A Tale of Beauty

by Patrick Balzamo

  “Then take a shower, wash your clothes, and get yourself together,” Diana says.

  I turn to find her perched at the very edge of her seat. “You think it’s that easy?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Then you have absolutely no idea what’s going on.” Hell, I live here and I don’t know what’s going on. How can I expect her to get it?

  “You’re right. I don’t.” I can tell that she’s just being patronizing. “But maybe you’re just making excuses.”

  Maybe you should shut up. It doesn’t feel worth the effort it would take to say this out loud, though, so I just look back into my tea and shrug. “Maybe.” I force myself to glance up at Belle. “You can start the meeting anytime.”

  Belle sets her mug down. “I don’t think that we’re quite done discussing your trouble, Sue.”

  “I do. Start the meeting.”

  “You can’t run from this. You need to —”

  I jerk my head up. “Can we just pretend everything’s okay for now? It’s not making me feel any better to be treated like a damn psych exhibit.”

  She stares at me for several moments, and I know she wants to push me further. It’s her M.O. to pick at these things until they bleed; she just can’t accept that some stuff can’t be fixed by talking. All you can do sometimes is let it scar and hope that makes the pain stop. “Okay,” she finally says. “We’ll start.” She sits back, folds her hands in her lap, and looks at Chastity. “Go ahead, Chastity. How have you been?”

  Chastity looks from me to Belle. “I, um ...” Her gaze settles on me. “Are you sure it’s alright?”

  “Start talking,” I reply.

  “Alright.” She sits up a bit straighter. “I went out for drinks with Matthew and one of his friends the other day. Her name was Lucy, and, well ... she was perfectly awful to me.”

  “Can’t imagine why,” Diana says.

  Chastity blinks. “What do you mean? We’d only just met; how could she have had something against me?”

  “She’s Matthew’s friend.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  Diana rolls her eyes. “Plenty. Imagine the things she must have heard about you.”

  “From Matthew, you mean?” Chastity is horrified. “I’m sure he doesn’t talk about me to his friends, and even if he did, he wouldn’t say anything bad.”

  “Well, I’m sure he wouldn’t have meant for anything he said to come across that way, at least,” Denise says, abandoning her examination of the plate of cookies in favour of addressing Chastity.

  “Presuming, of course, that he said anything that could be construed that way in the first place,” Belle adds, and Denise nods.

  “If he didn’t, then explain this Lucy girl’s attitude,” Diana says.

  “Since when does someone need a reason to be a bitch?” I ask.

  “Well, I wouldn’t call her a ...” Chastity coughs. “She was very cold to me. But she treated him like that too, sometimes ...” She looks up thoughtfully. “It was almost like a game, except sometimes she seemed too serious.”

  “That could just be her way with people,” Denise says.

  “Yeah, look at Diana,” I say. Chastity stares at me in shock, but turns back to Denise without saying anything to me. Fine. Be that way.

  “It’s possible, but ... honestly, I got the feeling that she was threatened by me.”

  “You’re not very threatening,” I say.

  Chastity smiles, and there’s an unsettling quality to it that I can’t quite pin down. “That depends,” she says before her face settles into a more ordinary expression. “In any case, it was very nice aside from that. I really think that Matthew and I are finally starting to get closer.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Belle says, though her tone implies that she thinks it’s anything but.

  “Thank you, Belle,” Chastity says. “I’ve also been spending more time at the mission these days.” To Diana, she adds: “When are you and David coming back? You’ll need another few shifts to get credit for your course, won’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “How many?”

  “Three,” Diana replies sharply.

  “Sounds like you’d rather go skydiving,” I say, mostly because I know it’ll piss her off. Sure enough, it does earn me a glare, but I’m a little disappointed when she doesn’t say anything.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Chastity says. “I think that she was warming up to it by the end: weren’t you, Diana?”

  Diana arches an eyebrow. “Did I look as though I was warming up to it?”

