A Tale of Beauty

by Patrick Balzamo

  “Hi, Belle,” Chastity says. “We’re good, thanks.”

  “Excellent.” I look around. “Where’s Sue?”

  “Late, of course,” Diana says.

  Sue arrives twenty minutes later, by which time Chastity has drifted into what appears to be a light trance state and Denise has reorganized the contents of her purse three times. Whatever idle thoughts had been going through my mind evaporate as soon as I get a clear look at what Sue’s wearing: an over-large white t-shirt and stained grey sweatpants with dingy running shoes.

  “What is that about?” Diana whispers to me as Sue lifts her hand in greeting. I notice that she doesn’t wave back at Sue.

  “Don’t say anything,” I warn her.

  “I don’t know if I can help myself.”

  By this time, Sue is dangerously close, and I smile and wave at her instead of saying anything more to Diana. “Sue, lovely to see you.” I hold out my arms, and she hugs me briefly.

  “Hey. I know I look like a train wreck,” Sue says.

  “You look just fine, Sue,” Chastity says.

  “She looks God-awful,” Diana whispers to me as we walk to the mall doors ahead of the others.

  “Please, Diana,” I say as I pull the door open. “She’s upset.”

  “So am I. Are we expected to go shopping with her while she looks like that?”

  I give Diana a hard look. “Whatever she’s wearing, she is family. We are supposed to be supporting her, not calling attention to how far her situation has deteriorated. I’m warning you, Diana: not another word about it.”

  Diana’s mouth twists, but she doesn’t say anything more.

  At first, we move through the mall in relative silence. Chastity and Denise walk a bit ahead of the rest of us, pointing out a particularly good sale whenever we pass a store that’s having one. “It’s so sad,” Chastity says, looking over her shoulder to include the rest of us. “You never used to see anything like this. Everyone’s so desperate to make a sale.”

  “Of course they’re desperate,” Diana replies. She’s walking in the middle, just ahead of Sue and I. “Have you seen anyone but the employees in any of these stores?”

  “No,” Denise says, “and honestly, I can see why. They’re all so expensive.”

  “Everything looks expensive to me,” Sue grumbles.

  I place my hand on her shoulder in what I hope comes across an encouraging gesture. “If you see something that you’d like, I’d be very glad to treat you to it.”

  “Wow, charity. Thanks.” She shrugs off my hand.

  “That’s not how I meant it.”

  Diana glances over her shoulder at us. “Problem?” she asks.

  “No, sorry. You’ll have to find somewhere else to stick your nose.” Sue walks forward quickly to catch up with Denise and Chastity, who are approaching a kiosk advertising discount perfume.

  Diana waits for me to catch up to her. “And now she’s got an attitude into the bargain. Do I still have to keep my mouth shut?”

  I watch Sue, who’s talking with Chastity. “Hopefully she’ll get better as the day goes on.”

  Diana follows my gaze to Sue and Chastity. As we watch, Sue says something that I can’t quite hear, and Chastity frowns nervously. “Yes, I can see it already.”

  Throughout the first two hours of shopping, Sue keeps her distance from the rest of us. She drifts around the racks of clothing instead of looking through any of them alongside us; in the DVD store, she doesn’t make any of her usual comments about the more insipid boxed sets. “How many situation comedies do we really need?” I ask her while Denise is paying for two movies that she found in the bargain bin.

  “Us unemployed people need to watch something, right?” she replies.

  Eventually, Denise decides that she wants to stop for a coffee, and I take advantage of the opportunity to take Sue aside. “What’s the matter with you?”

  “Do you want it alphabetically?”

  “Stop it. We’re here trying to give you a break from all that, and you’re being very hostile.”

  “Oh, please.” She snorts. “Going out shopping is supposed to be a break from my problems? What the hell is this, Clueless?”

