Ruins of Autumn

40• Colleague

    Sidoreli made sure that Anila wasn't around when he approached the edge of the company yard to call his older brother.
 
    "Hello?" Leonardi didn't delay answering him.
 
    "The event was just over. Alketa wants to work at the company."
 
    "What is the problem?"
 
    "Amarildo Idrizaj's sister works here too."
 
    "Which one?"
 
    "The first."
 
    "How do you know this?"
 
    "We met."
 
    "What?!"
 
    "She didn't recognise me," Sidoreli added instantly, to calm him down.
 
    "Tell Alketa to find another company."
 
    "I told her, but she doesn't want to. A friend of hers is registered here, and Alketa wants to work with her."
 
    He understood the reason for Leonardi's silence on the other end of the line.
 
    "You have to work for this company too. We can't leave Alketa alone. Who knows what Anila can do to her?"
 
    "Okay," Sidoreli agreed.
 
    "And be very careful," Leonardi warned. "Maybe she had found out about you and her brother, and she might be planning something."
 
••••
    When she watched Visara study with passion for the major she loved, Anila was motivated to believe that soon her sister would appreciate her efforts for their family and that she would help her when she got a job. Anila believed that she would be rewarded, as she expected, in the future.
 
    "Good morning, sleeping ugly!"
 
    Or not.
 
    Slowly and late, she was realising that she was going to get that reward when Visara opened the door and happily entered Anila's room without her permission first.
 
    She had forgotten to lock the door again.
 
    "Ah, light!" she complained when Visara opened the curtains and Anila covered herself with a sheet.
 
    "Ah, light!" Visara sighed excitedly. "Ania, your first day at work on a level up," she recalled, very happy, while opening the wardrobe and taking a look at her clothes, although she knew what Anila would wear.
 
    Anila didn't move at all from her bed but kept her blank gaze fixed on the blue sky tinged with gold from the western sunlight.
 
    "I'm glad that you are so enthusiastic too," her sister remarked with irony, and she approached the bed to sit next to her. "Get up. We have a lot of work to do. We will look for hairstyles on the Internet, choose clothes... or should you go to a hairstylist? You have to look very nice on the first day for people to get the energy of a boss in their presence."
 
    In such moments, when Visara didn't stop talking, Anila thought convincingly that her sister was payback for her former self. She couldn't even ask her to shut up or why she had so much energy because she had been like that herself at Visara's age, and now she was realising how much Brunilda had suffered from her.
 
    Her cousin had probably already found a similar circle of friends and forgotten about Anila long ago. Missing her former close friend managed to lower her head from the agony that she no longer had her and had never had a friend as close as her after their friendship.
 
    She didn't feel anyone near her, as she had felt Brunilda. She was choking inside the shell where she had isolated herself, and now she couldn't even breathe.
 
    Anila stood up without speaking, ignoring Visara's excessive energy as usual, and went to the bathroom. She had broken the mirror there and bought a new wardrobe without a mirror for her room. She had dragged her promise to buy another one soon for the bathroom, and then she said that there was no need to waste money, as they had full-length mirrors in their respective rooms. For her parents and Visara, it had seemed like a waste of time to object.
 
    Her arms barely obeyed her to help her hands wash her face, and she went to the kitchen to eat breakfast.
 
    If she didn't have responsibility towards her family, she would have lived alone and could have expressed her pain whenever she wanted at her house, she would have cried when she felt the need to show through that action how unbearable her wounds were becoming from the pain. With her parents and her sister by her side every second, the weight of carrying everything was just killing her more and more each day. 
 
    She had thought about going to a psychologist, but the fear that the doctor would tell anyone and they would take advantage of her past and hurt her convinced Anila not to take any risks. She would rather remain all her life with that amount of huge and deep wounds in her soul. Maybe if a little more time passed, she would get used to that situation, and herself would become more bearable.
 
    "Ania, breakfast is ready." Visara knocked on the door again and again.
 
    Anila sighed deeply, exhausted with her head raised, and she felt a painful longing for the times when she woke up without anyone around her, giving her a headache from their nonstop talking. She understood Visara for constantly wanting to stay with her and organise activities together, but she couldn't adapt to her never-ending energy when she only wanted to stay locked in a room in silence and never leave her safe house again. If they had had another sister with a small age difference, and she had taken up with Visara, it would have been great. But Anila had to keep her sister close so that the latter would not search secretly for someone else to receive from them the love that she didn't receive from her.
 
