A Tale of Beauty Read online

  Denise

  I WAKE UP to the man in the apartment next door coaxing some distorted attempt at music from his electronic keyboard. We’ve spoken about this, though never seriously. It’s actually become something of a joke between us: I comment on how early he begins practicing; he reminds me how demanding a mistress his art can be. In the end, we both laugh, and the next morning, he turns the volume up a bit further.

  Men can be so dense.

  I roll over, onto one of the teddy bears I keep on one side of the double bed. I still don't know why I bought a double instead of a twin, but by the time I came to my senses, it was already set up, and I didn’t feel like taking it down again. Not the first thing I’ve kept around for that reason, and probably not the last.

  I open my eyes and smile at the sunlight coming in through the space between the curtains. Finally. It’s been cloudy for days. Feeling energized, I sit up, stretch, and get out of bed. The desk calendar on my nightstand happens to catch my eye, and I wonder what the green circle around today’s date is supposed to mean.

  And then it hits me! Suddenly, the noise from next door no longer matters.

  “I can’t believe I forgot,” I say as I stumble down the short corridor to my kitchen. I’ve got the mixing bowl out of the cupboard before I remember there’s no one to hear me, and I’m measuring flour before I decide I don’t have time to care about how crazy I sound.

  Once the cake is in the oven, I glance at the clock. It’s 9:30. They won’t be arriving until 11:15. Forty-five minutes to clean, ten to shower ... Should leave me enough time to throw together something for lunch. I might even have a few seconds to breathe if I’m lucky.

  Without another thought, I get down on the kitchen floor and drag the Windex, the paper towels, and the furniture polish from the cupboard under the sink. “I can’t believe I forgot,” I repeat. The sound of the cupboard door slamming drowns out the last word of my new mantra.

  By 11:00, I’m exhausted, but also quite proud of myself. The furniture almost shimmers in the light from the freshly-cleaned windows. I scan the carpet for dirt, and find none. Diana might, but hopefully she’ll be in a tactful mood and forget to mention it.

  I put the PlayStation controller away on the TV stand beside the remotes, then bring out the refreshments: a chocolate cake with that whipped icing Sue likes so much and a perfectly symmetrical pyramid of sandwiches. The teapot that I set between the plates next is warm, not hot, and there are already five neatly-folded napkins at one end of the table. It looks good.

  “I’m ready.”

  The intercom buzzes, and I squeeze my eyes shut against a spike of anxiety as I press the button.

  “I’m so not ready.”

  Of course, it’s Diana. She makes such a point of being early that I wonder if she’d be upset to find herself arriving exactly on time.

  “Anyone else here?” she asks with habitual abruptness.

  “Not yet.”

  “Good.” She sits next to the television, the furthest from the coffee table. “Your apartment looks clean, as always.”

  “It’s really nothing special.”

  “I didn’t say it was,” she says, taking a small bottle of hand sanitizer out of her purse.

  The buzzer sounds again a minute later, and I repeat the cycle of answering it and waiting at the door; this time, the anxiety is more difficult to suppress. I glance at Diana, so that she won’t feel ignored, but she seems to have chosen to forget my existence in favour of examining the arm of her chair. I cast about for something to say, but then Sue and Chastity are coming out of the elevator, and I have to greet them instead.

  “Is she here already?” Sue shouts down the hall. It’s a long-running not-quite-joke between her and Diana that she wants, just once, to arrive somewhere first.

  “Sorry,” I say as I step aside to let them in, and Sue makes a show of being disappointed when she sees Diana silhouetted before the window. I leave them to entertain each other while I turn to hug Chastity. She’s wearing a long skirt and a silken but not at all transparent blouse. Against its white surface, her gold cross seems to gleam twice as brightly. By contrast, Sue is wearing a short denim jacket over a tank top and jeans so tight I know that not even lying down could have made it any easier for her to fasten them.