  “It isn’t about the shopping. It’s about spending time with us. We’re your family, your Sisters —”

  “And that’s all great, but it’s not going to pay my bills.” When I don’t reply right away, she puts her hand to her head and takes a deep breath. “Sorry. I don’t want to be like this. I know you guys aren’t responsible for what’s going on; it’s all my own fault. I just ... I don’t know how to deal with it.”

  “Let us help, then.” I take her arm and try to steer her toward a nearby table. “Let’s talk about it, and —”

  She pulls her arm out of my grip, firmly but not violently. “What is talking going to solve? I’m going home.”

  “No. Being alone is the worst thing for you right now. You need your Sisters; you can’t do this by yourself.”

  “Then let me find that out for myself, okay?”

  “No,” I repeat.

  She shrugs. “Let’s see you stop me.” In a softer tone, she adds: “Tell the others ... whatever. You’ll figure it out.”

  I watch her walk away until she vanishes around a corner; then, I join the others at the counter where Denise is waiting for her coffee. “Where’s Sue?” Chastity asks.

  “She left,” I reply. “I suppose she wasn’t feeling up to it, things being what they are.”

  “Oh.” Denise says. “Maybe we should have made more of an effort to include her. It just seemed like she wanted to be left alone.”

  “Good riddance,” Diana says. I dread her inevitable “I told you so”.

  “I’m worried about her,” I say.

  “She knows where we are,” Diana says. “When she’s ready, we’ll be here. If we try to force it, we’re just going to make everything worse.”

  I kneel in front of Gertrude’s altar and force my breathing to slow down as I pour the tea into cups and offer her one. This tea set was Gertrude’s, one of the many things that I felt she would have wanted me to save from the vultures who eventually cleaned out her apartment. “Hi, Gertrude. I’ve just come back from shopping with my Sisters. I got you a little something.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a silver necklace with pink stones, which I drape over her picture frame. “Pink was always one of your favourite colors. The heart chakra ... self-esteem, and unconditional love.” I run my fingertips down the glass of the frame lovingly.

  “I’m so worried about Sue. She hasn’t been doing well at all since she broke it off with Nick.” I pause and stare down into my teacup, but see nothing there except for the clouds of milk. Scrying was never my gift. “I tried to tell her, Gertrude. I tried to warn her that he was dangerous, that he was different. If only she’d listened to me then, she wouldn’t be in such a mess now. She might even still have her job, and everything would be okay.”

  I look back at her picture. “I’m sorry. You taught me that the past is done with, and that it’s foolish to wish that it had gone differently.” I look at my distorted reflection in the silver teapot. “I need to focus on the present. I need to help Sue get over this. I can’t let it destroy her; I can’t let her die.”

  I stare into Gertrude’s eyes. “I will save her, whatever I have to do. Please, stand with me.”

  Denise

  “HEY, DENISE. ENJOYING your sandwich?”

  I jump, and only just manage to swallow the bite before I choke on it. “Clyde. Hi.”

  “Hey. Did I scare you just now?”

  “Oh, no.” I begin wrapping up the remaining half of my sandwich. I don’t know how some people can continue eating even while they’re talking to someone who isn’t. It just seems so rude. “I mean, yes, a bit. More like startled, really. But it’s alright, you don’t have to apologize.”

  “I wasn’t apologizing.” He grins, and I chuckle uneasily.

  “Of course you weren�
�t.” Do men ever apologize? “Sorry.”

  “That’s okay. You don’t have to apologize either.” He comes around to my side of the cubicle and glances at my screen. “You’re on lunch, right? Not busy or anything?”

  “No. I mean, yes.” I close my eyes for a moment. “Yes, I’m on lunch, and no, I’m not busy.”

  “Awesome. I was going to go shopping; you want to come with me?”

  I stare at him. “You’ve never asked me to come shopping with you before.”

  He shrugs. “So?”

  “Where are you going?” I ask, mostly to buy time to figure out how to react.

  “I saw this awesome performance of Die Walkure on TV the other night. The DVD’s pretty rare, but this little hole-in-the-wall shop not too far from here has one. He’s holding it for me until the end of the day.”

