HER

CHAPTER 6 Identities (LANA)

I had been driving for what felt like forever. The windows were slightly open, pulling the breeze in against my face. The cold air made my throat catch. It reminded me so strongly of home, of those long drives my family would take, just for something to do. Those were the days, I smiled to myself. I wish they'd never ended.

Marina sat staring out into the night her head pressed hard against the window. I could see her hands were wrung and curling in her lap, her breath fogging the glass. She was blatantly anxious. We didn't speak for the entire journey, the radio played static music. I could make out the faintest gravelly voice of Lesley Gore. If I strained hard enough I could hear Marina, humming softly. The car spluttered breaking the silence.

The car belonged to Larry, it still smelt faintly of the Cuban cigars he smoked and the mints he used to chew constantly. He chewed them on the right side of his mouth, grinding them down into a fine grain before swallowing. I didn't miss him.

Eventually, as my eyes began to grow heavy I spotted a rather run down motel. The bricks were dark and mottled, the paint peeling and yellowed. A chill ran down my spine as I parked. Had we really escaped? Had we really gotten away with it? I didn't know. Or want to at least. As questions ran wild in my mind I took Marinas hand and led her to the main reception.

I had to pick a name. Not just any old name. A good name, that no one would remember. I picked the name that was dead to me a long time ago. "Elizabeth Grant" I stuttered to the greasy looking man.  I hadn't said that name in so long, I felt a slight thrill of adrenaline course through my bones. Marina muttered that she needed to clear her head and set off in search of a grocery store for something to eat.

I started to panic, I shouldn't have used that name. It was like I was asking to be found. Fuck. Why didn't I pick something plain and simple. Maybe I did want to be found. To have someone familiar again. No I told myself don't be so stupid. Decidedly I went for a long walk convincing myself the air would soothe my throbbing head. The sun was starting to rise. I spent so much time in the dark I had forgotten how wonderful the sun was.

When I arrived back I noticed how unsettlingly quiet it was. Silence not only filled the room, but drowned it. The only audible sound was the dribble of the shower. Marinas bags lay askew on the bed, meaning she couldn't have gone. I called out to her. Fiddling with the bathroom door handle I found it was locked. I knocked repeatedly on the cheap wood. There was no answer, panic and dread flashed through me, my vision turning white. I kicked hard on the door. Blood filled my shoes as I kicked over and over until the door finally gave and swung open.

She was sitting in the shower, her clothes and hair soaked, her lips blue with the cold. Her hair! It was bleached and cut short. Black locks filled the sink. What had she done to herself? Angrily I bent down next to her and shook her hard, trying to pry her out. She wouldn't budge. All she did was sit and stare. Frustration got the better of me.

"I thought you were dead?!"

"Why would you do that to me!" I rubbed my temple as I sat back on my heels. As a wave of relief washed over me.

"I'm sorry..." She whimpered.

Gently I helped her up and out of the shower, grabbing a rough towel. Carefully I rubbed and dabbed at her arms and legs to help warm her. I turned as she undid her dress, letting it slide to the floor. She stood, hair now fluffy and full. I watched, completely transfixed as her lips turned from pale pink to hot.

Her cream silk slip clung to her body, perfectly loose at her waist yet tight around her ample bust. She really did have a figure to die for, even better than some of the Hollywood movie stars. Marilyn Monroe had nothing on her. She awkwardly turned, blushing as I ungraciously tugged off my Capri pants, stopping to boyishly peel off my jumper. I slid into the double bed, thanking the Lord that the sheets were soft and cool.

When she turned back she timidly crawled onto the bed, laying next to me. After a while I could hear her breaths deepen and become even as she dreamed. Her cheeks were flushed, her lashes dark from crying. I never knew pain could look this beautiful.

After a few hours I felt the bed begin to shake as she tossed and turned. She cried silently, her shoulders trembling as she hunched herself into a small ball. Instinctively I placed my hand comfortingly on the small of her back. She shuddered into my palm as her cries became audible. I had never seen crying quite like this. It was heartbreaking to watch. I was hit by the sudden realisation that we were still strangers. That I knew nothing about her. My hand flew back towards my chest as if I'd touched hot coals.

Marina must have woken up at this point, as the crying suddenly ceased. She turned still half asleep and sighed. She was so close, nose to nose, in fact. I could see every freckle, every line of her face. The way her lips curved and rounded, I could even count every eyelash. She leaned her head into the crook of my neck, her hot breath tickling the base of my throat. I daren't move. Laying completely still I found myself stroking her hair. Addictively pulling my fingers through the strands, from the very root of her head to the freshly cut tips. I felt her smile into my collar bone.

When I woke I found my hand had moved from her head to her waist. Our legs were intertwined. Her thigh pushed hard against my crotch. Her arm was wrapped tightly around my ribs, her hand resting on my shoulder blade. We were held so tightly together, that our heartbeats melted into one. Holding her in my arms like this felt more natural than my own voice.

I wondered sheepishly, was this love?