“I…” she began, sobbing. She swallowed and continued in a hoarse voice. “I thought it would be nice if I could clean the place. I wanted to do the bedroom – or at least, the corner with our mattresses, and I did yours out of the way and I found this.”

I couldn’t hold myself any longer. That picture in her hand was just plain wrong. It was as if I was afraid that she would contaminate it with who she was, as if she would influence the pureness that was Tina by just looking at her and holding the photograph. I snapped it out of her hands and it got fissured. It made me even more mad at her.

“Is this your girlfriend, Bette? Is this the girl you left Billy for?” She asked, sounding miserable.

I hesitated. I wanted to shout at her that she wasn’t my girlfriend, at least not anymore and that was her fault, but the thing is, it wasn’t. It was completely my fault.
I didn’t know what to say. If I told her how much I loved Tina, it would be as worse as telling her I was cheating on her. The hell with it, she was sleeping with others all the time, with men!

“That’s none of your business, Fiona.”

“Call me Jodi! Really, what is wrong in your head?” Her voice had changed, as if she fell out of a role. She returned to the pity-wanting hurt kid again, looking sad. “I’m sorry, I’m just really hurt. I had no idea.”

That very moment, the door of the flat/slump opened. I looked over my shoulder, had I left the door open? And who would come to visit us anyway?

It was someone I hadn’t seen before. It was a pale guy with a vile expression on his face. His blonde hair was in gel, combed flat on his head. His eyes were a light shade of grey. He was a true macho, even walking like one. His jeans were washed off and he wore a black leather jacket. I could imagine that girls would fall for his appearance, although I didn’t feel attracted to him at all.

“Jodi.” It was a statement, not a greeting. It still felt weird to hear her being called like that. To me, she would always be Fiona.