Monday morning. Leah wakes up early-ish, by her new life’s standards, to go to the noon wrestling class. She remembers while there to cancel her reserved class for next Saturday, and shift it instead to the following Wednesday.

This is the eighth class she’s attended, the seventh she’s had to pay for. At this point she is getting comfortable with many of the moves, and also with many of her classmates, though she still struggles with their names.

The teacher comments on her progress, complimenting her footwork and ability to keep within the ring. Leah remembers having to obey the same boundary rules in the faire, and smirks. Some things you never forget, I guess.

Towards the end of it, nearing one o’clock, Leah is running through a kneeling move with her partner when she is hit with a splitting headache, right at the front of her skull. Her partner notices the change, and breaks off the move.

“Oh Jesus Leah, everything okay?” he asks, looking at her expression.

“Uh…maybe?” Leah says, massaging her forehead. She cannot remember ever having a headache like this without some obvious external source – a punch, a fall, something. We weren’t sparring that roughly, were we? He barely jostled me on that run through. Even thinking makes the pain spike.

Her classmate looks almost frightened. “Go take a break, drink some water. Put your head between your knees. You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, it’ll pass,” Leah says, faintly, hoping that it’s true. She follows his advice, though doubting its relevance to her situation, and in a minute the headache fades, finally disappearing entirely. Returning to the mat, she finishes the class without further incident.

After changing back into her street clothes, Leah is caught by the teacher, waiting for her at the exit of the changing room to confirm that everything is alright. She’d noticed the pause, but since it didn’t last long and didn’t seem to be muscle related she hadn’t wanted to interrupt at the time.

“It’s fine, it was just a sudden headache,” Leah says with a shrug.

“Do you get doze offten? It can be ha sign of a serious problem. You should go to de ospital, just in case.”

“No no, this was a first. Although, I did have a strong dizzy spell, a few days ago…”

“You should listen when your body tell you dere’s someting wrong.” The teacher seems sincerely concerned, and reaches out to rub Leah’s upper arm. Leah’s knees nearly buckle from the intimacy of that touch, but she knows it’s only friendly concern.

“I don’t even know where the nearest hospital is…”

“You don’ ave a family doctor?” At Leah’s confused headshake, she looks extra concerned and continues. “Go to de CLSC hup on prince and de la concorde den, firs. But you really should fin a family doctor, if you wan any pill hor prescription.”

Leah nods, tries to memorise the rapidly recited street names, and swings by the library on her way back to the apartment. Looking at the map, she finds the named street corner, and sees that it’s barely out of the way of her usual walk to and from work. The librarian asks what she’s looking for this time, and Leah talks with her about doctors and clinics and hospitals. The librarian explains the differences, and the process for showing up and requesting an appointment, and the importance of a family doctor even for just regular check-ups.

“You know, hon,” the librarian says after all this, “I love that you’re always in here, and broadening your horizons, but sometimes I feel like the questions you have…why don’t you ask your parents, or your teachers? You might be covered by your parents’ insurance plan after all, and that would really change things. Maybe you’re still with their family doctor, and if you’re not, why?”

Leah feels very cornered, but does not panic. “I’ve been out of contact with my parents for a while. Besides, I’m more comfortable doing my own research in peace – and nobody ever judges me for being here! I sometimes wish I could show this to my old friends…one in particular, she’d love it here.”

“Well, why not bring them by?”

Leah hesitates. “I left them behind when I came here. It’s a long story.”

“Want to talk about it?”

The librarian has such a friendly face in this moment, that Leah almost caves. “Nah, it’s fine. I knew what I was doing when I chose this place. It’s taken me a while to understand the consequences, but what’s done is done.”

The librarian is visibly confused by this cryptic response, but accepts it. “Well, if you ever feel unsure, I’m here to listen.”

Leah thanks her, and leaves to go have supper at home then swing by the CLSC in advance of her work shift.

At the front desk they ask for her Medicare card. Leah thinks the colours are vaguely familiar, and she fumbles through her wallet, looking for something that matches the picture on the wall. She finds it and shows it; the woman at the desk gives her a waiting number and tells her to take a seat.

A few minutes pass. When called to the nurse’s office for triage, she tells the nurse that she’s here about strong headaches and sudden dizzy spells. The nurse asks her to rate the pain on a one-to-ten scale – Leah compares it to past wounds and headaches and decides to place it between a six and an eight – then fires off a series of questions about her health history: if she smokes or drinks, if she’s on any medication, if she or anyone in her family has a history of epilepsy, if she or anyone in her family has a history of migraines, if she’s possibly pregnant. Having confirmed that there are no obvious causes, the nurse advises she make an appointment with her family doctor.

“I don’t know if I have one…” Leah begins.

The nurse purses her lips, but seems sympathetic. “Well, there’s little that can be done without one.”

Leah remembers the family visit planned for the coming weekend. “I’ll know after this weekend, though; should I come back here then?”

“No; you should make an appointment directly with your family doctor. They’ll be able to give you whatever referral you need.”