    "Did you have breakfast?" Anila asked Visara, who had been waiting for her in the corridor, although she guessed the answer.
 
    "Yes," she had woken up as usual at six o'clock in the morning, had done all the housework, and, after having breakfast, had turned on the TV to watch a movie.
 
    "Where are mom and dad?" Anila entered the kitchen and sat at the dining table.
 
    "They have gone out." Visara placed the toast prepared for her, along with a glass of milk, and took an apple for herself to accompany her sister. "What fruit do you want?"
 
    "Kiwi."
 
    Visara also brought her the knife to peel the kiwi and sat down in front of her.
 
    "Enjoy the meal," she smiled, and Anila looked at her, as if Visara's happiness at such a time was unusual, although she knew that, if Visara hadn't been that strong, Anila wasn't sure that she and her parents would have lived for so long. For her sake, they tried to move forward in life as less depressed as possible so as not to upset her. 
 
    Two hours later, she arrived in front of the company outside its yard, surrounded by dark yellow railings, and sat motionless to get herself together.
 
    No one would hurt her if she kept her distance. She would attend the meeting, have a short conversation with her boss, and return home. She could do it. Keeping her head down was enough. She only had to observe in time to avoid any mirror that they could have placed on a wall, and she would be fine.
 
    Anila took off the seat belt and got out of the car. She strode to the company yard and headed for the entrance. Luckily for her, the building had no glass walls to reflect on her. The vibration of the phone in her pocket slowed her steps, and Anila stopped completely when she read the new message from Visara, who was wondering if she had arrived yet and was all right.
 
    'I arrived,' she wrote quickly. 'I'm fine.'
 
    "Hello."
 
    Anila immediately backed away in panic and saw the shorter girl, wearing white baggy jeans and a yellow crop top, along with matching coloured trainers, that had approached her behind her back. She had been at the company with Sidorel Nura a month ago.
 
    "I am Alketa Nura. I recently registered at this company, and I would like to congratulate you on your new job. Many successes," the stranger smiled at her in a friendly manner, seemingly unaffected by the strict gaze of the woman in front of her, judging Alketa for daring to talk to her without her approval.
 
    Anila listened to her reason, looking at Sidoreli, who had just entered the company's territory. He expressed it with a look that he also remembered from a month ago in a bus, looked at the girl in front of her, guessed that she had disturbed Anila, and asked the latter with a threatening look to behave.
 
    "Thanks," Anila looked icily at Alketa's light brown eyes, like the colour of her hair parted in the middle, tied behind her back, and a few strands left on both sides over her face. She blinked her eyes, annoyed, and looked defiantly at Sidoreli, if he would have the courage to criticise her for reacting that way. 
 
    "Not at all." Alketa smiled politely, not affected by Anila's harsh coldness, and turned to Sidoreli. "Shall we go?"
 
    He searched Alketa's face for hurt because of Anila's reaction, and he threw his arm around her neck to pull her away from Anila.
 
    "Yes." Sidoreli brought his sister closer to him, and they headed to the entrance.
 
    He had told her several times not to talk to every possible person she met, but Alketa had justified herself by saying that a kind word and a positive conversation never hurt anyone. Maybe that person needed exactly that talk, but they couldn't ask for it. She rejected his argument that people could take advantage of such a situation and have negative intentions towards her by saying that then she would understand that she had to walk away from that person and not endanger herself.
 
    Anila approached the end of the yard and took deep breaths irregularly. She had to control herself, follow the flow of the moment, and not stand out too much, so as not to become enmity with someone and get into trouble.
 
    On the one hand, she had a strange desire for just such occasions. She wanted to release all the bitterness and unspoken hatred of the past to someone so that she would feel more at ease, and she thought that besides looking cold and a distant person to be left alone in her business, she found the creation of debates as a reason to release those hatred feelings that had gathered for years.
 
    Controlling her breathing was the key. If she convinced herself that there was nothing to worry about, it would be easier. As soon as she entered the company, she immediately checked for mirrors.
 
    She saw the tattooist talking with other young people near the products placed in the showcases next to the white walls and noticed Alketa in conversation with the company administrator and some other employees, where Anila's boss was also there.
 
    She approached the group with a fake smile and felt panic, clutching her throat for fear that she would say the wrong words or do something wrong, that everyone present would create a negative impression of her, and that many would remember her from that event.
 