  “How are you, Denise?” Chastity says warmly against my shoulder, giving me the cue to let her go. “Thank you for having us over.” She smiles, and I smile back as we both go into the living room. Sue has already taken one of the floor cushions by the coffee table, while Chastity sits delicately on the couch.

  “The food looks great,” Sue says as Chastity arranges her skirt and smiles at Diana, who returns the gesture with a simple nod. “You’re such an amazing cook, Denise. I’m going to make you give me lessons one of these days.”

  I laugh politely. “Well, they are only sandwiches. I’m sure even you could manage one of those.”

  Sue snorts. “Yeah, right. Have you forgotten that cake I made for my last meeting?”

  “Hardly,” Diana says. “It takes talent to make something that vile out of a mix.”

  Sue glowers at Diana, but the buzzer rings again before she can reply. I swallow, and glance at the clock. Before my eyes, it changes to 11:15. Belle. Right on time.

  I hit the button to let her in. This is the hardest part, when she’s present only as a phantom, a distant, as yet formless entity. The Devil who will soon be in the House, only because she would never stand for being compared to the Angel. In a way, that’s what we all are: Angels in recovery.

  The elevator door opens a few seconds later, but I don’t recognize the woman who gets off. I should really start making sure that I’m buzzing in the right people; I’ll let an axe murderer in one of these days. While I’m reprimanding myself, though, the woman turns to speak to someone behind her, and Belle steps out of the elevator. Oh, my God. She’s brought someone. I fight the urge to whip my head around to catalogue the food, and content myself with a mental estimate. There should be enough. More importantly, did she tell me about this, or do I have an excuse for not being ready?

  The stranger and Belle walk up the corridor side by side.

  “Hello, Denise,” Belle says sweetly. “I took the liberty of inviting one of my friends. I’m sure that’s alright with you.”

  “Of course,” I reply, and we step into the apartment. I close the door and take a deep breath. Showtime: keep it together, Denise.

  “And that’s Diana,” Belle says, completing her introductions. “Everyone, this is Michelle. I hope no one minds that I invited her, but I was so eager for you to meet her.” She places her hand on Michelle’s shoulder. “I told her we don’t bite, but she’s still nervous, so let’s all be especially nice to her.”

  As the expected wave of laughter moves through the room, I take my place on the floor next to Sue and look up into Belle’s grinning face. No, we don’t bite, but if you ever get on our bad side, you’ll wish we did.

  Once Michelle is settled on the couch beside Chastity, and Belle in the recliner, I gesture to the food. “Well, help yourselves, girls. Diets are officially suspended.”

  Sue rolls her eyes. “Oh, don’t I wish.”

  Everyone except Belle laughs, and her silence makes everyone but Michelle turn to look at her. Michelle, for her part, has already stacked a napkin with at least four sandwiches, and begins to inhale them while I wonder how I might have offended Belle already.

  “Is something the matter, Belle?” I ask once a suitable silence has elapsed. She never says anything until someone asks this question, but if you don’t wait long enough, she only says, “Nothing.”

  She turns to me and smiles. “Oh, I’ve just noticed that there are only five teacups, and s
ix of us.”

  “Well, of course, because ...” I cut my justification short. There’s no point in finishing it. “I’ll get another one.”

  “I’m sorry,” Michelle says in the grating voice of a teen movie heroine as she decimates another layer of the pyramid.

  By the time I track down a cup, spoon and saucer that match those I’ve laid out, the others have already begun eating. Together, they’ve taken as much as Michelle did in her first helping. My eyes meet Belle’s, and I smile tentatively.

  “And the napkins?” she says. “There were only five of those, as well.”

  Sue pats my leg consolingly as I get up once again, return to the kitchen, fold another napkin, and bring it back to the living room. I’m sure that Belle made a point of waiting until I’m on my way back to say: “That’s why I always believe in having extra of everything laid out. After all, you never know who’s going to spill what where, and the few seconds you save not having to run for paper towels might make the difference between a small stain and a huge one.” She laughs, finally, and I slump down on my cushion.

