Mable finds herself pitch forward as her body feels entirely too weak to remain seated and she impacts her face against the hard wood floor. It causes her considerable pain to have her soft flesh bite against the more rigid material, but she is far more concerned with the damage done to the inanimate object than for her own skin.
She immediately rolls over and inspects the article still attached to her face with her long fingers. All seems to be as it was and not a single crack appears to have been exacerbated by the violence enacted. She then removes it so she can hold it close to herself and never let go, ever again.
She starts to wonder about the words spoken during her journey through the dreams. Is this mask, powerful as it is, merely a crutch? A means to keep her from growing beyond her trauma? If so, does this mean she likes being sick in the head? Or is it something more, something deeper?
She doesn't care about the power. She doesn't care if she never dreamed again. What she wants is to never forget that which was taken from her. She wants to forever remember her friend, no matter the pain it causes her. She just- She shuts her eyes. It is too painful to dwell on it any further.
She starts to cry and cannot help herself from balling like a baby as she removes her mask and holds it close. It's times like these that the young, adult woman feels more like a little girl than she did when she was that age. She feels adrift in a world she does not understand and hasn't the capacity to comprehend.
She hears the front door open. "Mable? Are you home?" Marie inquires as she sniffs. "Mable, I need to talk to you."
"I'm here," the saddened woman calls from the darkness as she turns to her side, but cannot stop crying.
"Mable?" Marie cries out as she drops to the floor and hugs her friend. "What's wrong?"
The woman of the mask tries her best to cement her sorrow into understandable words, but fails at every turn and just buries her head in her friend's shoulder.
"It's alright," Marie assures her and strokes her head. "Let it all out."
They remain that way for several minutes and do not bother to slacken their hold on each other.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Mable manages at last as she pushes her friend to arm's length and wipes her eyes. "You said, you said you wanted to see me about something."
Marie smiles. "It, it doesn't matter," she puts forward as she wipes the tears from her eyes and pats her roommate's head. "Just tell me your sorrow and I will chase it away."
Mable takes a moment to collect herself as she sorts through the facts of the matter. "I used to have a friend, Liza," she determines what is believable as she proceeds and looks down to the article in her hand. "She's the one who gave me this mask."
"I always wondered about that," Marie carries on, quite forgetting her role as sorrow chaser as she gazes upon the face covering. "I just thought it was your mom or dad."
Mable chuckles. "No, this was neither of them," she refutes the assumption and brings the object closer, between the two of them. "They could never give me something so beautiful."
Marie looks deep into her roommate's eyes while sifting through the more relevant details of the story and pushing aside those aspects that seem less so. "What happened?" she queries and sets a hand on her shoulder.
"She died," Mable throws the harsh truth like a bucket of ice water as her face goes blank. "That is she was killed, right before my eyes, and there was nothing I could do about it. She's dead because I…" She dissolves into terrible sobs.
"Hey, hey now," Marie consoles her to the best of her ability as she rubs her back and holds her close. "It wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done. You were-"
"Don't patronize me!" Mable suddenly erupts and pushes her friend away. "You don't know anything about it. And you're filling me with empty platitudes. How can you even know it's not my fault when you know nothing about it?"
Marie is taken completely aback by the sudden outburst. "Because I know you," she fights back as she pushes forward despite the hands that try to repel her. "I know that if there was anything you could have done, even the smallest of things, we would not be having this conversation."
The angry woman stops her assault and freezes in place. "Nothing I could do," she repeats in absent fashion and looks to the mask. "Nothing I could do."
The concerned woman pushes the article away from sight. "It's okay Mable," she assures her and rubs her arm.
The woman receiving all the attention starts to break down again. "I'm so sorry Marie," she blubbers and falls completely into her embrace. "I'm so sorry."
"It's okay Mable," the newly entered woman soothes the soul of her confederate as she strokes her cheek. "I'm your friend, and like it or not, there is nothing you can do to change it."
The bereaved woman takes a moment to absorb the information. She wants to say something, but all she can do is laugh. Her friend joins in and soon, there are tears anew being shed as they hug each other close.
