– So it’s you ? She said to the woman at the bar
The other, a beautiful brunette in a carmine dress, looked puzzled.
– Yes, she continued, you’re my husband’s mistress.
A veil of fear passed on the brunette’s face.
– Don’t fear, dear, I’ve been fascinated by you for a long time now. I wondered who he went to and why. Now it’s obvious.
– And why is it ? hesitated the brunette.
– Look at how beautiful you are. You have the sense of elegance he craves, your eyes glitter with wit and intelligence, your figure is flawless.
The brunette’s eyes went sideways.
– Oh, no, don’t humble yourself. I don’t mean to make you shy. I’m glad it’s you, is all, and not the bitch over there.
She pointed at a girl in silvery high heels, a pink mini skirt and an ostentatious cleavage.
– She has no class whatsoever. I’m sure she’ll do anything in bed, but god, to be second only to a slut like this. That would be upsetting.
– You’re not second.
– Of course I am. Every chance he gets he runs to you.
A silence.
– Did you like Florence ?
The brunette’s cheeks rosied. She almost coughed her martini out. The wife laughed. Pearls raining on a xylophone.
– You’re cute, too. I don’t mean it in an infantilizing way.
– You knew ?
– Of course, darling. I have eyes.
– But how ?
– Let’s say he’s not very discreet.
After a pause: « He didn’t tell me, if that’s what you’re asking »
– Why are you doing this ?
– I told you. I’m fascinated by you. I’ve tried to picture you in my mind for months now. I’ve learnt to recognize your perfume, and to hear the soft variation in his voice when he speaks to you or about you. It’s nothing, really, it barely lowers one octave but when you listen carefully enough, you notice it. He’s stopped loving me a long time ago. I guess seeing how he loves you now reminds me of what it used to be.
– It must hurt.
– I thought so. Turns out it doesn’t. Not really. It’s more like a nostalgic feeling. You cry over something that is gone but you have no hope of getting it back so it’s not painful. It’s just sad, but in a good way.
The brunette held her hand out.
– I’m Ivy.
– Ivy, said the wife while holding her hand. I’m so glad we’ve met. I’m Laura.
– I know, whispered Ivy.
Laura freed the brunette’s hand, still smiling. She brought her margarita to her lips in a sensual move.
– I have to go now, she said. And she left.