Belle stares at me for a few seconds longer, then settles back onto the couch. “Alright,” she says, and I can tell that she’s making an effort to be gracious. “I must confess that I’m very eager to hear what you thought of my story. I still don’t understand why we couldn’t discuss it on the phone, whether or not you wanted to come over afterward.”
“I’m sorry that I kept you in suspense,” I reply, doing my best to sidestep the confrontation that she seems so eager to have. “It’s really not that bad.”
“That means that it isn’t that good either.” Belle exhales in a huff and turns her face toward the backrest.
“I didn’t say that.” I had forgotten how much she loves to twist my words when she’s in this state. “I do think that I understand some of what your teacher’s saying, though.”
“So you agree with her, then?”
“Not entirely.” I say, more aggressively than I’d intended, and take a moment to calm down. Fighting with her won’t solve anything. “I think that there are some tiny contradictions in the witch’s character ... you called her Ruby, right?”
“Yes.” Belle raises an eyebrow. “Contradictions?”
“Yeah. She’s a healer, right?”
“Yes, she is. That’s the injustice of it, that she’s never used her powers for anything but good, and yet —”
“Right.” I stop her before her ramble can begin to gather momentum. “So then why does she regret not learning attack spells?”
Belle blinks. “Why ...? They could have saved her life, of course.”
“Would she have thought about that, though? I can see her not wanting to die. I can even see her being angry. But wishing for something that goes so contrary to her nature?”
“It works though, doesn’t it?”
“It does, but ...” I’ve got to get this right. “You’ve got a very finite amount of space in which to establish her character. It’s important that you focus on her essential traits, what you most want to bring across, so that those are in place for the rest of the story.”
“That darkness is an essential trait, though. The rest of the story is about her vengeance, so I have to set it up that she’s dark, don’t I?”
“Not necessarily. What if you just, I don’t know ...” I look around the room. “You could have a scene after she’s killed, where she’s struggling to reconcile her good nature with the injustice that you mentioned before, and the injustice wins out? I think that would be a bit more natural. It’d probably also help the reader to get into the character if they can see that breakdown happening, rather than just sort of hinting at it before she goes ballistic.”
Belle appears to consider this. Eventually, she nods. “Perhaps I can do something with that,” she says grudgingly. “Was there anything else?”
I could bring up several more instances of awkwardness, chiefly the dialogue, but I don’t see the point. Telling her anything else right now would, at best, discourage her; at worst, it would set her off again. “Nothing I can think of. I’ll let you know if anything else comes to mind.”
“Alright.” She closes her eyes, as though she’s preparing herself for something awful. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She opens her eyes and stares directly into mine. “Your turn, then. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I answer reflexively. “Nothing out of the ordinary, I mean.”
“What did you want to talk with me about, then?” She sits up. “Something’s wrong. I can tell.” She smiles, and I feel a bit unsettled. “I can always tell. Will you make me guess?”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from frowning. I wasn’t prepared for this; usually, I talk about this stuff with Sue, and I never realized how difficult it would be to discuss it with Belle. It shouldn’t be: she’s my Sister too, and I trust her. It’s more like ... I’m scared of revealing too much to her. I’m afraid of making myself vulnerable. Maybe I don’t trust her as much as I think I do.
“I’m waiting.”
“I know.” I lick my lips, and force myself to start talking. It’s too late to turn back now. “There’s this guy at work, Clyde. I think that I might be developing feelings for him.” Belle doesn’t say anything, and I take that as a cue to keep talking. “He’s ...” Images of Clyde flash through my mind. “He’s not the kind of guy I want to be attracted to. He’s shallow and ... well, he’s not stupid, but sometimes he acts like it, you know? He can be really insensitive too, and sometimes I want to strangle him, and now he’s been giving me some of his work, and ...” I take a deep breath. “It’s starting to feel like ... before.”
“With Brian.”