  The next few minutes are occupied with pouring the tea and accepting compliments from the others. This is my favourite part of the ritual, but it’s also the shortest; as soon as everyone has been served, Belle puts her napkin down on the coffee table and raises her teacup.

  “Ladies,” she says, “I call this meeting of the Ugly Sisterhood to order.”

  We raise our cups and sip our tea, Michelle a few seconds later than the rest of us. “So, what exactly is this Ugly Sisterhood thing?” she asks just before cramming an entire egg salad sandwich into her mouth.

  “Well, it began as a gathering of friends, but by now I think we’re more like family.” Belle smiles. “Like everyone else, we’ve had our share of troubles in life, and we’ve come together to help each other deal with those troubles.” Her expression turns thoughtful. “Take men, for instance. In our dealings with them, we‘ve come to the realization that they are ...” She looks to us. “In a word, ladies?”

  “Pigs,” Diana supplies immediately.

  “Whores,” Sue says.

  “Heathens,” Chastity murmurs.

  “Users,” I say, and the word scrapes the dull blade of ancient pain across my soul.

  “Not to mention completely ignorant of what constitutes true beauty,” Belle finishes. “Of course, we generalize, but that has been our experience with them. As Sisters, therefore, we share the negative aspects of those experiences and the pain that comes with them. In this way, we make it bearable, and I hope that we may one day enable each other to grow past it.” She sips her tea, very seriously, and Chastity and I follow suit. Diana is watching Belle politely, but Michelle is staring at her in something approaching awe.

  “Wow. That’s really deep,” she says. “But, um, can I ask a question? Why ‘Ugly’?”

  Belle chuckles. “You could say we identified with the archetype.” She sets her cup and saucer down on the coffee table, perfectly undisturbed by the fact that her reply only seems to have added to Michelle’s confusion. “Any new business?”

  No one says anything: this is usual. In fact, none of us are quite sure what would qualify as ‘new business’.

  “There never is,” Belle says to Michelle, who smiles back at her.

  I can only imagine what Belle must think of her, what she’ll say to me before this week is over. Why would she bring her here, this woman who could never understand what we feel, why we felt it, and how helpless we are to stop it from happening again? Why are we being told there’s a possibility that Michelle could be our Sister when she might as well belong to a different species?

  Belle raises her head, and I follow her gaze to Chastity. “How is Matthew?” she asks, and Chastity hurriedly swallows the food that it seems she has only just realized is in her mouth.

  “He’s very well, thank you,” she replies.

  “Is everything alright between you?” Belle’s manner turns sympathetic. “Please, don’t hold back on Michelle’s account. She won’t judge you. Isn’t that right?” Her voice drops nearly to a coo as she glances at Michelle, and all I can think is how mortified I would be in Michelle’s place right now. Does she not even realize that the only reason Belle asked her here was to share the fun of laughing at her?

  As Michelle nods eagerly, Chastity shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “It’s nothing new. It’s just that ... Well, I called him yesterday, like I do every week.” I presume that the last bit is for Michelle’s benefit.

  “Always commendable,” Belle interjects.

  Chastity smiles. “Thank you. Yesterday ...” She leans over the coffee table and lowers her voice. “A girl answered.”

  Diana clicks her tongue; Sue puts her hand over her mouth.

  “I thought that he wasn’t dating,” Belle says gently.

  “He’s not.” Chastity’s shoulders sag. “She was very cold to me, even after I told her that I was his sister.”

  “Don’t worry, Chastity,” says Michelle. “I’m sure it was just a one-night thing.”

  Sue glares at her. Diana clears her throat, and Belle pats Michelle’s hand. “In some ways, that’s worse,” she whispers, and Michelle’s gaze turns from consoling to confused, then apologetic.

  “It’s alright. You didn’t know.” Chastity’s tone is forgiving, but I wouldn’t blame her if there were decidedly unsaintly thoughts concerning Michelle’s intelligence going through her mind. They’re certainly in mine. “I just ... I pray for him every night, and every chance I get during the day. I light candles for him every week. I try to tell him what he’s doing wrong without being too invasive ... I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

  As I incline my head sympathetically, Sue kneels next to Chastity, who in turn yields to her embrace. “You’re doing everything you can,” she says.

