I replied
softly.
“Definitely
not”, said Sara. “I can’t imagine not knowing
anyone from the lab. The friendships I’ve formed wouldn’t
be possible.”
“What
are they like – your friends?” I asked, leaning forward
in my interest.
Sara
paused for thought, fork poised in her bowl. It seemed like she was
picturing them in her head, but was unsure how to word what she saw.
Not that it was unusual for her to consider her words carefully.
“My
closest friend is probably Elouise. Everyone’s always called
her Elle at the lab, though, since I can remember. She’s sort
of the opposite of my appearance: blonde, blue eyes, petite…” answered
Sara eventually. “Constantly buzzing with energy. You’d
like her – she has one of those very warm, sunny dispositions.
I know her to be incredibly empathetic. She can adjust to pretty much
anybody’s wavelength, to get through to them." All the
while, Sara had been slowly swirling her fork in her pasta for
something to do with it.
“How
do you observe so much?”
“I
work with her regularly, and she probably knows me just as well”,
Sara replied. “We’re trained to notice all the details,
Layla.” She stabbed a piece of pasta with her fork and put it
into her mouth.
I
knew the food was getting cold, because I had been eating while I
listened to Sara. The conversation dropped for a few minutes, while
we finished our meal before it cooled completely. This did not stop
me wanting to know more, and once the bowls were in the dishwasher, I
dug a little deeper.
“Do
you work with anyone else really closely?” I asked.
“Riley”,
she recounted with a sigh, as if she were remembering something that
was funny at the time. “He acts a little bit like he hasn’t
grown out of being the class clown. You know… likes a reaction
when he enters a room. Every time. He’s a great friend, but his
immaturity makes working with him difficult sometimes.”
I
giggled at this description, and the cheeky, laughing face I imagined
to go with it.
Sara
got up, picked up her handbag and started putting things in it
calmly, not in any real rush. Her phone, keys from the hallway when
she went to get her shoes. This was her way of saying “I really
must go” without words. The clock read ten to seven when she
was ready to go.
“See
you later, Layla”, said Sara. I was leant in the hallway
doorframe, and she was by the front door.
“Goodbye”,
I replied a little sadly as she stepped out of the door.
‘This
is the way things are – how they must be,’ I
thought. ‘I
couldn’t possibly measure what an improvement this is upon the
institution, though.’
Nevertheless,
I still turned into the living room to watch Sara pull off the
driveway through the window.
Now
I was on my own, the bangles on my arms felt like they had become a
nuisance, so I shed them all. Not wanting to just leave them laying
somewhere, I decided to put the bracelets back in Sara’s room
before I did anything else, which led me upstairs.
I
turned on Sara’s bedroom light, not knowing where anything was
in the dark. The dresser stood against the wall opposite the bed, and
I decided it was there I should replace the borrowed bracelets. A
view of the bed could be seen in the dresser’s mirror, as could
the paper strewn across the covers.
‘Is
it one of Sara’s case files, do you think?’ I asked
Mercy. ‘I didn’t think she was allowed to bring that sort
of thing home.”
‘No,
it’s a romance novel’, she replied. 'Of
course it’s a fricking case file!'
The
bangles chinked against one another as they dropped out of my hand to
the ground, forgotten. I only meant to be in and out…. I
wasn’t looking for anything, or trying to hurt anyone…
‘Then
what is my picture doing here, Merce?’
I
shook the photo as if it were a developing Polaroid, stealing a
second glance to take in the information. Yes,
Sara. All the details…
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