“Right,” I say quickly, before she can remind me of anything more than his name.
“Do you feel as though he’s taking advantage of you?”
“I don’t know.” I look away from her. “I feel stupid.”
“You aren’t stupid. These things can’t be helped sometimes.”
“But I’m supposed to be better than this.” Now that I’ve started talking, I can’t seem to shut up. “I should know better, after everything that’s happened and everything that the Sisterhood has taught me. It’s just —”
“You’re human,” Belle finishes, and though that’s not at all what I meant to say, I nod. “As I said, it’s only natural. No matter how much you know, or what you’ve been through, there’s always going to be a part of you that wants to love and be loved, and will pay anything for a chance at it. A particular man can be exorcised, but that piece of you is there forever, and eventually, someone is bound to come along and wake it up.”
“Like Sleeping Beauty?” I say, a bit sarcastically.
Belle, however, is quite serious. “Yes. Just like that.”
A few moments of silence pass before I say, quietly, “I don’t want to be one of those stupid girls that we laugh at, the ones that end up with guys that aren’t worth anything. I don’t want to make a mistake like that again.”
Belle comes over and takes my hand. “You won’t,” she promises. “I’ll make sure of that.”
I tense up at her touch. “What if we can’t help it? What if it just happens?”
“It won’t.” Belle stares into my eyes intensely. “You’re an Ugly Sister, Denise. As long as you hold onto that part of yourself, you will always be the priestess, never the sacrifice.”
Never the bride, either? I feel a stab of regret, but shake it off. No, never the bride. There aren’t any happy endings. I should know that by now. “Thank you, Belle. I’ll do my best.”
“You’ll be fine,” Belle says. “Just remember who you are.”
I nod, and though I don’t believe her absolutely, I am somewhat comforted. She’s right: I just have to keep my head on straight. I can’t keep letting myself get dazzled by Clyde. In this moment, it feels as though it might be just that easy. “Thank you,” I say again.
“Don’t worry about it,” Belle says. “This is exactly what I’m here for.”
Chastity
BY THE TIME that I realize that eight o’clock on a Saturday morning might be too early for a surprise visit to Matthew’s apartment, I’m already standing in the lobby of his building. Should I go home and come back later? I shake my head. Annoying Matthew won’t get this off to a good start, but if I go home now, it may be a long time before I can build up the courage to come back.
It takes him a long time to answer, and his voice is still thick with sleep. “Hello?”
“Good morning, Matthew,” I say, as brightly as I can. “It’s me. May I come up?”
“Chastity? What’s the matter?”
“I’d rather not discuss it over the intercom.”
Matthew is silent for a few moments. “All right,” he finally says. “Come on up.”
Matthew’s door is still closed when I arrive at his apartment. He never greets anyone at the door, preferring to wait for them to let themselves in instead. I step into my brother’s apartment cautiously
, like I expect to be stopped at any moment. I hear a cupboard door close in the small kitchen as I begin to remove my shoes, and before I’ve finished, Matthew appears. His hair is hopelessly tousled, and his torn t-shirt and shorts are barely even fit for sleeping in.
“What is it?” he asks. “Are you all right?” His eyes dart over me. “For Christ’s sake, answer me.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. His eyes soften. For one brief, glorious moment, I’m able to delude myself into believing that he’s concerned about me because he loves me, but the feeling evaporates as quickly as it came. He doesn’t love me, not really, not yet, but that’s alright. Someday, we will be united in the love of Christ.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” This is his gentle voice, but I can hear his impatience underneath it. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”
“I couldn’t sleep.” I feel like a child again, confiding my nightmares to him as we waited for the sun to come up. “I’ve been thinking about you ... about us.” I glance around the apartment, and wrap my arms around myself protectively. “I know it’s early, and that you like to sleep in ... at least, you used to ... but I couldn’t wait. I had to tell you ... in case I couldn’t later ...” I meet his eyes, and try to ignore the annoyance and confusion in them. “I love you. I miss you. I’m sorry for everything.”
“What are you talking about? What are you sorry for?”
“I’ve been so difficult. I’ve been pushing you so hard ... like I said, for everything.”
I see him tense. “So, what, you just feel guilty all of a sudden? We haven’t even seen each other for weeks. Why now?”
“I suppose it’s because of Father Jouvart’s sermon last Sunday.”
Matthew rolls his eyes. “Here we go.”
“Please, let me finish.” He doesn’t trust me. I have to convince him, or he’ll shut down. “What he said doesn’t matter, but the important thing is that it made me realize how little I know about you ... and I don’t like it.” I lower my head. “I hate how far apart we’ve grown. I hate that it’s so hard for us to relate to each other.”
“Well, whose fault is that?”
“It’s mine.” I lift my head in time to see the shock flash through his eyes. “I don’t mind; I’ll take the blame. It’s not important, who was wrong.” I let my arms fall back to my sides. “But I’m here now, and I want to fix it. I want us to be friends again, at the very least.” I pause, then add, “Please, don’t tell me it’s too late.”
He continues to watch me, allowing the unsettling silence to spin out between us. For my part, I fight to stay still, to maintain my composure. “You’re talking like we haven’t seen each other for twenty years, and one of us is about to die.”
“Well, that’s almost how it feels sometimes.” You are dying. You just don’t know it. Let me fix you. Let me make it better.
“Aren’t you being a bit dramatic?” His expression softens, presumably to compensate for his sharp words. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s just ... there’s plenty of families that don’t get along, that have certain ... things they can’t agree on. It doesn’t mean that they aren’t family, though.” Our eyes meet. “You’re my sister, and no matter how much you drive me insane, you always will be.”
I feel a tightness in my throat, and despite the promise that I would accomplish my mission with the dry-eyed grace of the Blessed Virgin cradling Jesus’ body, I start to cry. “I’m sorry,” I say in a shaky voice. Stop it right now. You know how much he hates to see you cry. You’ll ruin everything. “I’m so sorry. Just give me a minute.” I fumble with my purse, searching for a tissue, but my fingers freeze on the catch as his arms, at once familiar and strange, settle around me.
“You’re really beating yourself up about this.” He strokes my hair as his voice becomes forceful, almost angry. “Why do you put yourself through so much? Why do you suffer so much for nothing?”
It’s not for nothing. It’s for you. “I don’t want to drive you insane. I don’t want us to be so far apart.”
“Okay. I get it.” I feel him relax against me, and know that I have won this battle, thank God. “We can fix it, right?”
I smile. “Yes,” I say, in the voice that I usually reserve for my prayers. “Together.”
“I don’t understand why I never thought of it before,” I say as I refill Sue’s teacup. “It was the homily that gave me the idea, of course, but my goodness, it was so simple. All that time that I spent trying to force him to change, and all I had to do was talk to him.” I look around, and find that Belle and Diana are looking at me strangely. “What’s the matter?”
Belle and Diana exchange a glance, and Belle shifts forward in her seat. “I suppose that we’re simply wondering what you mean to achieve, Chastity.”
I set the teapot down. “Well, his salvation, of course. What else?”
“I see.” Belle glances down at the plate of biscuits, but doesn’t take one. “How?”
“Oh, I imagine it’ll happen very naturally. We’ll get to know each other again, and if he’s not inspired to change by my example, at least he’ll be more approachable. From there, I can slowly turn him back to the faith, to God.” No one says anything. “Is something wrong?”
“Let me make sure I’ve got this right,” Diana says. “You’ve just gone to his apartment to tell him that you don’t want to fight with him anymore, that you want to get to know the person he’s become.”
“Yes.”
“So you’re going to do that, and then, when you think he’s comfortable enough with you, you’re going to start attacking him again?”
“Well, now, I wouldn’t call it an attack. I’m just —”
“— going to start trying to convert him again.”
“Essentially, I suppose. But you don’t understand: by then —”
“It’ll be a betrayal,” Sue says, and I turn to find her slouched in her seat, looking up instead of at any of us. “You’re going to make him trust you, and then you’re going to change the rules on him all of a sudden.” She takes a gulp of tea. “He’s gonna be pissed.”
“I don’t think so,” I say quietly.
“Listen to her,” Diana says. “She knows what she’s talking about.”
Sue sits up a bit straighter. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You know perfectly well what it means.” Diana glances at Sue over the rim of her teacup. “I thought that you were proud of it.”
“Sue, Diana, please,” Belle snaps. “Chastity, we’re only thinking of you. We want to make sure that you’ve thought this through, because if you make a mistake this time, you may end up damaging your relationship with Matthew beyond repair.”
What if she’s right? More than anything else, I’m afraid of losing Matthew for good, of being forced to leave him in the clutches of sin. If there’s even the slightest chance that will happen, can I take the risk? I suppose it comes down to faith: if I believe that I’m on the right path, then all I have to fear is doubt. What do I believe?
“Thank you, Belle,” I say finally, “but I know what I’m doing.”
Belle looks like she wants to say something else, but in the end, she simply sits back and nods. “Alright, then, Chastity. We wish you the best, of course, and we’ll be here if you need us.”
I smile. “Thank you.”
Belle’s mouth tenses, but stops just short of a smile. “Diana. How have you been?”
“Fine,” Diana replies.
When it becomes clear that she doesn’t intend to elaborate, Belle says: “Is there anything that you’d like to share?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Completely.”
Belle and Diana stare at each other for an uncomfortable few moments before Belle says, “Alright, then. Sue?”
“Unemployment sucks.”
“Have you started looking for another job?” Belle asks.
“Yeah, but it’s not that easy. Have you looked at those ads recently? Per
sonal assistant with five different qualifications, four days a week, $10 an hour.” She sighs, reaches for a biscuit, and devours it in one bite. “Worst part is I applied anyway. Next, please.”
Belle purses her lips. “We’re here for you, Sue.”
“I know,” Sue says coldly. “Sorry,” she adds, more gently. “I’m not in a real appreciative mood today.”
“We understand,” Belle says. “Denise?”
“Yes?” Denise says. “Oh, right. My mind was somewhere else.” She sets her teacup down. “I’ve been alright. No gaming stories today, for which I’m sure you’re all grateful.” She grins, and I smile back. “Nothing else new with me, except I’ve got a couple of days off this month. Really looking forward to those.” She looks around. “Hey, maybe we could all go out somewhere? Do some shopping, make a day of it?”
“Oh, that would be lovely,” I say.
Sue wrinkles her nose. “Pass. I’m going to have enough trouble paying the rent this month without a shopping trip in the mix.”
“I’ll pass as well. We always end up in at least one outlet store, and if I never see another one of those again, it’ll be too soon.” Diana’s perpetual frown deepens. “I don’t know how anyone can stand digging through a warehouse full of damaged clothing alongside an army of slatterns.”
“Hey, don’t knock outlets. I think that’s where Denise got those jeans she’s wearing, isn’t it?” Sue says.
Denise lowers her head, as though she finds this shameful. “There’s nothing wrong with them,” she mutters.
Diana cranes her neck, presumably to examine them, but before she can say anything, Belle stands up. “I’m sure that we can find an activity that will accommodate everyone’s tastes and budget,” she says firmly. “The important thing is that we get to spend time together. Now, does anyone have anything to add?” No one speaks. “Excellent. In that case, meeting adjourned.”
Sue
SINCE I QUIT my job, I’ve done two things: watch TV and sleep. I try to make myself go out for at least an hour every morning, but sometimes I can’t even manage that. This must be what depression feels like.
A Tale of Beauty Page 8