Chapter 8

By Meg Vaidy

The tube-voice announced Kaira’s arrival at Tottenham Court Road, warning her to mind the gap between the train and the platform. She smiled, remembering the time she had slipped into the gap, her thigh disappearing almost entirely. Henri had to pull her out, laughing so hard tears flowed from his eyes. She bruised like a peach and her leg had been purple for a week after. Walking up the escalator, her mind shifted through her many fond memories of him like notes in a rolodex. She couldn’t wait for Henri to check on her tomorrow. 

As she walked into Arlo’s cabin, she noticed he must have left in a hurry, his coffee was still warm on his table.  His assistant told her the team was next door, informing her curtly she was late, again. Guilt overcame her as she weaved past the crowd over to the next street. She would be just in time - if Arlo lost this pitch, he was going to be in far worse trouble than she was. Then she rolled her eyes, she knew it’s more likely she would be in trouble, she would get fired. A perfect end to a ridiculous day, she thought. 

She went over her talking points in her head and didn’t notice the freshly wiped and spotless glass door until she rushed straight into it. Startled and a little disorientated, she started to steady herself, and collect her things, when a firm hand gripped her arm and helped her up. 

“Watch where you’re going, hayete. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” 

She didn’t have to look at him; she would know that voice anywhere. She blushed beet red, embarrassed that Paul had seen her walk into a door. He only called her ‘hayete’, it made her feel special, like they shared something secret. He had never called Alexa anything but Lex. Paul smiled his strange half smile, relishing the effect he had on her. She wasn’t surprised he was here, but couldn’t help staring for a moment. She hadn’t seen him in years, yet he looked like it had been just a day. He had a penchant for wearing white shirts, left untucked but neatly pressed. What? he asked, the stubble on his chin glinting in the sunlight. Stop staring at me, or is there something on my face? He laughed and pulled her into a hug, the smell of him bringing back every memory.

Deep down, Kaira had always known she had wronged Lex by taking Paul away from her. As far as she knew, Lex never found out, she had believed Paul was utterly dedicated to her - the two of them worked hard to keep it that way. They grew closer the more controlling Lex became. They would meet to talk, first about Lex, then about the world, about the future. They liked different things and this brought them closer. Kaira loved culture and languages, Paul was trilingual and an ecelectic mixture of Arab and French. He yearned to know more about her life, her family, he didn’t have the same upbringing. He felt like he belonged to something more when he was with her, and her family always welcomed him. Once everything fell apart on graduation day, she left to find her calling and her undergraduate years flew by in a haze, Paul-less. Then she met Henri, and Paul left her mind completely. 

Paul’s grip on her shoulders brought her back to the present. “Hayete! You’re miles away! I almost feel left out.” He laughed nervously, and then his face grew serious. “Come, we need to get out of here. No questions asked, I'll tell you later. We could...”

“Paul, wait, what? What!” Kaira pushed him away. This was absurd, he couldn’t just write letters or show up, looking like he did, and expect her to go away with him. “What..What the hell are you talking about?”

He buried his face in his palms, rubbing his eyes. “Okay, look, I know you met Lex. I was there too. I was on the tube and I followed you to Pret. I couldn't come in obviously. I... I can explain but on the way! There’s a lot you don’t know.”

“Erm... okay. Right. So you’re stalking me. Great, just what I need.” Kaira started to walk into the building, ignoring Paul’s efforts to stop her. “Look, I have work. I’m not interested in whatever you think this is. Okay? I read your letter, Lex seems fine. I, on the other hand am about to lose my job! So why don’t we continue this later? I’ll erm...I’ll run away with you in a few hours. How’s that?”

“You don’t seem to think that I’m serious.” 

“Paul, what the hell is wrong with you? Of course I don’t! I don’t even know what you’re serious about! You said Lex was a problem. Didn’t seem that way as she sipped her latte and told me who she screwed last week! You need to relax! I can’t deal with you right now.”

“Kaira écoutez-moi! Listen to me! Lex knows.” Something in Paul’s tone made her turn. It was in his face too. A pained expression had taken over. He emphasised the next words he said and it made her blood run cold. “Alexa. Knows.”


*

“Oui?” Alexa put out her cigarette on a lamp post as she blew out the rest of the smoke. “She called me like you said, I’m seeing her tonight. At her place.” 

She starts to walk towards the tube station. “Yeah, I could see her across the street. Paul turned up, they’re having a heart-to-heart. Makes me wanna hurl.” 

