Edie couldn't quite understand how someone could become so cold. Sure, maybe she personally did warm up to people a lot quicker than most women would. But, this lady was a bit too cold. She was almost afraid to brush shoulders with her on the streets, imagining herself comically turning to ice and tumbling to the ground. Felicia would pass by with a grin, the demise of yet another one of her victims not phasing her.
Talk about an 'Ice Queen'.
"Felicia?" She pounded on the door, her tone worried. She had been standing there knocking for a solid ten minutes with still no answer. Edie just knew she was home. Or at least figured. Where would the old witch even go when she went out of the house? It seemed like as good of a question as any.
The door was pulled open at once. Right from the get-go, it was obvious Felicia had been nothing short of a blubbering mess moments before. She wiped at her dark, smudged eyeliner with all the dignity in the world, pursing her lips at the sight of the blonde.
"Oh, honey.. are you alright? You look like you've been crying." Edie felt an aching inside of her own heart; Martha. That had to have been the reason. And she wouldn't judge. She had been doing her fair share of crying over the whole ordeal herself, and- even if it meant getting metaphorically or literally frozen to death- she would comfort Felicia. After all, wasn't that what she was there for?
Well, no. Actually, she had originally came to complain that Martha's garden was going to hell, and to demand that Felicia takes care of it. The once lively hydrangeas were wilting, and the grass was now a dull, dead green. Dead just like her best friend. The thought alone made Edie's breath hitch in a way that signalled tears were soon to follow.
Felicia raised her thin eyebrows. "I'm fine."
Seriously? No, 'are you okay?' or 'don't cry' 's? Not even a light, 'she's in a better place now'? Edie wondered many things about Felicia. And another one she could think of just off the top of her head was, 'what the hell was wrong with her?'
She was weird in more ways than one. Her carelessness for others. The way she could tell even the worst of news, all while grinning. That, and she kind of dressed like she was on the way to the Fortune Teller's. Also- she was a nurse? Edie didn't like to think about that. She had this twisted image of Felicia smearing blood off from her hands onto her white apron, after preforming a messy operation, or something like that.
"You.. Y-you just seem so sad, Felicia." Okay- that wasn't exactly true. But it could work. "I want to help you. Us mourning- we should- we need to stick together. For Martha."
"Edie-" Felicia rested a hand on her shoulder, looking her in the eyes. Those viewing this encounter would have thought it was a heartfelt conversation. When, it was really.. : "I'm not mourning." The biggest, most creepiest smile crossed her lips at once, which were darkened with an almost black shade of lipstick. "If anything, I'm glad."
Edie's eyes narrowed as she grew even more- if possible- skeptic of Felicia's true intentions. She meant well, she told herself. Didn't she? "You know.. I'm kind of surprised you're not a suspect." she admitted bluntly.
There was a twinkle in her eye that couldn't be missed. "For Martha's strangling?"
"Yes, for.. 'Martha's strangling'. Ah- Can we not call it that? I'm having a bit of a hard time..."
"Okay, then." As if she felt she was actually helping, she corrected herself, "Martha's horrid, violent death, then- which I didn't do."
"You probably have good intentions- or intentions at all. But, I don't know how you expect me to believe you're truly innocent."
Felicia nodded, taking in the inference laid before her. How cute, thought Felicia. She thinks I have something to do with my own sister's murder. "Why, isn't it obvious? The police said Martha was still alive at the time of burial."
Edie crossed her arms, smug. "Yeah, so?"
"If I would have murdered Martha- she would have been dead long before I lugged her body out into the woods and buried her." Her wicked grin returned, and she met Edie's visible fear with a swift wink. "Now- would you like some fresh baked cookies?"
Her jaw was dropped. She struggled to find her voice. "I- I.. I should really be getting home." to avoid getting murdered, Edie mentally added.
Felicia appeared disappointed. It was no secret that she was a lonely woman. And now, Edie was too. And she needed a new friend- a new female friend.
Figuring Felicia would serve her well in that position for now, she finished with, "But, I'd love to stop by later after I get done running my errands."
Edie turned on her heel to leave. But, something inside of her made her stop. Felicia had never explained why her makeup was a mess, or why exactly she had been crying. In a right state of mind, Edie would have never done this. Just as Felicia was about to close the door, she turned and hugged her.
It was a rather forced, unexpected advance that Felicia Tilman had never taken lightly- from anybody. She wasn't much for physical contact, especially not from the neighborhood whore, and especially not nowadays.
But, she didn't care. She continued on embracing her and- even though the gesture was not returned at the slightest- couldn't help but to feel she had done and was doing what she could to help.
Felicia's eye twitched ever so slightly. "If you don't get off from me, there will be another horrid, violent death."
This made Edie jump back at once, startled. "Sorry."
"That's alright. You mean well." There was a long drag of silence. "Please get off from my front porch."
"When do you want me to come over later?"
"You're not coming over now, dear." she explained gently.
"Oh. Okay. Do you want me to stop by tomorrow?"
The embrace had effected her more than Edie had thought. Just before she closed the door, she muttered, "Not a chance." With that, the door was slammed in Edie's face.
There was a moment- a moment where Edie would question the true intentions of Felicia Tilman once again. She assumed that these moments would be frequent, and not that far apart. She had to laugh to herself as she jogged home. She was something else, she reasoned. But she was the closest thing to Martha she had left, and you better be damned sure that she was going to hold onto that last little piece of the only real friend she had ever had.