At last Mable is able to bring herself under control and gently pushes her friend away. "Thank you Marie," she breathes as she continues to draw in air under somewhat strained gasping. "But tell me, what is it you want to tell me?"
The roommate takes hold of her emotional response as well. "It's, it's nothing," she lies and looks away.
Mable cups her chin and pulls her face back. "I'm your friend, just as you are mine," she informs her and gives a smile. "I want to chase your sorrows too."
"But there's nothing that can be done," Marie gushes again as she sinks inside herself.
"Please, just let me help you," Mable pleads with her and holds her hand tightly.
"It's just that, that… They found out!" Maria spills as she hugs her friend tightly.
"You mean…" Mable utters as she puts the pieces together and fights the surprise form her person as she continues to comfort her roommate.
"Yeah," Maria answers the unspoken question and sobs that much louder.
"What happened?" Mable inquires as she pats her friend's head.
Maria pushes her to arm's length. "We were just sitting, having dinner like we always do, when the waiter asked me and Janelle if we wanted our usual," she paints the situation with the barest of strokes and wipes her eyes with her forearm. "I gave him a look, but it was too late. I tried to walk back the slip, but the more I tried to play it off as simple friendship to Marion, the more Janelle was dismayed by my lie." She sniffs several times. "In the end they both had figured it out and…" She starts crying again.
"They dumped you," Mable processes and spits out the report as she hugs her that much closer.
"Yeah," Maria affirms the assumption while she fights to remain coherent. "Both of them, just like that." She snaps her fingers. "Now, now they won't even talk to me. They deleted me from their accounts and erased my texts." She sniffs again and rubs her nose. "I don't even dare approach them." She lowers her head. "I'm all alone!"
Mable wraps her arms that much tighter and allows her friend's head to lower into her lap as she continues to cry her eyes out. "It's okay," she soothes her as she runs her fingers through her head. "Tomorrow the sun will come up and you'll still be you. And in time, they'll both sit down with you and let you explain."
Maria looks up. "They will?" she chirps as though it were her last gasp and pulls the hair from her eyes.
"Yes," Mable assures her and brushes the lochs back into the fold. "But you have to give them time. You're hurting right now and so are they. They need to come to grips with what has been done to them." She could have gone on, but it would have been difficult navigating the minefield littered with it being her fault all over the place. Instead, she's happy to just let her fall asleep and rest her exasperated self.
Classes are not far behind and the women rouse and dress themselves for the appropriate occasion before sitting down to a simple meal prepared by both of them of eggs, sausages, toast and milk. Mable is no longer so inclined to be experimental in the kitchen since her taste buds caught up with her in her teens.
She's chowing down when a thought occurs to her. "Have you been out all night?" she puts to her roommate as she sets down her fork.
Marie swallows her morsel. "I was, that is I… Yes, I've been out all night," she admits with a sheepish demeanor and stabs absentmindedly at her sausage.
"And you're not drunk?" Mable observes as she notes the steadiness of her dining companion's hand.
"I tried to but…" Marie endeavors to explain as she picks up her cup and swishes the milk about without feeling the need to drink it. "But, every time I picked up a glass I couldn't get past the heartbreak I was feeling. And I knew…" She starts to sob. "I knew that if I drank despite myself, I would try calling them and I wouldn't quit till they told me off, or I was arrested for harassment. So, I stayed with myself and I drank a lot of coffee instead."
Mable reaches across the table and takes hold of her roommate's empty hand. "Why didn't you come home?" she wonders aloud and looks deep into her eyes.
The abashed woman smiles and returns the gaze. "I knew you'd be meditating, since you wake up so early," she explains her behavior and keeps her eyes directed downward. "I didn't want to disturb you."
"Marie, I'm your friend," Mable reminds her as she pats her hand. "I may not always respond during my meditations, but I don't want you to feel as though you have to walk on eggshells around me, not for any reason."
The roommate wipes the tears from her eyes as they both smile at each other and dig in. They acknowledge that time is running low for them to enjoy a proper breakfast before they have to hurry off to class. So, they gobble down what remains, drain the rest of the beverage and hurry off to their individual activities.
