Page 23 of The Life Experiment
On the bedside table, Layla’s phone buzzed. It had been sporadically ringing for the last few hours, but the effort required to pick it up was too much. All Layla wanted was to let her duvet swallow her whole. But when the intercom to her apartment buzzed moments later, all hope of fading into oblivion was shattered.
Shuffling to the door with her duvet wrapped around her shoulders like an empty hug, Layla spoke into the intercom’s microphone. ‘Hello?’
‘Layla, it’s Saira. Can you let me in?’
Layla blinked, waiting for the appearance of the head of The Life Experiment to make sense, but it didn’t. Saira lived in Birmingham, not London. Layla wasn’t supposed to see her until their counselling session in two days’ time. And, as someone who had read the terms and conditions of the experiment in detail, Layla didn’t remember anything about house calls.
‘Layla?’
Nudged into action, Layla buzzed Saira into the building. Moments later, dressed in the same pizza-stained pyjamas she had been wearing for days, Layla opened the door. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, blinking to check Saira wasn’t a mirage.
‘You didn’t turn in your questionnaire this morning. Given the news you received the other day, I was worried.’ Saira paused before speaking again. ‘Can I come in?’
Dumbstruck, Layla let Saira into her apartment.
Compact and functionally furnished, the space looked as though she had only recently moved in, not lived there for three years. But welcoming decor was for someone who had time to shop. With Layla’s work hours, she was barely ever at the apartment, despite paying eye-watering rent for the privilege of living there.
After circling the room and studying the closed curtains and empty pizza box on the coffee table, Saira faced Layla. ‘I would ask how you are, but I think I can answer that.’
‘I have two years left to live. How do you want me to be?’
Saira’s lips pressed together like there was more she wanted to say, but instead she went to the window and threw back the curtains. Light burned Layla’s bloodshot eyes, even though the grey October day couldn’t exactly be described as bright.
With the open curtains inviting the day into the apartment, Saira moved about the room, picking up an abandoned wineglass and empty bottle of shiraz.
‘What are you doing?’ Layla asked.
‘I figure the sooner I help, the sooner you get back on your feet and keep going.’
It took everything in Layla not to choke on the statement. ‘Keep going? How am I meant to do that?’
Saira stopped. ‘What else are you supposed to do?’
When Layla couldn’t answer, Saira headed for the kitchen.
Layla followed. ‘You can’t seriously expect me to carry on like I haven’t been given a death sentence?’
‘What else are you going to do – try every takeaway pizza London has to offer?’ Saira challenged as she dropped the rubbish in the bin. ‘Believe it or not, Layla, the aim of this experiment isn’t to tell people how to die. It’s to show them how to live.’
‘But I only have two years left.’
‘So? Some people only have two minutes. Do you think they’re spending it in the dark, drowning their sorrows?’
‘Maybe,’ Layla replied, but she cringed at the petulance in her voice. With a sigh, she rubbed her eyes. ‘I don’t know what to do, Saira. How am I meant to get out of bed? How am I meant to go to work? I feel like I should be on a beach somewhere downing cocktails, not stuck in an office.’
‘Okay, let’s start with that. Do you want to quit your job?’
‘Yes. No. I don’t know,’ Layla admitted. ‘Being a lawyer is all I know. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. I don’t know who I am without my career, but the idea of sitting at that desk and carrying on like there isn’t a countdown ticking in the back of my mind…’
As Layla trailed off, Saira softened. ‘Now isn’t the time for hasty decisions, Layla. There’s a lot to think of, especially in terms of practicality. Do you have the finances to support yourself if you did leave your job?’
Layla couldn’t help laughing. ‘Not even a little bit.’
‘Well then, it looks like you need to stay in work. For now, at least, but that’s okay. We can figure things out around it.’
Layla searched Saira’s face for a trace of uncertainty, but everything about her was composed. ‘Saira, I can’t,’ she whispered, feeling the all-too-familiar burn of tears once more.
‘Why not?’
