Chapter 10

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Why do these things keep happening?

Why do I let them happen?

Why don't I just live my life, unruffled and unflustered by this crap?

Is unflustered even a word?

Why did I just say all that out loud, causing everyone in this little Cowan flower shop to stare at me like I've got two heads?

Yes, my dear imaginary audience, you have understood correctly.

This morning at around ten-thirty, I got a visit from my mother. The purpose of her visit was to pass on another note to me, on an eerily familiar pink, rose-patterned stationary. And, I suspect, to satisfy her curiosity.

Ariana. Basically, she was taking the afternoon off of work to do some shopping, and she wondered if I would like to accompany her, after a cup of coffee and a sandwich.

After smilingly refusing to satisfy the curiosity of my dear mother and feeding her a slice of the chocolate cake Marle left with me, I set about wondering how the hell Ariana knew I'd still be in Truce. After all, Lucy lives in Porre.

The note said to meet her at one in the afternoon if I could, and so here I am, leaning up against a tackily wood-veneer-covered wall, seething over my own nature as a complete sucker. This is really the last thing I want to be doing right now.

The first thing, by the way, is getting some work done.

Instead, I've agreed to meet my husband's lover for lunch and a day of shopping.

I hate shopping.

I must be insane.

At this point, I notice that there's someone with blonde hair, emitting a sweet, floral scent, hovering in front of me and trying shyly to get my attention.

   "Hi, Lucy," Ariana greets cheerfully once I've met her eyes, thus acknowledging her existence. She flashes me that same damn sweet, perfect smile from yesterday. Though her lip is still swollen, she can now use both sides of her face – tentatively.

   "Ariana," I note flatly. As hard as I try, I just can't muster enthusiasm right now. As her face falls a bit, I ask kindly, "How are you?"

Her smile returns in full force.

   "I'm okay," she replies, joy radiating from her that Lucy is happy to see her after all. "Today's been pretty slow, so my manager doesn't mind me taking the afternoon off."

   "Great. Should we get going?" I ask, eyes sliding to the various customers of the flower shop who have heard me spend the last five minutes talking to myself, who are still staring oddly at me.

I guess I can't blame them. I'd stare at me oddly, too.

If I had a mirror.

Hey, I know. Maybe I can pick one up while we're – whimper – shopping.

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Before we get anywhere near the six shops that compose Cowen's shopping district, Ariana steers me towards a little café.

Once we're seated, and have given the extremely apathetic young waiter our orders of coffee and sandwiches in my case, and iced tea and a salad (geez, what a splurge) in hers, she begins shooting me these shy, excited looks that make my groan inwardly in dismay, wondering what the heck she's glowing about.

Finally, she gathers up her courage sufficiently to blurt out,

   "I've left Stephen."

I stare at her blankly.

   "What?"

   "My husband. Stephen. I've left him."

I repeat my brilliant performance and keep staring at her blankly.

   "What?" I finally manage.

   "I've been thinking a lot about it lately. The main reason I was staying with him was because I was afraid to be alone, and then I met you yesterday and you were so kind, and when I met with Isaac last night, he was so supportive and kind. I realized that there are people in my life now who care about me. And I just can't keep living with a man who doesn't really care about me. I don't know how anyone could stand it."

Somehow, even though I should be used to it by now, I still have a hard time concealing my shock that Isaac has met with this woman for probably more purposes than friendly conversation.

   "So, you and Isaac…you're going to keep seeing him?"

   "Of course!" she says immediately and fervently.

Absurdly, the first and foremost thing on my mind right now is a smug sense of triumph that Magus was wrong about this. I guess the relationship guru, who probably hasn't had and actual relationship in several centuries, was wrong.

   "You're not…are you planning on moving in with him?" I ask casually, becoming suddenly very engrossed in my coffee.

   "Well…not right away," she admits, her eyes clouding a bit. "After all, there's still that awful wife of his."

   "So, he doesn't have good taste in women on top of being handsome, funny, artistic and faithful, huh?" I ask before I can stop myself. "I guess no one's perfect."

Ariana looks at me oddly, as though trying to decide whether to be hurt or not. Finally, she seems to decide that her joy is too great to mar.

   "She roped him into marriage before he had a chance to get away."

I choke slightly on my coffee.

   "Oh? And did he tell you that?"

   "He did. He also told me his marriage is as good as over. So it might not be long before I'm living with him," she adds, blushing prettily enough to almost stifle my urge to kill.

Wow. The things you find out through a third party, hmm?

Our marriage is over.

Okay. I guess I can deal with this, even though it seemed pretty alive to me last night when I got in just in time to meet Isaac in the entry-way – still in his jacket, as I don't recall until just now – and apparently horribly worried that his wife hadn't arrived home yet. When he told me how horribly worried he had been, I apologized like the lovesick little pushover I still am. He forgave me so graciously that I took hope that everything might be okay, and we scampered upstairs and…well, never mind. Let's just say I didn't bother reminding him about the possibility of a baby this time.

Yeah.

This is why the fact that our marriage is over comes as something of a revelation.