The rest of the day plays out, more or less, as it should and there are no further incidents to report at this time. For Marie it was all about coping with her loss and staying as invisible as possible while she fought with herself to figure out her next move. For Mable it was mostly being the shield her friend needed and anxiously awaiting her date with Simon later that very night.
It is a time that very nearly, suddenly comes upon her and she becomes a bundle of nerves while her roommate sees to helping her the best she can. The woman of the current focus wants so badly to look natural, but finds herself fretting over every detail. She wants to look nice, alluring, as he so aptly put it.
Marie only helps as little as is necessary to keep the inexperienced, amorous one from straying too far from the proper path. In the end Mable looks into the mirror and sees a person she recognizes and is proud to be the visage of. She then gathers herself up and takes hold of a purse to further class up her look.
Marie places her arm around her friend's shoulders as they both gaze into the mirror. "You look…" she struggles to come up with the appropriate word as she searches the reflected face.
"Like me," Mable volunteers without any hint of malice or fear and she turns and plants a kiss on her roommate's cheek.
Marie draws away, embarrassed. "What was that for?" she queries as confusion creases her face.
"Just for being there for me," the gussied up woman answers and gives her a hug. "Especially when I make it difficult."
"Oh Mable," the takenaback woman gushes and returns the gesture as she leans to her ear. "You're never gonna get rid of me." The two give a powerful squeeze before breaking. "Now, it's high time you are off before he thinks you stood him up. Don't you think?"
A bit of panic crosses her countenance and she hurries out of the apartment while frantically checking her person over and over again to ensure she had not forgotten anything. She hadn't, but that didn't stop her from worrying all the same.
Her date was waiting for her in the same place as before, but this time there was no bazaar, nor was his phone in either of his hands. He was wearing a simple, loud suit that one would expect to see at a junior high prom and he had the sweaty complexion and skin to match. It was clear to anyone as he fiddled with his sleeves just how nervous he was.
Simon looks up and his eyes go wide. "You look…" he breathes breathlessly as his lips stammer all over the words he means to say.
"Alluring?" Mable teases the previous word from the air and draws ever closer while maintaining a proper buffer.
"Astonishing," he breathes again with an air of authority and a face that is bereft of anything but sheer emptiness of true admiration.
Mable feels her legs go weak and had she a solid wall she would have used it to brace against. As such, she is forced to find the inner strength that will allow her to catch herself before she falls to the dust.
"For, forgive me, I didn't mean to-" the besought paramour apologizes as he starts to pull away while nervously rubbing his hands.
Mable takes hold of them. "It's okay Simon," she speaks to him with her eyes looking deep into his. "It's alright." She sits herself down next to him.
From here the social engagement turns to that of the mundane and uninteresting, for the most part. It is a constant push and pull with neither side maintaining the advantage and soon, the exchange becomes more one on one as they retire to a nearby eatery where the man has offered to pay for a meal.
At this point, the social interaction becomes that of two friends who are almost completely at ease with one another. As though, they have known each other for far longer than just being introduced, and yet, still know so little that every nugget of information is a shining piece of unknown trivia that sparks interest in the other.
So enthralled are they by each other that they stop seeing one as a human body separate from the other and see the situation as a whole. Two children, playing in a garden, full of innocence and wonder, without a care for the rest of the world and how it decides to spin at this very moment.
They order a milkshake to share between the two of them, with two straws to drink from. In this way do they drink up the sweetness and stare into one another's eyes as they do so. Between the two of them there is a longing for the other, but not in the sense of carnal desire, though that is certain to come later, rather, to be in one another's as they did nothing.
Ain't love grand? But despite what the story books tell you, especially those of the fairy variety, love is in fact very boring to those who are not caught up in its power. For those in love will gladly stare into the other's eyes for hours on end and to those watching it would seem to be without excitement and only those who have been in love would be able to relate.
So, let us move forward to the end of the date in which a single token of love is given that of a deep, lasting kiss initiated by a shy boy and cemented by a just as shy girl, as they expressed for one another feelings they didn't even know they had. But this digression goes on too long so let us move along to the best bits, shall we.