  Chastity’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t reply. Belle, probably to defuse the situation, turns to Diana. “Diana. Have you got anything to share today?”

  “Not really.”

  “Are you sure? You haven’t been very talkative recently.”

  “What am I supposed to talk about? My life consists of going to class and doing homework, with the occasional visit to the grocery store. Should I give you a blow-by-blow account of how I dealt with the vast selection of cheese?”

  Denise laughs, and chokes on a mouthful of tea. Over her coughing, Belle says: “There’s no need to be sarcastic. We’re all on the same side, remember?”

  “Of course we are.” Diana looks straight at me, and I stare right back at her until she turns back to Belle. “I’m fine. Go on.”

  Belle hesitates, but in the end, she nods and turns to me. “Sue. It’s your turn now.” Her voice is quiet; I can tell that she’s making a real effort not to upset me, and I appreciate it for what it’s worth. “If there’s anything you want to say, we’ll listen. We’re here for you.”

  “I know.” I think about it, but shake my head anyway. “It’s fine. I can’t right now.”

  “That’s alright,” Belle says. “Take your time.”

  “Yes, please do take your time,” Diana says. “We’re having so much fun watching you draw out your pity party.”

  I stand up. “Get out.”

  I hear Chastity gasp. Diana rises to her feet slowly, even as Belle starts rambling in a panicked voice. “Sue, please, I’m sure that she didn’t mean it that way. Diana, you should apologize for that, it wasn’t —”

  Diana doesn’t seem to hear her. Instead, she takes a step closer to me, and though I’m taller than her by at least a few inches, I have a very clear feeling of being looked down on. “Gladly,” she says. The next thing that I know, the door’s closing behind her, and I’m suddenly feeling very tired again.

  “Wow,” Denise breathes after a long, uncomfortable silence.

  “Yes,” Belle says. “I’m at a loss for words.” Her eyes are fixed on me, and I can tell that there’s so much that she wants to say, but something’s holding her back. I’ll probably be in for it the next time she gets me alone. Ordinarily, the thought of having an argument with Belle would make me nervous, but now I just can’t bring myself to care. I refuse to take crap from anyone. I’ve got enough to deal with already.

  I shuffle back to my chair and throw myself down into it. “How about ‘meeting adjourned’?” I manage to force a grin, but when no one else does anything but stare at me like I’m a freak, I shrug and get up again. “Okay, whatever. I’m going to lie down. You guys know where the door is; just let yourselves out when you’re done.”

  Diana

  AT 10 THE following morning, my phone rings, and I know that it must be Belle. She probably wants to discuss what happened yesterday, try to get me to apologize or something. I switch the phone into silent mode and go back to working on my Sociology assignment. I’m busy. She can wait.

  Belle doesn’t seem to think so, however. By 2:45, when I’m sitting in the empty classroom waiting for the other students and the teacher, she’s called four more times and sent a “Talk to me” text message.

  I reply, “I’ll call you later,” and turn my phone off completely.

  David comes in two minutes before class is scheduled to begin and drops his scuf
fed hiker’s backpack on the desk beside me. The noise is loud enough to make everyone else turn around, and I cringe. “Hey. How’s it going?”

  “Fine,” I reply, and bend over to retrieve my notebook and pens from my own bag.

  “Cool. I just got out of Macro ... damn, that test looks hard.” He opens his bag and pulls out a binder bulging with torn sheets, some of which are stained. I cannot believe that he keeps his notes in that. “Plus I just got assigned a paper for Friday. You know anything about economic equilibrium?”

  “No, but perhaps whoever wrote your textbook does.”

  “Yeah ... the one I didn’t buy.” He scratches his head with his pen. “Oh, well.”

  “How long does this paper have to be?”

  “About ... Hang on.” He reaches into his bag again, draws out a crumpled sheet of paper, and consults it. “250 words.”

  “250 words?”

  “Yeah.” He stuffs the paper back into his bag as though it’s trash rather than something that he’ll need again almost immediately. “That’s really long.”