  “Okay. But why do you need me there with you?”

  “Well, I don’t ‘need’ you there ...” His face falls, and I know that I’ve said the wrong thing. “Just thought you might want to come. Get out of the office, or something ... but if you don’t want to, it’s totally fine.”

  “Oh, no, it’s not that.” The idea of going anywhere with him makes me nervous, but I can’t honestly say that I don’t want to go. Maybe the fact that I want to go is the best reason why I shouldn’t, but even so, I can’t help but say, “Sure, why not?”

  “Awesome!” His grin is back full-force, and I immediately start questioning whether I’ve made the right decision. Too late now, though. “You ready now?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” I take my purse from the floor under my desk. “Let’s go.”

  “After you,” he says with an exaggerated bow, and even though it feels as though two lions are having a cage match in my stomach, I manage a smile.

  Outside, the noise of the traffic and the other pedestrians saves me from having to make conversation immediately. Soon enough, though, we turn into a side street, and the sudden silence very quickly becomes uncomfortable. “Die Walkure,” I say when I can’t take it anymore. “That’s an opera, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s right.” He sounds surprised. “You never told me you were into classical music.”

  “Oh, I’m not. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with it, I just never really got into it.” I clear my throat. “One of my friends did a paper about the Valkyries and the way they’ve been portrayed in popular culture. She had a whole section about the main character ... Bruna, or something?”

  “Brunhilde.”

  “Right. Brunhilde.” He doesn’t say anything more, and so I continue talking. “She doesn’t usually go around showing me her schoolwork, of course. She only thought I’d be interested in this one because I helped her write it.”

  “Really?” I look over and find him grinning. “Never thought you’d be the type to do someone’s work for them.”

  “Oh, no, that isn’t what I meant!” His grin gets broader and I feel myself starting to blush. Why did I come out here with him? Why didn’t I just make some excuse? “She wanted to do a section on a series of video games that I happen to own, so I let her watch me play for a few hours, so she could get some examples and quotations to use.”

  “Ah.” We stop at a red light. “You’re a gamer, then?”

  “Well, I play video games now and then. I don’t know that I’d call myself a ‘gamer’.”

  “What would you call yourself?”

  “I don’t know. Do I have to call myself anything?”

  He seems to think this over. “I guess not. But does that mean that all that stuff I’ve heard about how it’s mainly guys playing games is all wrong?”

  “I don’t know. I usually play by myself, but most of the people I run into when I play online do happen to be men.”

  “How can you tell? Is there some kind of voice chat thing?”

  “Sometimes.” I glance up the street before I begin crossing. “The guys usually flirt with you if you’re playing a female character.”

  He laughs. “Seriously?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s pathetic.” He stops suddenly. “This is it.”

  “This is what?” I look up at the store’s sign. “Oh ... right. Sorry. I got distracted.”

  “Yeah, me too.” He opens the door for me, and I smile uneasily as I go inside.

  The store is very small, with three aisles of CD’s and a bookcase full of DVD’s and boxed sets along the back wall. While Clyde’s at the cash, I wander around, admiring some of the more elaborate cover art, until something catches my eye. It’s a double CD of Chopin, with a bright red sticker that reads ‘50% off’. Regular price is $29.99. A double CD for $15? That’s really cheap. I turn over the case and blink at the amount of songs listed there. “Wow,” I murmur.

  “What’d you find?” Clyde says from behind me, startling me for the second time today. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” I show him the CD.

  “Chopin, huh? I never really got into his stuff. You going to get it?”

  “I don’t know.” I run my thumb over the 50% off sticker. “It’s a really good price and I’ve been meaning to check out some of Chopin’s work, but maybe I should try to find somewhere I can listen to it online before I spend any money —”

  “You think too much, you know that?” He snatches the CD out of my hand and starts walking back toward the cash.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, horrified.

  “Getting you a present,” he says, as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

  “Oh, no, please, you don’t have to do that. I’m not even sure I want it, and even if I did, I can buy it myself.” I try to take the CD back, but Clyde’s already handing it over to the cashier with his credit card. “Clyde, come on.”