Lex walks down the steps into the station laughing. “Oh come on Henri, you know I can handle myself. Baby, don’t worry, c’est pas une probleme!”

Chapter 5

by Meg V

Lex and Kaira, inseparable little things. They had once even had matching outfits, for special occasions, Mrs. Martin-Kobayashi would say. They would hang on to each other’s words, complete each other’s sentences. But today, in the loud buzzing of the café, Lex’s animated chatter soon became white noise. Curiousity had gotten the better of Kaira – she wondered why Lex was back in her world again. Was it really fate like she had said on the tube? When she had left Switzerland, she had hoped this day would never come. She had been careful, changing her email, her online social profiles left non-existent.

Kaira watched as a drop of creamy brown latte travelled slowly down her mug onto the table, her mind blank. She didn’t understand all that about Afghanistan, about Paul. Her first reaction had been shock, her eyes had even watered. It was truly horrifying, but not for the reason people would think. She shifted in her seat to study Lex’s face better. Lex had aged, but in a way only a lucky few can. Perhaps it was in her great genes - she was a carbon-copy of her mother. There was the tiniest hint of wrinkles around her eyes, her face framed by her layered bob of purple-red, straight as spaghetti. It was a wonder she conformed appearance-wise, she was so different in every other way. It surprised her sometimes how well they used to get along; opposites really did attract.

Lex didn’t seem bothered by her now silent companion. That’s what she was like, one moment serious, the next cuckoo, carefree; she used to envy her so. Her life must look effortless to those that don’t really know her, but Kaira had been around long enough to see her as the remorseless ‘Mr. Hyde’, or in this case, 'Ms. Hyde'.

Kaira just caught snippets of Lex’s monologue – mundane gossip, basics about her life in France, a stint in Sweden where she was on a magazine cover (how Lex!), a lazy Indian summer, then back to Switzerland. As she stirred her coffee and glanced at the clock, 9.50 am (oh dear, she hadn’t even called work), something occurred to her - the country names – she wondered where she had seen them listed, in that very order.

Blocking out Lex’s voice again, her thoughts shifted to the letter – when she found it on the carpet by the door, she had noticed the lack of postage stamps. That same moment, she had recognised the hand-writing and the stamps had been forgotten. Paul was here in London, still alive. France, Sweden, India, it was all in there, unmistakably in Paul’s tiny scrawl. Of course she remembered it well. But she couldn’t fit the jigsaw together, what was Lex’s role? Was Lex lying to her? She wouldn’t put it past her, after all, it’s not like they had even been on speaking terms for years. But here they were at Prèt a Manger, catching up. Perversion or desperation, she wondered… she couldn’t comprehend what would compel any person to tell such a fib. Paul’s letter had no mention of Lex. If there were no stamps, she could assume that Paul hand-delivered it; did he know where she lived? Her heart began to race, her mind a flurry of over-activity. The main question dawned on her – why did Lex say he was dead… she hadn’t quite seen the big picture yet.

Suddenly, she felt a strong urge to leave. She needed to get home. Where had she even put the letter? On the chair? She hadn’t left it in the sun, that much she was sure about. She didn’t give a damn about Jenna’s chihuahua, or Fen’s divorce. Why did Lex care anyway, she never used to gossip so much. Apart from countries, she hadn’t really gone into detail about her actual life. So what if Lex was popular in Sweden, with her exotic looks, and her French accent; it didn’t matter to her. She’d gotten past the envy; she was a different Karia Marie.

“Lex, hun, I have to go now. I can’t be too late to work, they already hate me for it!” she abruptly announced. She hoped Lex hadn’t noticed her inner turmoil.

Lex stopped mid-sip and stared at her, pouting. She didn’t like being interrupted, especially for something as trivial as work. “K! No, not fair! Come on, it’s been years! I told you to call them!”

“I’m sorry, but I really have to get going. This was great, really, really great! Look, give me your number, and I’ll ring you once I’m home alright? Maybe you can come over?” She paused, handed over her phone, and stood up to collect her things. “Lex... I can’t believe you’re here again. I promise I’ll call.”

Lex watched her, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as she frantically put her coat back on. She doesn’t reciprocate as Kaira bends over to kiss her cheek goodbye. She continues to sit there, quite still, no sign of emotion on her face as she hands Kaira her phone back.

“Later then”, she states plainly, as Kaira disappears through the swinging doors.

