See you in St. Tropez

“Here’s your glass of rosé,” the waiter broke the awkward silence.

“Thanks,” Eva heard herself say. Her voice sounded weak, tears rolling down her cheek.

The waiter, not knowing what to do, uncorked the bottle and splashed some wine into the glass – an invitation to taste. She looked at him in surprise which made him fill the glass to the top and quickly disappear, asking no further questions.

“Why are you crying, silly?” Elly seemed worried with such a sincere concern on her face which Eva thought she rarely saw her friend display. She was clearly worried, despite the unspoken taboo people like Elly had on openly expressing their emotions. Being an iron lady, a snow queen, she never showed what she really felt. Never. That was the reason many openly disliked her for her coldness, arrogant confidence, and condescending attitude. Elly never cried. But in that instance her heart was filled with pain and compassion that have forced the iron mask she had worn off her face. Although, she did not really cry, you could see something in her eyes – the eternal sadness, and to Eva’s surprise, warmth and unmistakable urge to help a friend to cope with the terrible news.

“Eva, stop crying or I’ll cry myself!”

“I don’t even know why I reacted this way,” Eva said weeping.

“You sure you don’t want wine?”

“No, thanks,” Eva said, taking another sip of champagne.

“Poor guy,” Elly said, looking at the waiter who stood at the opposite corner of the restaurant, discreetly looking at two friends. “He’s probably worried for you. I bet he wishes he had brought vodka.”

“Tell me, how did it happen? I still cannot believe it. I cannot even say it aloud. How old is she? I mean was…,” having realized the extent of the tragedy, Eva burst in tears all over again.

“Eva, baby. Please, do not cry. Had I known…. I would have had you over to tell you… and then we would’ve come here. I should’ve listened to Rosa.”

“Listened to Rosa?” Eva was confused.

“She said you’re rather sensitive, yet you try to look strong and rebellious. But in reality, you’re just a baby whale who’s still holding on to the mother’s flippers…”

“She’s right. As always,” Eva sadly agreed. By then she had stopped crying but her cheeks were wet and eyes puffy.

“I hope she’s right only about that. You’ve no idea, all the time we were walking here she was screwing my brain, trying to convince me not to go to the restaurant dressed like this.”

“What’s wrong with your outfit? I think you look amazing for someone who only got four-hour sleep.”

“She doesn’t think so. She told me I looked like a pale moth and today there may be just the right man who will pass by me without ever noticing. Or, even if he noticed, he wouldn’t be as impressed. When it comes to men it’s all about the first impression. Don’t you look at me like that. It is not my idea, it’s all Rosa’s. She believes that if a man sees you all beautiful, stunningly dressed, that’s how he’s going to keep seeing you forever – even when you’re not wearing any makeup or dressed in a bathrobe… In other words, if he likes you the way you are naturally, with bed hair, without makeup, just like I am now, then no matter what you wear later – he will perceive you as a simple woman who isn’t capable to impress any other men. And since all men are primitive, according to Rosa of course, and driven by natural instincts, the other kind of women – who are able to attract other men. Don’t know if I made much sense, but something like that…”

“What kind of trash is that. Utter nonsense. Now you have to wear a corset and have a whip in order to be loved?”

“I wish. If only you knew what I have to listen every Friday night before going out. She is never pleased. Now, I look too humble, and pale. Other times, vulgar, like a whore. She’s a true Madame Paradox. She makes me sick,” Elly rolled her eyes and took another sip of wine. “And now imagine me having to listen to this nonsense non-stop! And today it went on over the phone. God have mercy on my poor ears.”

While Elly was complaining about her granny Eva finished her glass.

“Another one, Madame?” asked the waiter who seemed to have suddenly popped out form the thin air, startling Eva. “Oh, my apologies. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No worries. Yes, please. I’ll have another one. I’m not hungry though, thanks.

The waiter disappeared.

“He annoys the heck out of me,” Elly snapped. “Anyway. Just promise me you won’t be crying anymore! Otherwise I won’t be able to tell you the rest… of what I know… or keep learning about.,” Elly was now looking at her phone which she never turned off.

“How do you keep learning…?”

“Well, Instagram of course. Why do you even need one? Are you even subscribed to anyone? You never seem to know what’s going on.”

“You know I don’t like gossips!”

“I do know. But I can’t believe you’re not even slightly curious?”

“No. Besides, what you just told me is no gossips, it’s a sad, sad news. How could this happen?” Eva’s face fell, though this time she managed not to cry. “And what does Instagram have to do with any of that?”

“Come on. There is now a new hashtag. #RIPBella. So far, twenty-seven posts.”

“And what are they about?”

“Well obviously mostly bunch of hypocrites. I’ve literally been in shock since morning. How could people be like that. How could anyone hate a person, turn away from her, because of that story, you know; And now after she hanged herself, write how much they loved her and how much she meant to them. blah blah blah…”

“What? Hanged herself???”

“Yes, she did. The girls wrote she hanged on a strap from her silk negligee.”

“You’re kidding? Is that true?” Eva was in shock. She leaned back in her chair in an awkward position without seeming to care about how she looked. Her “24/7 perfect look control,” was now disabled. “When did it happen? Today or yesterday?”

“Hey girl, slow down on that champagne….,” Elly was looking at the empty glass her friend was still holding in her hands.”

“I can’t drink anymore. I was planning for one glass and Benedict’s eggs.”

“Eggs Benedict,” corrected Elly.

“Pardon?”

“You said… Benedict’s eggs…,” Elly said barely containing laughter.

“I couldn’t have said that,” Eva disagreed. “You misheard me.”

“Either way. Sounded weird,” Elly was now laughing.

“Elly, even if I did misspeak, you know what Chekhov said on the matter – Good breeding is shown, not by not upsetting the sauce, but by not noticing it when somebody else does,” Eva sounded clearly displeased, her voice cold.

“Ok, sorry.” Elly was trying to stop laughing. “I won’t argue with Mr. Chekhov. I completely agree. But you can’t deny the name of the dish, is weird. I am positive, you were not only one who misspoke about the eggs in such a way.”

“Elly! Will you stop it. It’s not the time…”

“Ok then…” Elly took a big sip of wine hoping it will help with the hysterical laughter.

“So, when did it happen?” Eva asked in a serious tone.

“Well… turns out, it happened three weeks ago but it wasn’t until today that everyone found out.”

“Oh my god. Three weeks, Elly. She’s been dead three weeks and we find out about it today? From Instagram? What kind of world are we living in? What kind of society? It hurts me to even think about it. Poor girl… She couldn’t take it. When everyone found out her secret and turned away.”

“For the first time, I am inclined to agree…,” Elly sighed and took another sip.