  “Pearls before swine, Chastity,” Diana adds.

  “They’re right, Chastity,” I put in, mostly because I haven’t said anything yet. “I think it’s commendable that you care so much about him. You’re a very good sister. Not your fault he doesn’t appreciate you.”

  “Of course you are,” Sue murmurs soothingly. This sort of maternal comfort comes naturally to her and, though I think she may be too quick to offer it at times, I can’t say that it doesn’t work. When Sue has her arms around me, and the rest of them are feeding me platitudes, I fully believe in the Sisterhood’s miraculous power to make me well, to make me whole again. I have always envied Sue that gift; of course, I can’t recall having met anyone in whom I haven’t found something to envy.

  “I can’t stand to see him destroying his soul like that,” Chastity whispers.

  “But what can you do about it?” Belle gets to her feet and picks up the teapot. “You can’t help anyone who doesn’t want to be helped. Isn’t that one of the tenets of your religion, that God helps those who help themselves?” She splashes some tea into Chastity’s cup, filling it to the brim. “He has to take the first step. You’re only hurting yourself by trying to help him before he does that.”

  “I know,” Chastity says, “but that doesn’t make it easier.”

  I look around the room, at each of my Sisters in turn. I study Diana, whose standards of conduct are so high that no one could ever come close to satisfying them. I watch Sue, who has never thought to offer men anything more substantial than her body and has come to hate them for accepting it, comforting Chastity, who sincerely believes that anyone who doesn’t hold to her version of God has a place reserved for them in Hell.

  Finally, yet first among us, there is Belle, who holds my grandmother’s teapot as though it belongs to her, who has always had the gift of stepping into our lives as easily as though those belonged to her as well. Maybe they do, and in that case I guess we only have ourselves to blame for holding them up to her like offerings to a demi-goddess. But in our defense, she found us once we had already been destroyed. And why were we destroyed, why did we come under attack in
the first place? Because we weren’t pretty enough, weren’t giving enough, or giving too much? Was it because we dared to ask for respect?

  “Denise?” Belle says, and I blink.

  “Yes?” Suddenly conscious of the fact everyone’s looking at me, I laugh uneasily. “I’m sorry, Belle. I was a bit distracted.”

  “That’s all right. It’s just that we’re out of tea.”

  By the time I return with a fresh pot, Sue is speaking. Based on the usual order of things, that means Diana’s turn has passed. “I think he’s about ready,” she’s telling Belle. “I’ll probably do it this week, or next.”

  “Which one is this?” Belle asks.

  “Nick, wasn’t it?” Diana says with just the barest hint of disdain.

  “That’s right.” Sue glances at her, and there’s no longer any evidence of the compassionate woman who comforted Chastity in her smirking face. “Anyway, he’s starting to talk about the future, and stuff like that. He’s ripe.”

  “Ripe for what?” Michelle grins idiotically. “Oh, my God, are you getting engaged?”

  Sue laughs aloud, and the sound is as cruel as it is sharp. I notice that Chastity averts her eyes, as she often does when the topic of Sue’s favourite hobby comes up.

  “Of course not,” Belle says impatiently to Michelle before she turns back to Sue. “Where do you plan to break it off this time?”

  “I don’t think it really matters. He’s not the type to make a scene, unfortunately.” Sue shrugs, and though I’ve had years to get used to it, it’s still mildly shocking to me that she can talk so cavalierly about devastating someone. “I’ll probably just go to his apartment.”

  “Oh.” Michelle looks at Belle, then back at Sue. “Is it not working out, or ...”

  “It’s working out just fine,” Sue says, and her smirk breaks into a grin.

  “Sue makes something of a game out of developing and terminating relationships with men,” Belle explains. Chastity shakes her head almost imperceptibly as she takes a long swallow of tea. “At the moment, she’s about to enter the ‘termination’ phase.”