Leah thanks the nurse and leaves. She arrives at work very early, despite her detour, and loiters around the neighbouring building until the boss arrives to unlock the club. Looking through the windows of the next-door building, she sees Amber sitting at a table, and curiosity moves her to enter and talk to her.

The building is a restaurant; Leah looks at the food on the various tables and is intrigued, but not overly tempted. Amber notices her almost immediately, and calls her over. There is someone else at the table with her, and they are sharing a mostly emptied plate of dumplings.

Leah navigates a path between the tables and joins them for a moment, saying hello. The smell of steamed vegetables and strong herbs rises from the plate on the table, totally foreign to her nose. Amber introduces Tiffany, who works weekends and who originally got Amber the job at the club.

“You look familiar…” Tiffany says, looking Leah over. “Did you go to LaSalle College?”

Leah’s face goes blank, partially from fear and partially from un-recognition. In the silence that follows Tiffany’s question, Amber pipes up that Leah has just arrived in Canada, and is working at the club on weekdays. Tiffany seems convinced she knows Leah’s face, but does not question the ‘immigration’ story in front of them. She wishes Leah a good shift, and hopes to see her again.

“I’ll figure out where it is I know you from, eventually,” she says with a grin.

Leah gives a forced smile and a polite goodbye, and leaves on unsteady legs. It was one thing for my family from this world to suddenly arrive back in my life; I can just play along anytime I’m with them, and go back to my old ruse when I return to the city. But if someone in the city recognises me from before the switch, especially someone related to work, then my whole story might fall apart – along with it my friendships and my financial stability.

Setting up the club for the shift, she is forced to address the elephant in the room: what this world is.

I’ve always known this world was fundamentally different to mine, and that’s becoming more and more apparent the longer I spend here. I can even almost remember why it happened…the girl at the laundrette, what did she say her name was?

I knew from the first time I looked in a mirror that this wasn’t my body, but I never really stopped to consider that that means it used to be someone else’s. Who was she? How many people did she know? What happens if one of them comes into the club and starts talking to me about old memories, memories I don’t share? Will they think I’m insane? Or lying? Will the girls think I’m lying?

Is it a big deal that I’ve been lying?

Gods, what if she had responsibilities that I haven’t discovered yet? What if I have expenses I don’t know about? That doctor thing, for instance?

What if she had a partner? Have I been neglecting someone just because I didn’t know she existed? No, surely any girlfriend would have come by to ask why she was being ignored; I certainly would.

“You okay Leah?” Samuel, the early-week bartender, taps Leah’s shoulder as he asks it. “You look a bit upset.”

“Just distracted. I’ve got a family thing this weekend, and then I might need to go see a doctor.”

“Heh, I feel the same after spending time with my family.”

Leah laughs politely, but does not continue the conversation. Samuel seems to pick up on her mood, though not its cause, and they drift off to their respective work areas.

As the night progresses, she moves away from glum thoughts and focuses on doing her job efficiently and unnoticed by the clients. Her forced distraction becomes a true distraction, and she is able to focus on the present moment without troubling questions about the past and the future.

Towards the mid-point of the night, she asks Samuel how tips are supposed to be divided. He waits for the nearest customers to withdraw before answering. “Technically it’s supposed to be between the bartenders, but since the boss has been tending bar until we hire someone extra, it’s been just me.”

Leah feels like she maybe ought to request to be included, but does not want to be pushy; besides, Samuel seems to be anticipating some sort of request to share the money, and is holding on to the recently collected pile of coins rather possessively.

Soon it’s Amber’s turn on the stage-ish area. Leah watches, and really looks this time; not so much at the feats of strength and flexibility on the pole, but at the crowd’s reactions, their shouts. She surprises herself by feeling a sudden protective impulse.

Amber passes by the bar shortly afterwards, with a smile for Leah, and asks for a particular type of champagne. “Got a high-spender; not many of those this time of the week.”

Leah fetches and hands over the bottle. “You eat before going on that stage?”

“Hm? Nah, I usually have supper around six, don’t want to get acid reflux while upside down. Today was an exception, because Tiff wanted to catch up, and she only gets off her day-job at seven. Gotta go!” She turns and hurries over to a pair of men, and accompanies them with a bright smile into one of the private booths off to the side.

Leah tries not to think of it, but unfortunately in trying to distract herself she remembers Valerin again. I’d never had to fend anyone away from Kimry – that Nentish girl was fierce enough to look after herself, even if someone had been foolish enough to go against the unspoken rules of celibate servitude. Anyone foolish enough to try anything against one of the five – especially Iris – would soon find himself unconscious in a riverbank, missing at least one appendage. Jeno… Her feelings there are complicated, as usual. She was too fond of me, and I let it get too far, I know. The girl was destined for a political marriage, and I had felt helpless to save her. Although, from all I’d seen of Samson Valerid the boy is timid to a fault and unlikely to harm her – more likely to idolise and cosset her.

