She's been everybody else's girl, maybe one day she'll be her own.
Sydney sat at her desk, silently trying to prepare Nadia's eulogy while Isabelle was taking one of her four hour naps. She'd been up with her most of the night, and although Sydney was exhausted herself, she couldn't bring herself to rest. Guilt racked at her mind, preventing sleep and giving her the opportunity to try to put the loss into words.
Words that refused to come.
Sydney knew what her sister had meant to her. The significance of Nadia's presence in her life was something that she knew she could have easily expressed to others, if not for the events surrounding her death. Her murder.
Sloane's actions angered her beyond comprehension. Never before had Sydney felt so foolish. To have trusted him, and convinced Nadia to do the same--to repeat the one mistake she'd sworn she would never commit again--had cost her sister her life. Sydney didn't know how she was going to face Nadia's friends after what she'd done, but it wasn't a responsibility that she would have ever been willing to pass off to someone else. Writing her eulogy was one of the only things that Sydney had left to do for her sister.
She'd see Sloane eventually, but Sydney was wise enough to leave those concerns for later. Instead she took out her cell phone and clicked into her voice mails, playing Nadia's last message to her over again.
"Sydney, I know you won't get this for at least a few hours, but I visited Katya. I know how you feel about her, and after the last visit I had with her I wanted to agree. I just had to see someone familiar, someone that reminded me of Mom. Either way, I thought you would like to know that she did wish you well, you and Isabelle. It was sincere, Sydney. She apologized to me as well. We can talk more when you get home. Good luck."
She tapped her pen against the desk, unsure what it was about the message that she found equally unsettling and soothing. The previous times she'd listened to it, Sydney had determined it to be the promise of a conversation she would never be able to have. She'd miss talking to Nadia, and the time they'd had together just didn't seem like enough, of course it hurt. But with the way the phone call was nagging at her, Sydney knew that wasn't it.
She tried to play the events out in her head, hoping to put the issue to rest. Nadia had called her while she was in Ghana, after she'd visited Katya and before going to see Sloane. She'd probably taken Sydney's comments to heart, and after seeing Katya, had wanted to visit her father and see if she could make peace with him.
But a visit to Sloane wasn't mentioned in her message, and considering what they'd talked about, Sydney thought that Nadia would have brought it up. Either way, she needed to retrace Nadia's steps and see for herself.
Sydney turned off her phone and slipped it back into her pocket, turning her attention back to the notes she'd started on Nadia's service.
She'd go pay a visit to Kayta in the morning, and for the remainder of the night, she'd work on writing Nadia's eulogy. If she was lucky, Isabelle wouldn't wake up for at least another two hours.
Words that refused to come.
Sydney knew what her sister had meant to her. The significance of Nadia's presence in her life was something that she knew she could have easily expressed to others, if not for the events surrounding her death. Her murder.
Sloane's actions angered her beyond comprehension. Never before had Sydney felt so foolish. To have trusted him, and convinced Nadia to do the same--to repeat the one mistake she'd sworn she would never commit again--had cost her sister her life. Sydney didn't know how she was going to face Nadia's friends after what she'd done, but it wasn't a responsibility that she would have ever been willing to pass off to someone else. Writing her eulogy was one of the only things that Sydney had left to do for her sister.
She'd see Sloane eventually, but Sydney was wise enough to leave those concerns for later. Instead she took out her cell phone and clicked into her voice mails, playing Nadia's last message to her over again.
"Sydney, I know you won't get this for at least a few hours, but I visited Katya. I know how you feel about her, and after the last visit I had with her I wanted to agree. I just had to see someone familiar, someone that reminded me of Mom. Either way, I thought you would like to know that she did wish you well, you and Isabelle. It was sincere, Sydney. She apologized to me as well. We can talk more when you get home. Good luck."
She tapped her pen against the desk, unsure what it was about the message that she found equally unsettling and soothing. The previous times she'd listened to it, Sydney had determined it to be the promise of a conversation she would never be able to have. She'd miss talking to Nadia, and the time they'd had together just didn't seem like enough, of course it hurt. But with the way the phone call was nagging at her, Sydney knew that wasn't it.
She tried to play the events out in her head, hoping to put the issue to rest. Nadia had called her while she was in Ghana, after she'd visited Katya and before going to see Sloane. She'd probably taken Sydney's comments to heart, and after seeing Katya, had wanted to visit her father and see if she could make peace with him.
But a visit to Sloane wasn't mentioned in her message, and considering what they'd talked about, Sydney thought that Nadia would have brought it up. Either way, she needed to retrace Nadia's steps and see for herself.
Sydney turned off her phone and slipped it back into her pocket, turning her attention back to the notes she'd started on Nadia's service.
She'd go pay a visit to Kayta in the morning, and for the remainder of the night, she'd work on writing Nadia's eulogy. If she was lucky, Isabelle wouldn't wake up for at least another two hours.