By Any Other Name

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By Any Other Name

A Short Story in Two Parts

Part One
The Evil That Men Do

 

My name is Susan Fraser; who I am doesn’t mean anything to you. I live a quiet life with my best friend, Nicole. Nicole is everything I am not. She is one of those people who go through life with no effort. Being outgoing, popular, attractive, confident, and well-rounded comes naturally to her. She oozes self-confidence and has a charismatic air about her that draws people to her. A room will feel more alive as soon as she enters it.

She is my best friend, my soulmate, and the person I aspire to be. We’re mirror images of each other, if it’s one of those distorted funhouse ones. So what am I like?

Imagine the absolute, complete opposite of Nicole, and you’ll find me. I am the introverted, shy, plain, and unsure girl who scurries through life hiding in the shadows. The one who lives life from one embarrassment to the next, face blushing fiercely, mumbling in a soft voice that no one hears, and making the quickest exit I possibly can to escape any social situation. I am a wallflower, one of the invisible people who drift through life, trying desperately to blend in with the background. I am anything but well rounded.

The fact that Nicole and I are friends is nothing short of a miracle, and I have no delusions that I had anything to do with it. It was one of those moments when life or God, perhaps, decides it is a good day to mess with things; throwing two sides of a coin and two complete opposite ends of the spectrum together just to see what transpires. I am well aware that if it were not for Nicole, I would be friendless. She is very protective of me, as if I am the little pet project that she must keep safe at all times. I must admit I like my role of ‘she who must be protected’ a little too much and have become more than comfortable with Nicole being the leader of our two-member pack.

I work in the office at a local doctor’s clinic, and while it may not be the best job in the world, I have managed to keep it for several years now.

What I lack in social skills, I seem to have made up for in abundance in organizational skills, which suits this job perfectly. My brain just thrives on lists of appointments, times, dates, patient names, phone numbers, and matching lab results and prescriptions to said patients. I would much rather deal with all those lists, keying them into the computer, avoiding actually interacting with said patients any day. The doctor makes me nervous when he is around me; for that matter, everyone makes me nervous. He might have a nice bedside manner with his patients, but he is arrogant and lords it over his staff. I try not to flinch under his gaze too much, though.

I have the luxury of being in the back of the reception area, almost in the bathroom really, which suits me fine. There is no such solitude upon me now, however. The one afternoon of the week I hate intensely is Friday afternoon, when the front receptionists apparently have important work to do in the examination rooms, leaving me sitting at the front desk. I paste on my friendly smile, greeting all the hassled mothers with runny-nosed kids, elderly men and women who cannot hear a word I am saying, and young men who act as if they are not sick, but they are here anyway.

Every so often, I steal glances back at my perfectly tidy desk in the back, longing to run and hide there. The clock does its slow, steady march from one minute to the next, and time passes at a snail’s pace, inching closer to 5pm. Normally that would mean freedom, but not today.

Today’s my birthday, and the women I work with are dragging me to the local bar. I am not comfortable with this at all, but there is no way out of it.

The patients come and go with monotonous regularity. One snotty-nosed kid after another needing some antibiotics. One overprotective mother followed by another who looks as if they would rather be anywhere but here. They sound the same; they look the same. They are the same and only their names differ.

I drag in the smell of the office, clean, sterile,