*

Kaira smiled weakly at a few familiar faces as she got off the bus, making no effort to connect with small talk. Changing her slow pace to a more central London brisk-walk, she kept her head down deep in thought and sped home past the newsagents and row houses. It had started to spit again, but it was still warm. She should be home before she gets too damp. Just when she couldn’t fit another thought in her head, her phone rang.

“Hello?”

“K! Where the hell are you! This is getting ridiculous! I can’t believe you’d do this to me!” Arlo’s voice boomed into her ear, anger in every syllable. Steady, reliable Arlo, whom she had hurt many a time unintentionally.

“Yeah I can explain… I… I’ll be there. It’s only at 2, there’s plenty of time yet. I just have this thing... I have to do this thing.” She was distracted, she could see her front door a few houses away, but something was different.

“Bullshit Kaira.” He had put up with this long enough. “You know, this time, I can’t… I just don’t believe…”

“Arlo I have to go.” She said it so fast - it was like one long word. She hung up, slowly slipping her phone into her bag as she edged towards her gate, her eyes wide with worry.

The door to her house was open.

Chapter 1

by Meg Vaidy

The dull, humming sound of silence was pierced by the shrill scream of the alarm clock on bedside table. 6.03 am. She liked to set it a few odd minutes before she actually needed to get out of bed. It felt like there was more time for a snooze that way. A slender hand reaches out from somewhere within the blue ocean of her duvet and attempted to slap the clock back into silence, knocking over the half glass of water. It went all over the muddy brown side-table, darkening the wood, and with it, the things on the table. Receipts, an ice cream stick, a ticket from the matinee they caught, the remaining few pound coins, drunkenly, yet carefully dropped into a shallow bowl before collapsing into bed. Her mind explodes with new activity, panic, as an aching thought pops up – “and that letter, received late Saturday evening”.

“Shit!” A mad scramble to save the letter from the spreading wetness ensues. The bed sheets tangle around her body and she succeeds in ungracefully flopping off the bed onto her mildly damp jeans. This surprised her, she must have been exhausted if she hadn't even been able to put her jeans away. Rain in London - the wet chill of spitting rain have ruined many a summer’s day. She vaguely remembers sprinting her way home over fresh puddles from where the night bus dropped her off. She grabs the letter and chucks it over to the chair in the corner, where it lands with a squelch. It’s wet. She’ll have to remember to put it out in the sun for a bit with a paper weight; she’s not ready to throw it away yet. She needs to read it again, and then one more time. Her curiously dark eyes, now panda-like in appearance, wander over the remnants of chaos in her room from last night. She’s got to stop these late Sunday nights, she’s getting too old for them. Music is too loud and often just noise, the humid closeness of other people at a club is unbearable. The only good thing about late nights are those hotdogs with juicy onions they sell that are always so tempting, or chips, with extra vinegar. She could go for one of those right now… or maybe not, she thinks as she gets up and makes a dash for the bathroom.

Hangovers. The inevitable result of a night out, they sneak up on you in the early hours of the morning, while you’re passed out and not able enough to put up a fight when a migraine worse than any other threatens. It’s the beginning of the July, and a Monday, officially worst day of the week. She can’t afford to be late again. They already think she’s a bit student-like at work. So her dress sense is somewhat quirky, her experience lacking, and her attitude a bit too laid back for a mature world. She shakes her heavy head; some habits take a while to leave you. Sometimes she truly believes she did travel all last year.

She’s 26 tomorrow, the fifth of July ‘05, her new, improved grown-up life has started out disappointingly uneventful, she could sense it - she wasn’t headed in the right direction. In the bustle of London, everyone on the streets has a master plan. Everyone has somewhere to be, somewhere to go, someone to impress. Where was her somewhere, or someone? She always had a full weekend, plenty to do, plenty to eat, plenty of chatter, but come Monday, it was just plenty of emptiness.

She shuts the alarm off a second time and swallows a Panadol with a gulp of cold water from the tap. She usually preferred to have water from a bottle, or at least filtered, but she really couldn’t be fussy now. Slower than usual motor skills make getting ready in the morning near impossible, and with a big day ahead, she needs her mind to be clear as day. She gets herself presentable for work, glad that her outfit for the day was already put together, hanging in her closet. Hot showers work wonders on tough days, and soon, she’s at the table forcing herself to keep some toast down. As she feeds herself, she sighs to the mirror looming over the landing. Taking one last look at her mop of a mane, she decides it’s a lost cause and walks down the stairs to slip her shoes on. Glancing at her watch, she grabs her coat and bag from the hooks by the door. 7.07 am. Let the day begin, she thinks.