“Leave you?”
“With our parents. You went to college and never came back.”
“Claire is your sister?”
I cross my arms. “You know that.”
She takes a step back, putting space between us. “I’m Dr. Sofia Hanson. Would you prefer to call me Sofia or Dr. Hanson, Kenzi?”
Right. The play. It’s so hard to focus with my sister back from the dead.
“Would you like to talk about Claire?”
“You are Claire.”
She nods. “But we’re in our parts, remember. Talk about your sister to me as if I were a doctor and not her.”
“How does this help the performance?”
“The more I know you, the better I can play my part when we’re on stage together.”
I guess that makes sense. “Shouldn’t we be practicing?”
“We have plenty of time.”
“Is that what Laurel said?”
Claire nods.
I suppose it would be helpful to start thinking of her as Dr. Sofia Hanson. I don’t want to pull myself out of my part while on stage.
“Would you like to sit and talk? Or we can go somewhere else.”
“Where? Another dressing room?” I can’t remember having been anywhere other than here. That terrible nurse keeps locking me in.
“I have a dressing room with a couch and chairs. Does that sound nice?”
“You’d let me leave here?”
“While we work on our lines, yes.”
“What about after?”
“Then we all have to practice our lines in our own rooms.”
I frown. “Laurel’s behind that decision?”
“She’s the director?”
“Yes. You haven’t met her?”
“Not yet. I hear she’s very busy.”
“That would explain why she hasn’t even stopped by to see how I’m doing.” I sigh.
Dr. Hanson nods. It’s easier to think of her as that than Sofia. I’ll never think of her as having any other first name besides Claire. She glances toward the door. “Everyone is waiting to see her. Would you like to see my office? I mean, my dressing room?”
“Sure. I’m tired of running my lines, anyway.”