1Previously...
'So…is it true?' She asks, voice low and inviting confidence, faintly leaning towards me. As if I hadn't seen her use that very same trick on countless other…friends. 'Did Samuel…?' [...]
'Leave me? Why, yes. You missed the biggest scandal of the year, darling. Samuel is with that pretty brunette from across the river now.'
She's startled. She didn't expect me to be so blunt about it, but I've been playing this game for a long time. Don't let them see the tears, show them nothing. You just have to hide the hurt and pretend you are still whole, perfect, polished. You'll be torn apart if you don't.
She recovers, putting her hand over her mouth in surprise and drawing her eyebrows slightly upwards.
'Oh, dear. Oh, dear.' She blinks slowly, as if shaking off the shock. 'I had hoped it was just a rumor… How are you?' Her voice is soft, and if I didn't know better I'd think she is genuinely worried about me.
She reaches towards me, but lets the hand fall back onto her lap when I raise my cup, putting my arm away from her reach. It's all very smooth –never let them see- but we're both aware of what, exactly, hasn't been said.
I sip again, stalling for time, because I really have no idea how to answer that one. How am I feeling? Humiliated, and hurt, and betrayed, and like nothing was ever real or meant anything. I'm drowning in doubt and pain and heartbreak. Wouldn't you, if you visited your fiancé only to find him getting intimate with another woman?
But I can't tell her that. I've known Christine since we were both chubby little babies, and she hasn't changed one bit. She'd pounce on any weakness, happy to rise up the social ladder at my expense and offering me a pity-filled smile as she stabs me in the back.
As Mother used to say, ladies keep it together even when they are falling apart, and it's the only way to keep the sharks away.
'Oh, you know.' I answer casually. 'It could be worse. At least she is not prettier than me.'
'Oh dear.' She lets out a startled little laugh. 'Yes, that would have been a problem.' She bites into one of Martha's signature pastries, gathering her wits to prepare another attack. 'Still, he seemed so in love with you… I can not believe he left you for somebody else.'
Ouch. That little bitch, hit right where it hurts, won't you? Too bad I have a defense ready for that one.
'Oh, well, he didn't really leave me. I called off the engagement.' And if it sounds airy, matter-of-fact, it's because I've been playing the game since before I could talk and I'm fucking good at it, but it takes all I have to say it and leave it like that.
Christine takes the bait, of course. While she's fierce opposition in our petty little games, we haven't had to match wits in a long time, and while I've kept sharp she relies on her beauty just a tad too much. Mother liked to say all the make-up in the world won't make you look twenty when you're eighty-three, so you better have more than one trick up your sleeve, and I'm not stupid enough to ignore Mother's advice.
'You did?' It may look politely confused to an outsider, but she's taken aback and it's showing. Christine is not quite on top of her game today. Wonder why? Something's happened, something I haven't heard about yet. It takes a lot more effort than it should to keep my mouth from curving into a predatory smile, but I manage. A new challenge is just what I need.
'Oh sweetheart, you didn't expect me to keep him after finding out he was consorting with that little bitch?' She has trouble keeping the grimace off her face at the endearment, which is of course the reason I use it. Christine is lethally acerbic when angered, but get her irritated and she becomes inexcusably sloppy. Mother would have washed her hands of me if I'd displayed such an obvious tell. 'I do not do sloppy seconds. No matter how prettily he begged.'
I dab at my lips with the napkin, starting to regret bringing it up. The memories aren't exactly pretty, and much too painful to bring up where they might show. But I have no choice. I can't give Christine an opening, I just can't fight an uphill battle right now. I wish mother hadn't taught me so well, sometimes. Wish I could just stay at home and break.
'Certainly not. You deserve better, dear.' She pats my hand, condescendingly, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from lashing out at her.
'You are taking things so well.' Her blond head turns, offering me a little smile, half admiring half jealous, but that's just hatred of what she can not have. 'It's just so…mature.' And I smile and pretend I feel nothing inside but serenity and a tiny bit of sadness, because that's appropriate. Not grief, not going crazy over this. It's just a breakup. 'Why, I don't think I could have taken it so well if my fiancé left me right before the wedding for another woman.'
So she's choosing to ignore the fact that it was me who didn't take him back and gave him the boot. She can probably get away with it too; I am the one left single not three weeks before my wedding, while he no doubt will soon parade his new beau all around town. But I can not afford to think about that now; I have Christine to contend with. I can almost hear Mother admonishing me, her nails digging in my arm as maroon lips spit in my ear "Get a grip and start acting like a lady".
'I couldn't settle for anything less than perfect, Christine. You know how I am; I simply can not tolerate such faults in my relations.' I reply with a little self-depreciating smile, and underneath the make-up she pales. I too know to hit where it hurts.
So, for some reason this story is stuck in my head, which is a problem because I've lived all my life more on the other side of the fence (defending myself from vultures like this) and I have trouble picturing how they might speak with each other. If I get inspired I'll keep on, if not I think this story is going to end up in the discarded bin, where it probably belongs. The characters are too strong-headed and malicious to my taste. *facepalm*