Cruel thin lines

Chapter 7

Two days later, the very special invitation arrived; a whole weekend in a hotel to meet up with all the friends of the ‘94 generation. Fantastic!

I had never attended those parties, but for some reason, I thought that this year, twenty years later, I should be prepared. And I would.

I had three weeks ahead of me to get mentally ready; it would, as my dear Martu says: “Overcome my fears by facing them”.

I would go to that weekend party with my head held high; I had to face the ghosts of my past.

I confirmed my attendance and set out to think about what I would wear to the party that was strictly formal.

I remembered that, in the dressing room, I still had that cherry red dress that I had bought in Paris and that I had never fit into it, I don’t know why I bought it, nor why I kept it. I had lost a few pounds again and if I didn’t get in, I’d get in. Like my name is Evangeline Leigh!

The truth is that I didn’t have to do anything; I looked perfect, as if it had been designed for me. Some nice accessories, my beautiful black shoes and I would be absolutely flawless.

The weeks went by without me becoming aware that the moment was approaching. An avalanche of work for a fashion catalogue showing the latest collection of an important designer had left me with no time to think. I would arrive fulminated to my apartment, straight to sleep. Perhaps it was the best thing, because it is probable that if I analyzed it too much, I would have retracted.

The night before I packed a quick suitcase with a couple of outfits, everything I needed for the night in question and hoped not to forget anything. I wish I had more time to do it thoroughly, but what did it matter?

I laid down to sleep entrusting myself to the universe so that everything would go well, the next day I would have to drive more than three hundred miles, fortunately Martha would be my co-pilot, so I would be doing therapy all the way, she would not allow me to be weak.

Unfortunately, my phone rang at two o’clock in the morning, my Goddaughter; Martha’s daughter had a fever and couldn’t go to the weekend meeting. I tried in a thousand ways to convince her that I could keep her company, but there was no way.

“You go to that meeting by driving or by the kick in the ass I’m going to give you! You choose.”

She left me no options. I couldn’t go back to sleep. I made myself a cup of coffee and set out to continue reading the book of Victoria, a friend of Martha I’ve known for a long time.

I sat down in the comfortable armchair in front of the window, from where I can see the beautiful illuminated coast of my city.

The very f****d one made me cry for four hours; it left me with my eyes swollen like a frog and my nose red as if I was a clown. And that’s how I had to drive that many miles.

I took a shower, my travel coffee cup, the suitcase, the SD memory where I had the Playlist of the book I was reading and went out to the garage in search of my beautiful AUDI A1. In Paris I had an A3, I suppose I wanted to feel a little Anastasia Steel, with her “Submissive Special”, but I definitely don’t have a little submissive soul.

I placed the memory and the Playlist was executed automatically, there I went, again crying as I listened to P!nk with her Try song, remembering Jasmine having left sweet Patrick, while she decided to go ahead without him, in the bathtub of that hotel in Zaragoza.

The journey would be long, the crying served me as a catharsis, I was really about to face the past and I needed to take everything from inside, otherwise it would be terrible.

Early in the afternoon I arrived at my destination, checked in, looking paranoidly everywhere to see if I recognized anyone, covered under my dark glasses, to hide my toad eyes. I would certainly make use of the Spa, with a massage and something to decongest my eyes.

Damn Jasmine and Patrick and their soap opera love! Damn Victoria! I wish somebody loved me like that sweet one loves Jasmine, but that only happens in romantic novels. Although well, in this novel there is every little scene that I would like to live. Sometimes I have to. Right?