The Name I Call Myself by Beth Moran

clear eyes serious as he watched my face.
    â€œHow are you doing?”
    I nodded. “Fine. Thank you. I can’t believe you did that.”
    â€œWell.” He shrugged, with a wry smile. “I happened to be watching just as you fell. It was instinct. You landed on top of me before I even knew I’d moved.”
    I bit down hard on my lip as my chin wobbled. Dylan leaned down and squeezed my shoulder, briefly.
    â€œI’m just glad you’re safe.”
    Oh boy, how I longed to be safe. And when I thought about how his body had felt beneath me, as solid as the cliff face, his arms wrapped tight around my chest, I wondered how someone could feel so safe, and yet so dangerous, all at the same time.

    On the way home, hoping to avoid both conversation and Marilyn’s pointed stares, I asked Rosa if I could sit with her. As we rumbled back down the motorway towards Nottinghamshire, my wits slowly regathered themselves, and I asked Rosa what brought her to the UK.
    â€œMy husband. He is not a bad man, but he drive me crazy anyway. Spend all money on his crazy plans to make us rich. All bad plans. Nothing work. And now my girls grow up. One in America with soccer scholarship, one married to nice, boring man no crazy plans. I think, I can’t stand this any more. I done my duty. I done more than reasonable. But when I try to go, he cry and kiss me and I feel sorry for him and stay. This happen lots of times. Once I get all way to my sister’s house, he follow me there. That man so handsome. Like movie star. When he look at me I am like – what you say – hypnotized. I cannot resist. So, I wait till him off on next crazy plan, and I leave. Take secret money I saved and get bus out of there. Lots of days travelling, bus, car, lorry. I okay on lorry because I have knife. Big one, look.”
    She pulled out a butcher’s knife from her rucksack to show me. “I no let no more handsome men trick me into waste my life. Big knife keep them away.”
    I didn’t ask how she had got that monstrous knife into the country.
    â€œThen I meet man who gets me job in England. I share flat with three women. First we wash cars, then I get job clean offices. Now I work in factory, pack boxes. Not a lot of money but I get to keep it,spend on what I want. No crazy plans like build zoo or make film with Lego or sell pizza made with donkey cheese. I happy now. I miss my husband kisses, and his sexy eyes, but I happy.”
    â€œThat’s an amazing story. Did you have a job in Bulgaria?”
    â€œYes.” Rosa puffed up her chest. “I seamstress. Best in my city. Make clothes for all important people. Dress for daughter of Prime Minister when she got married. I make this dress. Best wedding dress in whole of Bulgaria. I get good money for all these clothes I make, but my crazy husband throw it all away.”
    â€œCould you get a job as a seamstress here?”
    â€œMaybe. But I need samples. Need good machine, material, thread, scissors. All that stuff. I’m at factory all day, too tired to think about anything else. If I had good machine in my house, those women sell it. I need break, and no one going to give old Bulgarian woman break. That okay, I happy.”
    I leaned my head against the window and watched the trees whizz by at the side of the road. A crazy plan, not quite as crazy as donkey cheese pizza, popped into my head.
    â€œDid you know I’m getting married this summer?”
    â€œYes. We all know this. Janice heard your man shout in church about it too poor and ugly.”
    â€œOh. Right. I don’t think that quite… Anyway. Would you like to make my bridesmaid dresses for me? I can’t pay you much, but I can chip in enough to buy you all the stuff you need. If we got a decent machine second-hand. And you can have the dresses afterwards, use them as samples.”
    And me! my heart whispered. Make me a lovely dress, too!
    Rosa gripped my hand in