HER
It is a law of the universe: the people you most want to avoid always appear exactly where you least want them.
So, of course, I run into Sara.
When the singing, and Aleksi, is just too much to bear, I slip out to the courtyard.
I stand under the milky moon and drink in breaths of the cool night air. My hand presses firmly to my sternum, heart pounding against it. Soft piano notes flow through the open door, chasing me even here. Summer stars blink down at me.
That's when I smell it. Smoke.
I glance over just in time to see a flash of red hair before I hear my name, well, one of my names.
"Beth?"
I didn't even have time to run.
"Sara!"
The enthusiasm in my voice is almost comically overdone. I clear my throat awkwardly as she gestures me over.
"You have a lovely voice."
The visual of her smoking a cigarette is a strange one. Her refinement set against the crumbling bits of ash. She's tall and slender, and even her deep puffs of smoke seem to be graceful. Her and Aleksi suit each other.
The thought cuts more than it has any right to, and I chide myself.
"Thank you."
She looks me up and down, smiling easily. My spine is so straight it aches. My muscles sore from the effort of not moving under her scrutiny. Is she impressed? Disappointed? Intimidated?
I try to dismiss the last one and the small burst of warmth in my stomach it creates.
"Would you like one?"
Normally, a person in my position would be honest and admit I've never smoked a day in my life. However, the part of me, not at all rational, that wants to impress this woman rages against the idea. Somehow refusing her would be a show of weakness. Defeat.
In your imaginary competition which she has no knowledge of, my brain supplies bitterly.
I nod anyway.
Running through my memories, I try to remember all the times I've seen others do this easily. Hell, my mother smoked more than a chimney.
Unfortunately for me, it seems observation and skill are not the same thing.
It only takes a second. A breath, an inhale. Maybe I'll pull this off.
I double over coughing.
Sara becomes so worried she drags me to the small bench.
My eyes water and my throat burns. Partly from lack of air, mostly from embarrassment.
Pathetic. My brain mocks mercilessly. I can't even defend myself.
I hear her clear laugh.
My head snaps up.
Anger is quick to the surface and I'm ready to give her a piece of my mind, when I see her face. Her eyes are watering and she's doubled over just as badly as I am. Something about it cools my anger instantly. Though not my shame. Her laugh forces me to acknowledge the absurdity of it all.
Before I know it, I'm laughing along with her.
Between gasping breaths, Sara manages to get a few words out.
"That's the second time that's happened this week!" Her laughing renews in full force. "Why do people keep accepting?"
"Why keep offering?" I bite back rudely, blushing.
She wipes her eyes, unoffended, still chuckling. I go back over her words, though, and am suddenly curious.
"Who else did this happen to?"
Perhaps it's not so embarrassing after all.
Sara chuckles as if it's an inside joke.
"Lady Anna."
It takes me a moment to process, but when I do I practically screech.
"What?" My cry sets off another round of coughing, which in turn sets her off laughing.
She slaps my back, and I look up at her from where I'm hunched.
Her smile is reminiscent, as if she's picturing it.
Now that I think about it, I can see it perfectly. Her face flushing and her brown eyes tearing up in defiance.I can't help but chuckle at the mental picture.
"What…" Sara tucks a stray red strand behind her ear, seeming hesitant. "What do you think of her?"
"Lady Anna?" I ask, my voice croaking like I've been smoking my whole life.
She hums lightly in agreement, noncommittal.
I consider it for a second. When I first met her, I thought Lady Anna would be just like Eliza. Not mean… but not kind either. But even through my hollowness and my melancholy, Lady Anna had never been anything but gentle with me.
When I told her I had to leave, there was no anger, only concern.
So I tell what feels like the first truth of my stay here.
"I think she's wonderful."
Sara takes a drag of her newly lit cigarette and gives me a sidelong glance. I wonder exactly how I could explain it, how I owe her everything. How, if I could choose, she's exactly who I would pick to be my little sister.
"She's exceptionally kind, and gentle." She looks back up at the moon, nodding along with my words. A thought occurs to me. "Do you not like her?" I question gently.
Her head shaking is immediate and decisive.
"That's not it." She takes another slow drag. "Not at all."
I open my mouth to ask her about it, but a familiar voice cuts me off.
"Are you alright?"
Aleksi looks at me, eyes full of concern.
I must look awful, eyes red and watery, hunched over myself. The shame and embarrassment come back in full force. How much more can I act a fool in front of this man? One has to think there is a limit.
"I'm—"
"She had a bit of an incident, you should stay with her until she recovers."
I turn to Sara in shock, jaw on the floor, to see she's standing and putting out her smoke. She smiles almost conspiratorily at me before swishing off past Aleksi, patting his arm as she passes him.
Both of us are left stunned, staring at the doorway she disappeared through. We're left in stretching silence, broken only by my laboured wheezes.
Say something, my brain begs, anything.
"I like her." The words fly out of me and I wince, regretting them immediately.
He turns to me, eyebrows high. I want to melt into the ground. Excellent. I should keep a running tally of how many times I put my foot in it, I'm sure the number would be exorbitant.
He nods slowly, still saying nothing.
My head feels like it's about to explode.
We both stay silent for a moment, the only sound the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind. The pressure builds every second that passes.
"You sure you're alright?" he suddenly cuts in.
I nod, eager to dispel any tension.
Hesitantly, he makes his way to the bench, sitting down next to me. We both shift uneasily. His expression of unease surely a reflection of my own.
"She's great." I try again, desperate for even a bit of common ground.
His only response is to stare at me like I've just said something nonsensical.
"Who?" His voice is just as deep as I remember it. Gooseflesh race down my arms.
I blink at him, seriously questioning the functionality of his memory.
"Sara?" My tone is a gentle reminder, though frustration bubbles under my skin. Meet me halfway here, Aleksi.
"Oh, yes, she's great." Even this small confirmation hits like a blow, and I seriously consider doubling over again.
I fist my skirt to keep from doing anything I'll regret. It seems that this cannot be our common ground. It's unbearable.
"You still play well." Awkwardly, I attempt a new topic.
This gets his attention.
He turns to me fully now, eyes searching mine with a surprising intensity.
"You think so?"
Don't think of the past, I tell myself, even as memories of tears and caresses flash through my mind.
"I do." My voice is slightly too high. Damn.
He smiles slightly, looking at the sky, unphased.
"You sing just like I remembered."
His voice is quiet, reminiscent. It makes my throat close even worse than the cigarette. Fierce aching takes hold of my body.
How can he say things like this?
You rejected me, Aleksi. I want to scream it at him.
I want to tell him to be fair.
I have a fake husband for God's sake.
He's in love with someone else.
And yet all I do is look to the sky.