   "Well, I don't know what to say, Ariana," I tell her truthfully. "Congratulations, I guess."

   "Thank-you," she says, with a huge smile and another shy downward glance. "It's great to know that I have a friend who can be happy for me."

Holy crap, I'm beginning to think this girl has self-esteem issues! Here she sits, in seventh heavens of delight, because some strange woman she met yesterday has wished her well.

   "Sure," I say, shooting her a brief smile before rooting around in my purse, more for show than anything. "But seriously, Ariana, if this guy's talking about leaving his wife for you, what makes you think he won't do the same thing again? As for leaving his wife," I continue carelessly, glad that I have something to occupy my suddenly shaking hands, "I'll believe it when I see it."

   "He will," Ariana insists quietly, and I see a return of the stubbornness that I saw in her yesterday.

   "Well, I hope so, for your sake," I say, carefully concealing the part about hoping against hell that he won't for my sake. "So anyway, we're a couple of girls, you've just left your man, you know what we have to do."

Ariana blinks, looking utterly baffled.

   "What?"

   "Lambaste the hell out of all men everywhere!"

She giggles.

   "I don't know if we should do that."

   "Ariana, you obviously aren't in love with him anymore, and he treated you badly."

   "It was only the fourth time he ever hit me."

   "In how long?"

   "Nine years!"

I grit my teeth.

   "Well, that isn't the point. If he did it at all, there was the chance that it could start to happen more often."

   "I know," she admits with a sigh. "But in every other way, he was very good to me. He would always tell me how much he loved me, and he would always come to work on my breaks. Sometimes, he even came by just to watch me during my shift, even if he had to cancel an appointment. He hasn't done that for a while, since he's gotten so busy…"

   "An appointment?"

   "Yeah, he's a doctor."

A doctor. Hmm…didn't she have a terrible fear of doctors, or something?

   "Well, he obviously wasn't good to you if he hit you."

   "Oh, but he was!" she insists. "Like I said, he was always so attentive, and he bought me so many nice clothes."

   "If he was a doctor, that's hardly a sacrifice. And anyway, did he buy you that?" I ask, gesturing to the long grey skirt and black sweater she's wearing.

   "Well, yes," she admits. "I don't like it either, but Stephen didn't think it was appropriate to wear colours to work."

   "Maybe it was because he didn't think it was "appropriate" for anyone else to think you were pretty," I suggest.

   "Maybe," she agrees pensively.

   "Come on, Ariana. Start small, and for now just admit that he wasn't a very nice man."

   "He used to be," she says sadly. "When we first met, I was just finished school, and my mother had just gotten married again, to a man who owned a cruise line. My stepfather didn't like when Mom missed the trips, even to spend time with me, and of course, I couldn't go with them every time. I was so lonely, and Stephen was so understanding."

   "They always seem that way. And then you marry them," I lament, shaking my head.

   "Are you married, Lucy?" she asks tentatively.

   "Yeah, I am," I admit, making a face.

She nods, and delicately drops the subject.

I reach for my cup of coffee, which naturally brings my elbow into direct contact with my purse, perched precariously on the edge of the table.

   "Oh, no!" Ariana squeaks as everything I own and carry with me on a daily basis – along with several things I don't – spills out onto the floor of the café.

   "Oh, great," I grumble, starting to gather things up.

Ariana, of course, has to be sweet and kind and help me, just when I was beginning to get a good grudge going.

   "Are these your husband's?" she asks.

I look up at the object she's holding out.

Oh, for the love of Pete!

I knew I forgot to do something when I went to see Magus last night.

Namely, the "something" I went there to do in the first place.

I take the sunglasses from her and shove them back into my purse.

   "Yeah, they are," I reply quickly. "I steal them whenever he won't be using them. Anyway, should we—"

   "Here you are," a voice coming from behind me interrupts.

I turn slowly, heart already sinking. I recognize this voice, don't I?

As my gaze lights on Magus, I curse once again my horrible tendency to be right.

I turn around, closing my eyes briefly and summoning patience from divine sources. When I open them, Ariana is staring at me, clearly very curious, but hesitant to ask about the man standing behind my chair, smirking down at me.

I think quickly. I need a plausible-sounding lie. After all, I can't tell Ariana any more than I could tell Isaac that I routinely visit the man who attacked Guardia four hundred years ago for coffee, and make a habit of borrowing his sunglasses.

The sunglasses!

Without stopping to think and thus to let my brain talk me out of it, I turn around and smile sweetly at Magus, who looks nearly a little nervous at this sudden mood swing.

   "Yeah! Didn't you find my note? I left it on the pillow this morning. Ariana," I continue, turning away before Magus can regain his powers of motion and go for my throat, "this is my husband."

   "Oh!" She brightens considerably as she stands up and holds out a hand. "It's nice to meet you…um, what was your name?"

   "Yes, dear, why don't you tell your friend your husband's name?" Magus suggests mildly, shaking Ariana's hand briefly.

   "Phil," I blurt out immediately.

   "It's really great to meet you, Phil," