30-03-2019, 06:55 PM
I crawled out of bed. When I was off of his arm, Troy rolled onto his side to hug Julie as they slept on. Rather than hunt for the teddy on the floor in the dark, I stepped into Julie's bathroom and borrowed a robe, wrapping it around myself as I crept out of the bedroom and closed the door behind me.
Once their door was closed, there was no further need for stealth. I sat on the couch that Julie and I had been on this afternoon and turned on her laptop. (Don't worry, I have permission to use it.)
I loaded Skype and checked the clock on the laptop: 1:38 AM. I did some math in my head. It was either just turning lunchtime there or everyone would be coming back from it.
The call connected. A woman a few years younger than me answered. She was wearing an impressive business suit with skirt that had to have been hand-tailored by elves.
"Si," the girl's voice called at the computer. "Troy, Julie? Sei tu?"
"I'm sorry," I said, hoping I wasn't raising my voice like a stupid American tourist in the movies. "I don't speak Italian. I think we saw you on the news. Maria?"
"Oh, si," she replied. "Don't worry, I know English. And you are Susan, si?"
"Yeah, uh, si. I'd definitely like to talk to you sometime, however, I called for her, and er... how DO you get an 'audience' or whatever with a Contessa, anyway? Are there forms? Someone you bribe?"
Maria laughed at that. "No. I tell Great-Grandmama you call. Is big castle, may take her a minute to come to computer."
She sent a text and I chatted with Maria for a few minutes, exchanged Facebook pages, and learned about the weather in San Finzione and how their team was doing in the semi-finals in some sport I still can't tell you the name of before Maria bid me good day and left the room.
She was replaced on the screen by the other woman I'd seen on the news. She had short black hair and looked like an actress from the 50s or 60s whose name I know I'm going to remember later and hate myself for not being able to remember it now. The smile on her face was of someone holding a big party and expecting a certain guest, only to open the door and find someone she didn't know standing there, but was still trying to play the role of gracious hostess.
"Susan, is it," Helen asked. "I can tell what Troy sees in you." She picked up a cigarette and lit it. "Are they all right?"
"Oh yes," I replied. There was still enough wine in the bottle from that afternoon for another glass, so I poured myself one. It was room temperature by now, but I wasn't proud. "You know those two: Off having Cotton-Candy-Land-Smurfy-Best-Friend dreams together. No, I called to talk to you."
"Is this about the bag? Really, it's nothing, dear."
"You're right about that," I said, taking a drink. "It IS nothing."
She tried to hide the shock on her face. She got it out as a curious "Oh?"
"You see, Helen," she opened her mouth to correct me and I cut her off. "I know, it's Contessa Helena something. I owe you an ass-kicking, bitch, not extra letters."
She took a long drag of her cigarette. "Was the 'bitch' meant to insult me, dear? That's cute. Do you know what they call me in Zambia? 'The She-Demon Who Birthed All Witches.' That one's my favorite."
"What I call you is one of only two people in this world who have ever made me feel truly powerless. One's bagging organic groceries somewhere in the Rockies right now, the other thinks she can buy me off with a $30,000 watch, some tech toys, and some fancy chocolates and stuff from companies I've only heard about in rap songs."
"But be fair, those chocolates almost swayed you, didn't they?" She set the cigarette in an ash tray, reached past the laptop, and produced one of those same chocolates, popping it into her mouth. Ok, yeah, they did, but fuck if I was going to admit it to her.
"Well, you don't have to worry about it happening again, Susan, dear. I AM sorry, and I promised Troy it wouldn't happen again. You're safe from me. Even if I hadn't, I'm sure they've already told you that our thing doesn't work over Skype."
"And see, if I'd ALSO grown up with the three of you and shared all the stuff you've done and lived in a world where me and my pals give each other fancy sports cars for a joke, I'd have that hope deep down in my heart that they do. That 'this time, Helen's changed for real' one. But from what they've told me, you know as well as I do what bullshit 'I've really changed this time' and 'I promise I won't do it again' is. People don't step on you once and then never do it again."
"Oh, are we going to lay our tragedy cards out on the table and see whose life's been worse? I'll open with 'Daddy was an abusive drunk who beat Mommy to death' if that's really what you called about."
"No. You're right," I responded with another sip. "The point is that I accept the gifts because Troy would say not to..." She cut me off and finished it.
"Punish a genuine effort to be nice,' yes, I know."
"I don't accept the apology, though. You'll do it again; everything I've learned about you tells me that. Oh, you'll have a perfectly good reason for doing it, I'm sure. And another the time after that. After the third, you won't even pretend anymore."
"Spoken like someone else who learned about concealer before lipstick."
"Yeah, but you don't see me toppling governments over it. So, if you're sincere, your actions will bear that out, and maybe in time, I'll be able to accept it. If not, well, Troy says he's going to start teaching me your thing in the morning. Either way, I expect our next meeting to be interesting enough to stay awake through."
"And I'll try to do the same. Now if you'll excuse me, I have Countessing stuff to do. Pick up this lovely conversation another time?"
"Count on it," I said, and ended the call.
* * *
Once their door was closed, there was no further need for stealth. I sat on the couch that Julie and I had been on this afternoon and turned on her laptop. (Don't worry, I have permission to use it.)
I loaded Skype and checked the clock on the laptop: 1:38 AM. I did some math in my head. It was either just turning lunchtime there or everyone would be coming back from it.
The call connected. A woman a few years younger than me answered. She was wearing an impressive business suit with skirt that had to have been hand-tailored by elves.
"Si," the girl's voice called at the computer. "Troy, Julie? Sei tu?"
"I'm sorry," I said, hoping I wasn't raising my voice like a stupid American tourist in the movies. "I don't speak Italian. I think we saw you on the news. Maria?"
"Oh, si," she replied. "Don't worry, I know English. And you are Susan, si?"
"Yeah, uh, si. I'd definitely like to talk to you sometime, however, I called for her, and er... how DO you get an 'audience' or whatever with a Contessa, anyway? Are there forms? Someone you bribe?"
Maria laughed at that. "No. I tell Great-Grandmama you call. Is big castle, may take her a minute to come to computer."
She sent a text and I chatted with Maria for a few minutes, exchanged Facebook pages, and learned about the weather in San Finzione and how their team was doing in the semi-finals in some sport I still can't tell you the name of before Maria bid me good day and left the room.
She was replaced on the screen by the other woman I'd seen on the news. She had short black hair and looked like an actress from the 50s or 60s whose name I know I'm going to remember later and hate myself for not being able to remember it now. The smile on her face was of someone holding a big party and expecting a certain guest, only to open the door and find someone she didn't know standing there, but was still trying to play the role of gracious hostess.
"Susan, is it," Helen asked. "I can tell what Troy sees in you." She picked up a cigarette and lit it. "Are they all right?"
"Oh yes," I replied. There was still enough wine in the bottle from that afternoon for another glass, so I poured myself one. It was room temperature by now, but I wasn't proud. "You know those two: Off having Cotton-Candy-Land-Smurfy-Best-Friend dreams together. No, I called to talk to you."
"Is this about the bag? Really, it's nothing, dear."
"You're right about that," I said, taking a drink. "It IS nothing."
She tried to hide the shock on her face. She got it out as a curious "Oh?"
"You see, Helen," she opened her mouth to correct me and I cut her off. "I know, it's Contessa Helena something. I owe you an ass-kicking, bitch, not extra letters."
She took a long drag of her cigarette. "Was the 'bitch' meant to insult me, dear? That's cute. Do you know what they call me in Zambia? 'The She-Demon Who Birthed All Witches.' That one's my favorite."
"What I call you is one of only two people in this world who have ever made me feel truly powerless. One's bagging organic groceries somewhere in the Rockies right now, the other thinks she can buy me off with a $30,000 watch, some tech toys, and some fancy chocolates and stuff from companies I've only heard about in rap songs."
"But be fair, those chocolates almost swayed you, didn't they?" She set the cigarette in an ash tray, reached past the laptop, and produced one of those same chocolates, popping it into her mouth. Ok, yeah, they did, but fuck if I was going to admit it to her.
"Well, you don't have to worry about it happening again, Susan, dear. I AM sorry, and I promised Troy it wouldn't happen again. You're safe from me. Even if I hadn't, I'm sure they've already told you that our thing doesn't work over Skype."
"And see, if I'd ALSO grown up with the three of you and shared all the stuff you've done and lived in a world where me and my pals give each other fancy sports cars for a joke, I'd have that hope deep down in my heart that they do. That 'this time, Helen's changed for real' one. But from what they've told me, you know as well as I do what bullshit 'I've really changed this time' and 'I promise I won't do it again' is. People don't step on you once and then never do it again."
"Oh, are we going to lay our tragedy cards out on the table and see whose life's been worse? I'll open with 'Daddy was an abusive drunk who beat Mommy to death' if that's really what you called about."
"No. You're right," I responded with another sip. "The point is that I accept the gifts because Troy would say not to..." She cut me off and finished it.
"Punish a genuine effort to be nice,' yes, I know."
"I don't accept the apology, though. You'll do it again; everything I've learned about you tells me that. Oh, you'll have a perfectly good reason for doing it, I'm sure. And another the time after that. After the third, you won't even pretend anymore."
"Spoken like someone else who learned about concealer before lipstick."
"Yeah, but you don't see me toppling governments over it. So, if you're sincere, your actions will bear that out, and maybe in time, I'll be able to accept it. If not, well, Troy says he's going to start teaching me your thing in the morning. Either way, I expect our next meeting to be interesting enough to stay awake through."
"And I'll try to do the same. Now if you'll excuse me, I have Countessing stuff to do. Pick up this lovely conversation another time?"
"Count on it," I said, and ended the call.
* * *
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