THE OTHER HALF

CHAPTER 1

WHERE IS BORIS?

—Where is Boris? —asked Rost, Lebana's best friends, when a baby of a near table stared to cry, because he wanted the toy on Friday's menu.

—That's a really good question. — Lebana answered ironically. — Maybe with the other girl. Who knows.

Rost looked at her sadly.

—Are you okay? You even told me what exactly happened.

Lebana sighed, trying to understand by herself in what point the thing turned back so wrong.

—Nothing happened, or maybe it happened of everything and I didn't even notice it.

—I Just wonder who sent you the pictures, and why.

—I am pretty sure that's the classy way of Boris to tell me that we broke up.

Rost didn't say a thing because there wasn't to say. They finished their coffe in silence. After that, he took her to Dr. Finnigan's office, Lebanas's psychiatrist.

She wasn't in the mood to see Dr. Finnigan. When she said goodbye to Rost, she felt the usual click of somewhere. The way to the office, which was unusually cute, it was eternal.

Dr. Finnigan was a woman in her sixties; Tall, thin, like a skeleton in a two piece suit. Lebana had a relationship of love and hate with her. On one hand, the doctor helped her with her mental disorder, and on the other hand, it reminded her thath it was not normal, and that it would never be.

—Can you tell me your name, please? —asked.

—Lebana. — answered, as she did three times a week, every week.

—Did you know why you are here?

—Because I have multiple personality disorder. —she replied, as quoting a known poem.

Dr. Finnigan nodded approvingly, and asked her routine questions. Then, she asked about Anabel, the other personality, the other person that exists in Lebana's body.

—I don't know. She let me notes sometimes, but I don't read it anymore. I can't forgive her. She killed my dog.

—How did Boris take all this? It was his dog too.

And there it was. She had thought that maybe, she could go of the office without mentioning the subject of Boris, but obiusly, she couldn't. The silence was longer than it must have been, so Lebana said:

—He asked me for a while. —silence again. — But I'm fine. I mean, being the boyfriend of two completely diferente girls at the same time must be hard. — Lebana lies. If Boris didn't have enough with girlfriend with multiple personality, it was because he was crazy. — Even more when one of them killed doggos because she don't like them. —She added, to make the conversation more normal.

Among her zombie face, her ambiguous responses and her depressive tendencies, Finnigan increased her dose of lithium and with a worried expression told her not to be afraid to ask for help if she thought it necessary.

Finnigan's office was near her home. She walked slowly, wondering if it had been smart not to go to work that day. The click sounded distant. When she arrived home, she sat on the couch and began to see the photos again, in a masochistic act.

After a few minutes she managed to see beyond Boris kissing the other girl's naked body. One of the pictures showed a window, and she recognized the street. It was not even a place far from home

Lebana took the keys from the car and drove to the only building on that block. She didn't know what she was looking for. She just went to the concierge and asked if she had seen Boris lately.
Also asked about the redheaded girl.

—I don't know, Miss. He left with a girl in a yellow scarf last night

Boris had left her less than twenty-four hours ago and had already left with another girl, who was not even the same as in the photos. She came home even sadder. Boris had been her boyfriend for five years. They were friends, lovers, family. She fell asleep with a throbbing pain in her chest. When she awoke, the sun had set, and she had a note in her hand.

I do this for both. If you are very sad, look at the cupboard the first gift I gave you, and if you do not find it, go to the address of the GPS of our car. 

 Anabel.