    Fear that Anila had never thought she would ever give in to. She had always been in combat mode against the latter when it imprisoned Brunilda, but now that fear was taking its revenge on Anila, and her attack by thinking that there was nothing to be alarmed about, because that's how much anxiety everyone felt sometimes when they were dealing with other people not very close to them, wasn't worth anything.
 
     Anila no longer had the beauty of six years ago, highlighted by the ecstatic spirit of that time, to use them both to her advantage. She was just a piece of ruin in the form of a seemingly flawless body that was of no use to anyone, not even her. And to tell what problem was bothering her, she was afraid that it would seem like she was playing the victim, not that she really felt the way she explained that she felt.
 
    "Hello," she said in a timid and perturbed voice, afraid that she would receive looks of antipathy for daring to think herself at the right level to enter into a conversation with them. Alketa was looking with sympathy at her, just like the other colleagues.
 
    "How are you, Anila?" The administrator extended her hand, and Anila took a deep breath, relieved by her kindness.
 
    The dose of motivation in her past, that she was very smart, took care of herself, was always optimistic, and minded her own business, and therefore was actually much higher than that kind of level, was over. Anila no longer felt worthy of even being looked at by them.
 
    "Very good," she said, smiling.
 
    "It's two o'clock," Ilirjana noticed. "Shall we start? Let's leave the door open. Maybe more will come."
 
    "Yes," Majlinda, who would be the only one to speak in that training class, agreed with her.
 
    "Come," Ilirjana directed Anila from the second row of chairs to the left of the head of the hall. "Let's sit there together."
 
    Anila followed Alketa with her gaze for a moment, until she went near Sidoreli and turned to Ilirjana. She sat on the chair to her left and started listening to Majlinda, who was greeting the people who had come to the event.
 
    She took her phone out of her pocket to record something and casually glanced at Sidoreli in the row to her left; her eyes went to his hands, and the lack of any rings reminded her of the tradition Blerta Mino had mentioned about the men in his family marrying at twenty-four years old. Maybe he was married, but he couldn't put rings on, or he was divorced, or he wasn't married at all.
 
    Anila then looked at his bare arms without any tattoos and compared him to other tattoo artists she had met who had done all those tattoos on their bodies. She looked at him and froze, as if she had been thrown into the icy ocean with her heart locked in an airless bottle, when she met Sidoreli's fixed gaze upon her, clearly aware from his point of view that she had been staring at his body.
 
    Anila turned her head towards Majlinda and regretted that she had reacted that way. It would have been better if she had looked at him for a second longer with disdain, then looked at the others, and it would have seemed like she had been casually looking around.
 
    She had revealed herself by looking away promptly and showing that she had been staring at him for a long time. She didn't have the courage to look at him, to find out if Sidoreli had understood whether she had been looking at him or not. She didn't want to be misunderstood, as if she had feelings for him when something like that was not true at all, so during the ongoing training, she kept her eyes focused on the stage, where Majlinda was speaking, and occasionally on the phone, even though she often had the feeling that she was under Sidoreli's look.
 
••••
    "How did it go?" Visara greeted her with that question as soon as she opened the front door of their house.
 
    "Good," Anila replied as she entered. "Have our parents come?" She took off the black trainers to put on the black slippers.
 
    "Yes, they're in the living room. I just made myself coffee. Would you like a cup too?" Visara followed her sister to her room.
 
    "I don't drink coffee, Visara," Anila recalled monotonously.
 
    "You have to because you need more energy. You shouldn't go to work every day like you just got back from war. 'Were you the general in any battle?' they will ask you."
 
    " 'The fallen soldier,' I will tell them." Anila left her bag on the bed and sat at the head of it.
 
    "What will you wear?" Visara opened the wardrobe.
 
    "Take out a pair of tracksuits and a T-shirt."
 
    "Tracksuits at the end of July? Wear a dress. The body needs a little freedom that only dresses can give."
 
    "Don't talk nonsense!" Anila replied sternly, stiffened by the mention of the word 'body' and what moments it forced her to remember.
 
    "Okay, suit yourself." Visara left a pair of black overalls and a blouse at the end of the bed. "Do you want anything else?"
 
    "Can you make me blueberry tea?"
 
    "Sure. We can drink tea together and talk." Visara spoke happily about the newly made plan to spend time with her sister and left the room.
 
