Memories
She’s not sure why she noticed him. He wasn’t standing out in anyway, not the center of a large crowd or shying away from it, simply off to the side a little, talking quietly to one of the teachers. But something about him screamed different. Something about him screamed “I’ve seen things the rest of you couldn’t even imagine.”
She made a point of intercepting him after he’d finished speaking, of introducing herself.
“So which kid is yours?” she asked cheerfully.
“Molly,” he answered. The name was unfamiliar, but she did vaguely remember hearing something about a new girl in his class. “You?”
“I’m here for my nephew,” she replied. “Kyle.” She pointed him out, where he was eagerly showing off his A* paper to everyone and anyone who would acknowledge his existence. Next to him, an Arabic girl was absently playing with her braids. “Is that Molly next to him?”
“No, Molly is the redhead, over there,” he pointed to the corner, where a small group of girl was playing some sort of hand-clapping game. The only red-haired girl was standing a little off to the side, watching the others play.
“She’s adopted,” he explained, misinterpreting the expression on her face. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I actually introduced myself. Dr. Mohinder Suresh.”
Oh. Oh. That’s why he seemed different. She held out her hand. “Bridget Bailey. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
His eyes widened very, very slightly in recognition, but other than that he gave no indication that he recognized her name. “I’m sorry?” he asked politely.
“We were exchanging emails. Regarding my… abnormalities,” she pressed. She was a tall woman, but he was just about average in height- she used the fact that they were nearly the same size with her heels to her advantage, drawing herself up. “Several months ago, you stopped suddenly.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, but there was an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before, a warning. “You must have me confused with someone else.”
“Oh don’t think so,” she contradicted him. “I mean, how many Dr. Mohinder Suresh’s are there in the world?”
“More than you’d think,” he answered evasively. “It’s not exactly an uncommon name.”
Alright. So he didn’t want to acknowledge that they knew each other. Fine by her, she could play that game. “But you are a geneticist, aren’t you?”
“I wish,” he muttered, and she could her a note of genuine longing in his voice. “I teach biology up at the high school. Speaking of which, our Parent-Teacher night is just about the begin, so if you’ll excuse me.”
He made to move past her, and she couldn’t help herself; she let her fingers brush against the sleeve of his coat…
It was dark. A hand reached out for a coat hook, but stopped suddenly. There was the sound of muffled sniffling coming from somewhere nearby.
“Hello?” he asked. His other arm fumbled for the light switch. “Molly, is that-”
The lights snapped on. Molly was curled up in a small ball on the floor of the closet, face puffy and tear-stained.
“Molly,” he cooed, falling to his knees so that he could look directly at her. “What’s wrong?”
“I miss Matt,” she whimpered.
“Oh, I know sweetheart, I know,” he soothed, putting his arms around her. “I do too.”
The vision ended. Mohinder avoided her eyes, but something about the tensing off his muscles told her that he had some idea about what she’d done.
Silently, she watched as he collected his daughter and picked his way out of the room, which suddenly seemed much too loud and cheerful.