  “What?” He leans against the counter, grinning. “You came out and kept me company today. This is my way of saying thanks.”

  “You don’t have to thank me for that. It was nothing.”

  “Well then, think of it as a thank you for helping me with all that work I keep dumping on you.” He scribbles his signature on the transaction record, puts his credit card back into his wallet, and hands me the CD in a small, transparent bag. “Here you go. Let me know what you think of it.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask, torn between being shy to accept it and not wanting to make a scene. “There’s still time to return it.”

  “Actually, there isn’t,” the cashier says, very coldly. “No returns or exchanges on discounted items.”

  Clyde laughs. “Looks like you’re stuck, Denise.” He presses the bag into my hand, and his touch makes me shiver. “Enjoy.”

  I clutch the bag so tightly that I can feel the blood throbbing in my knuckles. I suddenly feel terrible for having thought that he might be anything like Brian. He’s not just taking whatever he can get from me; he appreciates what I do for him, and respects me for it. I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts that I only remember to say “Thank you,” once we’re back on the street.

  “My pleasure,” he says, with yet another of those dazzling grins.

  That evening, I turn on the most mindless hack-and-slash game I own, mute the TV, and put the first Chopin CD into the stereo. The music is beautiful, even haunting at times; surprisingly, it also works very well as background music to my wizard’s mowing down of screen after screen of monsters.

  I’ll have to thank Clyde again tomorrow, I think to myself as I stare at the loading screen between levels. As the next area starts to appear on the screen, a much more vibrant piece begins playing; I check the back of the CD case, and learn that it’s called “Grande Valse Brillante.”

  Valse ... a waltz. People danced to this, people who’ve been dead for over a hundred years. The new level has finished loading, but instead of charging ahead, I close my eyes and lean my head back. It would be a ballroom, or a large parlour ... someone, maybe Chopin himself, playing the piano. How many of them knew they were in the presence of a genius? How many of them appreciated t
he honour of being able to dance to music played by a master of his craft?

  I imagine myself in a simple but elegant gown — violet, with silver trim — moving through the ballroom, watching the couples whirl about the dance floor, watching Chopin’s fingers dance along the keys as though it were as easy as breathing. And then, a tap on my shoulder, a soft: “Would you care to dance?” in a familiar voice. Clyde’s voice. And I’d say “yes,” and I’d take his hand, and —

  I force my eyes open and turn the music off. “No,” I say aloud. “I can’t do this.” Remember what Belle said, I hear myself thinking, more quickly than I could ever speak. You must be the priestess, never the sacrifice. You cannot be hurt again. And I understand that; I even agree, but it’s still so tempting.

  Chastity

  “SO, YOU WANT to go out Saturday night?”

  My hand freezes on the bit of phone cord that I’ve been trying to straighten since I started talking to Matthew. “Go out?”

  “Yeah. You know, get dressed, leave the house, see people —”

  I laugh. “Yes, I understand the concept. Where would we go?”

  “I’m going to meet a couple of friends for drinks. Thought I’d see if you wanted to come along.”

  “Oh.” I hesitate. “Drinks. At a ... bar, I suppose?”

  He chuckles. “Yeah, that’s generally where they serve ‘em. This place is kind of a lounge: not quite a bar, but the same basic concept.”

  “I see.” Should I go? “Will there be very many people coming?”

  “Nah. Lucy’ll be there for sure, and Vanessa and Shane will probably want to join us if their shifts work out alright.” He’s talking about these people as though I’m supposed to know them. “Five of us then, if you decide to come.”

  “I see.” I start playing with the phone cord again.

  “What’s the matter?” he asks after a few moments of silence. “Too much for you?” There’s a slight hint of teasing in his voice, but the question is still more or less sincere.

  “No, of course not.” This is just the kind of opportunity that I’ve been waiting for. I can’t afford to let it be too much for me. “This Saturday?”