    Anila immediately thought of the tattoo artist and his look across the hall in response to her gaze, and she covered her embarrassed face with her hands, wishing that things had turned out differently, and now he wasn't thinking that maybe she liked him. She couldn't control the overwhelming feeling of her whole being from the awareness of Sidoreli's existence and all the meetings between them in the studio over five years ago, in the urban bus, and at the company.
 
    She shuddered when she heard the ringing of the phone in her black purse, and the thought that the video had been sent to her made her put her hands on her head and tighten her loose hair from stress. She was going crazy. 
 
    She opened her purse and took out her phone to read the newly received notification. She didn't know if she had to be grateful or worried as she read and re-read the notification from the Instagram app.
 
    sidorel_nura, who you might know, is on Instagram.
 
    She removed the notification from the main screen, turned off the phone, and looked at the sky outside the window.
 
    If only she hadn't been created as a person but as a sunflower on an island! She would have woken towards the east across the sea; she would have followed the warm sun to the west until it hid behind the mountains; and on the way back completely towards the east again, she would have been able to admire the stars at night in the navy blue sky.
 
    She looked at her phone again, and the newly formed hypothesis in her mind froze her in place, and fear took full control of her again. What if they had posted her and Blerimi's video or one of the photos online and tagged Sidoreli in those posts? Imagining his disgusted reaction to her made her heart skip a beat, turn on her phone, and open the Instagram app, alarmed. She tapped the notifications icon, but it didn't open right away due to an unstable data cable.
 
    "Ugh!" Anila called desperately. "Exactly at the right time," she thought ironically. She used her number's data and immediately clicked on his name when it appeared at the top of the notifications.
 
    The account was public and had one post, 527 followers, and 682 accounts following. The profile picture showed Sidoreli sitting behind the desk she immediately recognised at his tattoo studio, wearing a grey t-shirt, and drawing. In his bio were written the numbers 42358.
 
    She immediately went to the posts where he was tagged and took a deep breath, relieved by their absence. She went back to his single post and clicked on it. The photo was published on May 4th three years ago, and the tattooist had not written any caption. He had been photographed by the sea getting out of a black car and closing the latter's door, looking indifferently at the camera in front of him, and dressed all in black. She carefully read the comment highlighted by the app among the seventy-three other comments on that post and his reply.
 
    arbeta.gj12 Many happy returns swh 💯🥰🤗❤
        sidorel_nura @arbeta.gj12  Thnx
 
    She couldn't stop the smirk at the coldness of his comment, as if she herself had written 'Thnx' with that icy feeling.
 
    But who was this Arbeta?
 
    She had commented, 'Sweetheart'... As far as Anila knew, 'swh' still had the meaning of that word. Unless that was a coded conversation between the two of them. Was she his girlfriend? His reply, 'Thnx' didn't mean 'Thanks' but 'Sleep with me.'?
 
    She moved her finger to see Arbeta's profile, but immediately moved it away before touching her profile picture.
 
    Why would she care who Arbeta was?
 
    She sighed lightly. She had missed such normal actions in life, where she didn't think that every person she included in her memories wanted to hurt her as Blerimi had done to her, but she shouldn't go that far.
 
    Anila decided to exit his profile. She slid her finger over Sidoreli's post without paying attention, her eyes tired from the long time spent on the screen, and she was stupefied when a white heart appeared in the middle of his photo and disappeared within a second.
 
    "No, no, no!" she called with narrowed eyes and immediately deleted the red heart of 'like' on the photo.

    What on Earth had she just gotten herself into? Now he would receive the notification that she had liked his photo, which meant that she had checked his profile, and although the account she was using was not in her name but was that of the work @anastore_iv, Sidoreli would suspect that ana was her shortened name, the letters i for her last name, and v for Visara, that Anila had that account, and she was stalking him!

    Why was she constantly put in such misunderstanding situations with him? First, the look at the company, now Instagram... Even deleting the account wouldn't be worth it because he would have already gotten the notification and would have found out everything.

    He must have felt such negative discomfort from guessing that she liked him, and meanwhile, Sidoreli was in love with someone else.

    Anila frowned in contortion at the image of his embarrassment, and she herself felt uncomfortable at such emotions, which she could have caused Sidoreli.

    She thought about quitting her job. What if he became obsessed, to his detriment, with the thought that Anila liked him? Only to stay as far away from him as possible, she was going to find another job.