"Oh, please, Cynthia, just one quick tipple at the pub, and I promise you'll feel right as rain–"
"Trixie, she's had a long day, there's no need for her to come if she doesn't want to."
"Don't be stupid, Jenny, of course she must come out! Here, you can borrow my scarf," said Trixie, finished with her makeup and now holding up all manner of clothing to see what might suit her friend. She threw it to Cynthia, who was sitting quietly on the bed, still in uniform. "It'll go wonderfully with that green dress of yours."
"I'm too tired, Trixie," Cynthia sighed. "Look, can't I just join you another time? There's always a dance on."
Trixie struggled with herself for a moment, pursing her lips. "Alright, I wanted it to be a surprise, but if you won't come any other way I suppose I'll have to say: I've got you a date for tonight, so now you really must come or he'll be awfully disappointed."
"Trixie!" Cynthia's face went bright red, from anger or embarrassment, neither were sure exactly which.
"What? He's ever such a sweet man, just perfect for Cynthia."
"Oh, Trixie, you didn't," scolded Jenny.
"Of course I did! She's been going on about the church, and I just thought if–"
"But she doesn't want–"
"I'm right here!" the small voice bellowed, and Cynthia's friends were shamed into silence. "And if you've already made the promise, then I won't be rude, but it was not your promise to make, Trixie, and Jenny, thank you, but I'm perfectly capable of speaking for myself."
So Cynthia gamely put on the green dress and danced the proper number of dances with a perfectly nice man named David, with whom she had a pleasant conversation but made it clear she had no intention of seeing again.
Outside the dance hall, Trixie approached as Cynthia bid him goodbye.
"…so I do apologize if there were any misunderstandings," Cynthia said gently.
"Not at all, it was lovely to meet you," he shook her hand with a smile. "And I'm sorry you felt pressured into coming tonight."
"Oh, I had a nice time," she said. "I just feel… I need someone to hear me sometimes. That's all." She looked lost in thought for a moment, her sweet face fixed inward. "Anyway, I'll go back in and find my friends. Take care, David."
As he bounded away up the steps, Trixie stood in shadow, watching her friend not watch him go. Her stomach churned from the Advocaat and something bitter.
"Cynthia–" Trixie touched her arm, startling her from her reverie.
"I don't want a boyfriend, and it's not because I'm scared of men, or hate them, or worry they won't like me," she said, slow and firm, her gaze still somewhere in the middle distance. For once, Trixie was silent.
"I want to continue my work for as long as I can. I want to give my life to something bigger than myself," Cynthia said, finally turning to her friend, face hopeful. "I have so much to learn."
"And if I didn't respect that, I wouldn't deserve your friendship," replied Trixie tearfully, reaching for a hug.
"I don't fully know my own mind, yet," Cynthia said quietly, rubbing Trixie's back in comfort. "But if you could just… listen, sometimes. That might help."
Trixie nodded. "Friends?"
"Always," smiled Cynthia, taking her arm. "Now, one last dance?"