  “It’s about one typed page, actually. Two if it’s double-spaced.”

  “Yeah, like I said. Long.” He looks up at the front of the class, then at his watch. “Teacher’s late.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  He grins. “Maybe it’s cancelled.”

  “It isn’t. I checked.” I wasn’t about to come here for nothing if I could help it.

  “Damn. But it could have been a sudden thing, and they didn’t have time to post it or whatever.” He drums his fingers on the desk, then turns back to me. “Hey, so when do you want to go back to that mission place? We’ve only got another month, right?”

  “Twenty-six days.”

  “Wow, you’re good.”

  “No, I’m organized.”

  “That too.” He smiles. “You okay for this weekend? Or is that too short notice for them?”

  “It’s as good as any other time. No one’s breaking down the doors to work in the soup kitchen.”

  “Hey, it’s a mission, not a soup kitchen. Don’t you remember the speech?” He chuckles.

  I frown. “Yes, I remember the speech quite well.” Another pause, during which I line up my pens by my open notebook. Where is that pitiful excuse for a teacher?

  “Oh, hey, I wanted to ask you,” David says, and I suppress a groan. I wouldn’t mind waiting so much if he’d just shut up.

  “Yes?”

  He doesn’t seem to notice. “Does Chastity have a boyfriend?”

  I stare at him for a moment. “Not unless God counts as a person. And even then it’s more of a twisted father-figure relationship than anything romantic.”

  “Hey, that’s really mean. And I’m being serious here.”

  “So am I.”

  He hesitates. “So ... that’s a no on the boyfriend, then?”

  I sigh and rub my forehead. “No, Chastity doesn’t have a boyfriend. But —”

  “That’s all I wanted to know. Thanks.” He grins as he turns back to the front of the class, where the teacher’s finally starting to set up, and I pick up my blue pen. If he does go ahead and ask her out, it should at least be entertaining.

  When I turn my phone back on after class, Belle has sent me another text message: “Can I come over?” I reply, “Yes,” and turn the phone off again.

  Belle arrives less than ten minutes after I get home, which gives me just enough time to put my bag away and change. “How are you doing?” she asks as soon as I’ve closed the door behind her.

  “I’m fine.” I follow her into the living room, and endure the obligatory hug. Where did she get this idea that every conversation has to begin and end with a hug, and how do I cure her of it?

  “Are you sure?” I let her go, and she backs away to examine my face. “After the meeting yesterday, I was very worried about you, and when you didn’t answer your phone —”

  “I was working on a paper.”

  “I see.” From her tone, I infer that she doesn’t consider that a good enough excuse for not having answered her call. “Have you spoken to anyone else? Chastity, or Denise ...” She hesitates, then adds, “Sue, perhaps?”

  “No.”

  Belle nods. “I didn’t think so. I haven’t been able to get in touch with Sue myself, and Chastity, Denise and I agreed that it might be best to give you some time to yourself.”

  “Then what are you doing here?”

  Belle looks shocked. “I’ve been worried about you, of course.”

  “Don’t be.” I sit down on the couch. “I’m fine.”

  After some deliberation, Belle chooses to sit on the other side of the couch. “I wouldn’t be if it had been me,” she states.

  “Well, for better or worse, I’m not you.”

  “I know.” She looks down at the cushion between us. “I didn’t realize that Sue was so depressed. I couldn’t believe the things that she was saying, the way that she was acting.”

  “Not to mention the state of her apartment.”

  “Yes.” Belle looks up at me. “I want you to understand that I’m not defending her. She was wrong and I’m sure that she’ll apologize to you as soon as she realizes it, but ...” She trails off.

  I decide to finish her sentence for her. “But I should have been nicer to her? Treated her like the rest of you did, all positive and encouraging?”

  “She may have found that more helpful.”

  “Of course she would have, and the meeting would have gone along smoothly and you’d have all gone home feeling good about yourselves, until that pitiful excuse for refreshment began to give you indigestion.” I fold my arms. “Sue doesn’t need to be coddled. She needs somebody to shock her out of this state she’s in and force her to get up and get herself together.”

