Havana Adams - Remember My Name

She showered quickly, throwing on clothes at breakneck speed. She skipped breakfast and was ready to head out in less than twenty minutes even though her brown hair hung in damp frizzy tendrils around her shoulders and face. It was a bright day and the sun already shone over London, with the weather forecast promising a fine summer’s day. As she passed the hallway mirror, Talia sighed as she caught a glimpse of her deep brown hair, which was already drying in untidy curls around her face; so much for the sleek look she’d hoped to present for the meeting that afternoon. Her eyes darted to the clock; she’d probably miss the train anyway, she might as well take the time to tame her hair. Decision made, Talia allowed her battered workbag, an ageing leather satchel, to drop to the floor and she made her way into her room, grabbing the hairdryer. As she vigorously dried her hair, a man emerged from Nina’s bedroom. Talia was relieved to see that he was dressed; they weren’t always. The man was heading out but he stopped as he spotted Talia through her open bedroom door.

“Hi,” Talia nodded at him, surprised that she actually recognised him. In the seven months she’d lived with Nina, she’d gained a breezy insouciance in dealing with strange men who never made a repeat appearance but this one, Javier, had been around several times in the last few weeks. If any man could make Nina give up her life of one-night stands, she supposed this was a pretty fine choice. He was tall, around 6ft, she guessed and could very well be in the dictionary next to the description for tall, dark and handsome.

“Good morning, Talia.” He smiled at her as he spoke, his voice deep with an accented inflexion that hinted at his Cuban roots. “Good party last night?”

Talia nodded. “I didn’t wake you when I came in, did I?” She felt a moment of guilt; perhaps she’d been less than considerate when she’d tottered in, unsteady in her heels.

“Of course not. It’s good to have some fun, no?” Javier smiled. “I’ll see you later,” he said as he moved to the front door.

She watched him go with a small twinge of irritation. Why did everybody think that she didn’t have any fun? She heard the front door open and close and she continued briskly straightening her hair till it framed her face. Digging into her bag, which was heavy with scripts, rehearsal drafts and story documents, Talia pulled out her battered make-up bag, the same one she’d carried for years. Most of the make-up contained in it hadn’t been changed in ages. She dabbed on some foundation and followed that with a dash of bronze eye shadow, an unevenly drawn line of black across her lids and then she pouted into the mirror as she layered a thick gloop of gloss on her lips. Talia smiled at the effect, it was rare for her to take the time to wear make-up and she’d always thought that one day she would like to take a make-up class and learn to apply it properly. After all the sacrifices she’d made to make it as a storyliner and cross over to writing, perhaps now she might get the chance to take that make-up class, or do yoga – maybe she’d finally do all those things she’d been meaning to do the last few years. Talia smiled a rueful smile; she wasn’t fooling herself. She was a workaholic, always had been. Whatever she turned her mind to had always consumed her. She glanced again at her watch; still a few minutes before she had to leave home to catch the next train to the studios. It was a sunny morning and she decided to walk slowly and grab a coffee on the way to the station. Just then Nina’s door opened once again.

Oomph! Before Talia could say anything she was enveloped in a hug from Nina.

“Morning, Tal.” Slowly Talia untangled herself from the embrace. She looked into her roommate’s face looking for some sign that might explain this utterly uncharacteristic display of affection.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. Nina laughed, that deep dirty laugh that wouldn’t be out of place in a smoky club but which in broad daylight always seemed slightly indecent and rather too filthy for company.

“Silly, nothing’s wrong,” Nina said as she took Talia by the arm and walked her to their open-plan kitchen. “Shall I make you a coffee?” Now Talia was worried, it was almost unheard of for Nina to offer to do anything to help anyone.

“Sure,” she murmured, even as Nina was already flicking the kettle on and casting around for a mug, looking like a stranger adrift in her own kitchen. Talia watched her with distracted confusion; it wasn’t that she didn’t care about Nina’s dramas, but she really didn’t want to miss her next train. Nina handed her a cup of comically white coffee and Talia sipped it warily, aware that her roommate watched her with what could only be described as a beatific smile on her face.

“So I have some news,” Nina smiled and suddenly Talia knew. She’d had enough of these conversations, after all. Like bottles falling off the wall, so too all the women of a certain age of her acquaintance were being picked off.

“Javier and I, we’re getting married.” The last words came out of Nina’s mouth in a squeal of drama and excitement and even though a wash of dismay filled her, Talia took her cue.

“Congratulations! Honey, congratulations.” She rushed around the kitchen table to press a hug on Nina. “Wow, that’s amazing.”

“Isn’t it?” Nina murmured wrapped in a cocoon of happiness. Now Nina held her hand with a nod of understanding in her eyes and Talia knew what was coming, what always followed. Dammit, she’d actually believed all of Nina’s “ I ’ m supposed to be single, I can ’ t do monogamy ” rubbish.

“The thing is, Tal, you know how much I love living with you it’s just that Javier and I, we’ve decided to move to Cuba.” For a moment Talia felt a surge of hope, perhaps she might stay in the flat and wouldn’t once again, for the fourth time in as many years, be required to pack her bags. “So I’ve decided to sell the flat.” The bubble of hope deflated quickly and Talia nodded what she hoped was a supportive nod. “I know you’ll find somewhere that’s just perfect for you.” Now Nina looked down, her long lashes resting on her cheekbones. “You’re not cross with me are you?”

She’s playing me, Talia thought with a flash of irritation. She’d seen Nina use that same look many times with men. “Don’t be silly. I’m just so happy for you.” At this her roommate breathed a sigh of relief.

“Great.” Then she looked seriously again at Talia. Now she wore her sincere expression, the one she used when talking about designer shoes. “Honey, I know you don’t like to talk about these things, but you’ll find your own prince… How’s Steven?” Talia’s smile had started to feel strained and at this mention of Steven whom she’d disastrously dated for five long months after meeting him on the dating site everafter.com. Talia felt the start of a headache. She hated when her newly engaged friends started to hand out relationship advice, like newly converted Christians determined to bring everyone else into the fold.

“Thanks, hon,” Talia murmured with false sincerity and her eyes darted again to her watch. “Listen, I’ve got to run to catch the train. But cocktails later to celebrate?”

“Yay,” Nina smiled. “Isn’t it your big appraisal today?” Talia started in surprise; Nina really was making an effort, she was rarely interested in anything that wasn’t about her.

“Yes, gotta run.” As she moved quickly towards the front door, her hardly-worn Mary Jane shoes clicking on the wood floors, Talia fought to get her mind back on work and away from Nina’s bombshell.

“Good luck,” she heard Nina call out as she slammed the front door shut.