"Dora. You're having a nightmare."
Dora?
The person moved toward her. Serene scooted her bottom back until she was up against the wall.
"Where's Ramani?"
The figure halted. "Dora. It's me, Erica. You're half asleep.
The haze of confusion was melting away, familiarity seeping in. Dora. I'm Dora. Serene felt her muscles begin to relax.
"I'm okay," she managed to say.
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I just need some dry clothes. I'm sweating."
"I'll go get you something," Erica said and turned to leave. Serene could feel her heart slowing down. The door was still open; in the light, she could see the thing in the corner was a desk. Before Erica helped her lay out this makeshift bed, they'd moved the chair out to the living room and pushed the filing cabinet against the wall next to the desk to create enough floor space. Erica returned with a second pair of pajamas.
"There's a lamp on your desk if you don't want to turn on the overhead light," she said, pausing at the door.
"Thank you," Serene replied, voice low. Erica waited a few more seconds before stepping out. Serene stood up, turned on the lamp and closed the door. She peeled off her damp PJs and put the dry ones on. Done, she stood for a moment, undecided on whether or not she should return to bed.
Ramani.
Eyes narrowed into slits of anger. You're lying!
Serene hugged herself, twisting her waist from side to side, squeezing her eyes shut.
You're lying. Fucking liar.
Picking up her phone, Dora opened her Facebook App, went to her page to the Friends tab and typed in Mara's name. Clicking on the image of the woman, she scrolled through her feed. She was a photographer––weddings, primarily. There were the usual pictures of family and friends. Dora was in a lot of the images. They had been close. Dora enlarged a photo of Mara at the beach with a man.
Enzo?
He was so old looking, the skin of his face weathered with vertical lines up and down his top lip, deep grooves around his mouth, bags under his eyes and a receding hairline. Greying hair fanned across his chest, but his body was still toned.
Dora's eyes wandered over to Mara, smiling for the shot, her blue eyes squinting from the sun, lips and cheeks plump in a way that reminded Dora of a plastic doll's face. They were sitting side by side under a shade umbrella, Mara's long slim legs stretched out. She didn't look like she'd birthed four kids. Dora scrolled to the next picture. It was another of her with Mara. They were at some event, dressed in evening wear, Erica and Cuppa with them as well. There was nothing familiar about this woman to Dora. Back when she was Serene, she doubted she would have been close to this Mara person who reminded Dora of a womanly version of Taylor.
Detective Anders had stopped by again to question her about Mara two days ago. Erica had been with her that time, sitting close to Dora like a guard monitoring the situation, losing her patience after a while and finally speaking up.
"She can't answer questions about the day Mara disappeared or the days leading up to her disappearance. Dora has amnesia. You know this. You've talked to her doctor and her psychotherapist. She can't help you. How can she tell you what she was doing the day Mara went missing when she can't even remember something as significant as being a mom and a wife? But I'll tell you one thing: she and Mara were good friends and Dora had no reason to want to hurt Mara. None."
The detective had listened to Erica's tirade, a slight frown on his face. His eyes had snaked over to Dora, skepticism emanating from him. He'd finally acquiesced, a tight smile passing briefly over his lips, and stood up.
"Alright, thank you." He'd stood, hesitating. "Mrs. Jones," he said to Erica. "A woman is missing. A mother. A wife. It's my job to investigate, to try and find out what's become of her."
Erica's face had softened. "We love Mara. Dora doesn't remember her, but when she does, she'll know, too, how much Mara meant to her, the friendship they have. We want Mara found. We want her safe, and if there is any way we can help, we will, only Dora can't answer your questions right now."
Dora closed her eyes. She'd left one era of her life as a suspect for a crime, only to be propelled twenty-four years into the future, possibly guilty of a different one. What did it all mean? She knew how the last investigation for Taylor's murder turned out. Darpan was in prison, the guilty party.
That dinner.
Kanani drunk, accusing Taylor of being a slut.
Enzo, lunging at Taylor.
Taylor, walking out the back door.
She'd left, too, needing air.
That night, she’d seen something she wasn't supposed to see. Darpan comforting Taylor, the intimate way he’d held her in his arms. But what had happened after that? In one instant, she remembered watching them, the next, she was at Enzo's, Taylor curled up on Enzo's sofa, a slick of drool sliding out of the corner of her mouth. Dora shuddered. She remembered looking at Steve, sharing the horror of that moment. His eyes had locked with hers, lips pulling in tight, mouth drooping as he bowed his head.
19
Serene - May 1996
"Stay for dinner." Carrie grabbed an extra plate out of the cabinet and thrust it into Serene's hand.
It smelled delicious. Spaghetti and meatballs, garlic bread and an iceberg lettuce salad. Serene snaked her eyes in the direction of Maggie, Steve and Carrie's mom. She was pulling the garlic bread out of the oven and her back seemed to stiffen as she placed the baking sheet on the stovetop and then she smiled. Serene wondered if she'd only imagined their mother's discomfort over Carrie's impromptu invitation to have dinner with their family.
"Of course you're welcome to stay," Maggie said, then added, "unless your mother wants