  Belle is silent for a time. “I understand that that’s what you were trying to do, but it seems that it may have done more harm than good.”

  “Of course it did. The way that things went, she had the choice to listen to the three of you instead. I was the only one that wasn’t feeding her that garbage, so it was easy for her to paint me as the bad guy.”

  “We couldn’t support you, Diana.”

  “You wouldn’t support me.”

  “If you believe that we chose Sue over you —”

  “I couldn’t care less if you did.” She freezes, and I continue. “I said what I thought would be most helpful to her in the long run, and she got upset. So, fine: let her dig herself a hole in that pile of trash she calls an apartment and crawl into it. It’s not my problem.”

  “I believe it is. You did make several extremely critical comments about her apartment, and the refreshments, and —”

  “She gave us stale cookies on a filthy plate, and she expected us to take sugar right out of the bag with dirty spoons.”

  “She’s upset.”

  “Then she shouldn’t have insisted on having the meeting.” I stare back at Belle. “I don’t see what’s so hard about this.”

  “She’s our Sister. Couldn’t you be a bit more understanding?”

  And here’s the real issue. “This Sisterhood thing is so very important to you, isn’t it, Belle?”

  “Of course it is,” she replies immediately. “I love you all. I think of you as family.” She pauses, then adds, uncomfortably, “I would hope that you feel the same way about me.”

  “You know how I feel about you.” I’ve never been good with this sentimental nonsense, and Belle should understand that by now. “If you care about someone as family, then you should be ready to put their needs over everything else —”

  “When have I ever not —”

  “— including,” I say, raising my voice to be heard over hers, “the peace within that family.”

  For a long time, Belle doesn’t say anything; she just stares at me with her lips parted, obviously horrified. “Are you suggesting that I would prefer to let Sue suffer just for the sake of avoiding a fight?”

  “It
certainly looked that way to me yesterday.”

  “It wasn’t like that at all. I simply didn’t see anything to be gained by forcing the issue.”

  “Obviously. But I did, and I won’t apologize for that.”

  “I see.” Belle turns away from me, then stands up. “I’m on my way to check up on Sue. I hope that you’ll decide to apologize to her once you’ve had a chance to think it over; I think that would make a great difference to her.”

  “I’m sure it would.” Belle seems to be waiting for me to say more, so I add, “We’ll see.” I’ll drink bleach before I apologize to her for this.

  Belle hesitates for a moment longer, but in the end, she seems to accept that this is the best that she’s going to get. “Alright, then. Take care, Diana.”

  I only realize once she’s left that, for what might well be the first time, I’ve managed to escape the parting hug.

  Belle

  I TRY CALLING Sue as I leave Diana’s house, but she doesn’t answer. Then again, I don’t expect her to. She’s doing far worse than I realized. I should never have let her off so easily last time; I won’t make that mistake twice.

  She doesn’t respond to the intercom either. I’m about to turn away when another resident opens the door to come out, and I walk in. No security here, that’s for sure.

  I knock on Sue’s door — no answer. I can hear the drone of a television, but the walls in this building are so thin it could be coming from anywhere on this floor. I knock once more. Then, I take out the key Sue gave me when she first moved in. In case of emergency.

  “Sue?” I call as I enter. The cookies and tea are still on the coffee table. Has she really not been as far as the living room in twenty-four hours? I crane my neck to check the bathroom. It’s dark. She’s not in there. The kitchen is also empty, and so I continue toward the bedroom. “Sue?”

  I open the bedroom door slowly, just enough to slip in. She’s on the bed, sprawled face-down in the same clothes that she was wearing yesterday. “Sue,” I say softly, and she lifts her head, muttering unintelligibly.

  “Belle?” she says, and rolls onto her side with an obvious effort. Her eyes are half-closed, and she recoils from the afternoon sunlight streaming through her window. “What’re you doing here?” Her voice is rough, sleep-coarsened.