She runs her thumb over the opal ring, which she has started wearing almost constantly. She wonders what has changed since she left. By her count, the wedding should have already happened, and the Auzzo delegation would likely be leaving soon. Leah wonders if that strange captain will be returning to stay with Jeno, in Leah’s absence. Certainly he is devoted to Jeno, even more than to the girl’s parents. Leah isn’t sure about her feelings surrounding him, either; he’d always seemed to know more than he let on, but his protectiveness of Jeno had made her trust him. I wish I’d pried deeper, there…but it’s not my problem anymore. I’ve given up my claim to that world, it seems.

The night progresses. Amber does her classic one-am change, going from prim and reserved to wild, with the dramatic hair toss and its accompanying cheers from the watchers. Leah does not look, and focuses on drying the glasses. The dishwasher only speaks French, and the two work in silence – relative silence, that is. The music of the club is impossible to escape, even in the back rooms.

Cleaning up during the close, they get done a little earlier than usual. Annabelle – Hiroe – asks Leah if she wants to try out the pole. “It’s just like monkey bars, only vertical, and there’s just one.”

Leah pleads soreness from gym class and work, and instead heads home, in a mood. At around quarter to five she arrives home, and settles in to bed immediately, staring up at the ceiling.

Why did I ever hate my old life? I’d give almost anything to listen to Meredith over-explain something to me again. I miss Vivi’s patience, her willingness to back us no matter what dumb plan we came up with, and how she’d wait until we were just about ready to go before pointing out the obvious flaws.

She gets up and paces with nervous energy, then goes to sit out on the balcony. The pre-dawn is muggy and warm, and smells acrid with something Leah has learned is called “cigarette.” The air feels like it might rain tomorrow; it would be one of the first rainy days she’d seen, here, if it did.

Going back inside, she notices that the cell phone her ‘mother’ had made such a fuss about has a faint flashing light in one corner. Leah checks it, and sees that she has a huge number of text messages from various people – some with names, some just a string of numbers. Without thinking, her thumb runs in a spiral pattern over the screen.

Momentarily distracted by this reminder of muscle memory, Leah open the messages the way she has seen people at work do, touching icons and somehow having them respond.

“You ok?” No other context, no previous messages, no name at the top of the conversation. “Your mum’s pretty worried about you, and you haven’t been online in a few weeks.”

Next one. “Is everything alright?” This comes after a string of other short messages, stemming from each side of the screen; some from old Leah and some from the mystery person apparently called ‘Denny.’ The old conversations seem to be mainly gripes about public transit and plans to meet for a movie.

“Would you be free for a game night this weekend?” This text is from a couple weeks ago, it seems, from a ‘Best-Boi.’ “Just the usual crew. Hello? Hellooo? bruh wtf.”

“Hey Leah, it’s Ann. You’ve been out of contact for a while apparently, is everything ok?” There are no messages before this in the conversation.

Leah does not respond to any of them, but simply reads through them all, one at a time.

“Your monthly bill is ready. Amount due is $41.08. To pay your bill, go to…” The message then dissolves into incomprehensible blue text of numbers and letters.

Ah. A new expense. Lovely. How prescient of me. I’ll have to ask that lovely librarian what to do about this, and hope that it’s not too dumb of a question.

She puts the phone back down, and returns to bed, mulling things over.

Nothing so far has been insurmountable. I think I’m overreacting. I can make it here. I can fit in. Whatever the cause, I think being sent here is a blessing in disguise. A vacation. A liberation.

And now she’s thinking of Kimry again, and it hurts.

No. Stop it. I can’t be everyone’s saviour. Someone else will come along for them. I’ve been rescuing people and inspiring people for long enough; for once, I’d like to be inspired.

*

She wakes up, stretches, and breathes in the smell of the street. Still muddled by sleep, it takes her a few seconds to realise that that’s not normal. She sits up straight, wondering where the smell is coming from, and leaves to check out the rest of the apartment.

The balcony door was left open a crack, she discovers. She locks it, then does a thorough top-down search of the apartment, to make sure no-one got in.

How ridiculous; they’d have had to scale a wall in plain view of the whole street and all the neighbouring houses. Even Kain wouldn’t dare.

Even after reassuring herself that no-one got in – other than a few mosquitoes, she realises, as their bites begin to make themselves known – she still feels shaken at the irresponsibility of her sleep-deprived self. She gets dressed, does her morning workout, and heads to the library to resolve the issue of the mystery expense.

It is not raining, though she hadn’t really expected it to, but it is very overcast and miserable. She arrives at the library, explains her trouble, and the librarian assigns an intern to help out with getting Leah’s phone “connected” to the “wifi.”

Leah waits patiently at a table, and finally a voice near her shoulder asks, “You needed help connecting to the internet?”

She turns to look at the speaker, and feels a slight tug of recognition; the familiar face, hair, smile, eyes…

“Tiffany?”

Tiffany hesitates, then beams. “That shirt! I knew I remembered you.”

“Huh?”

“Leeloo! Damn, how’ve you been?”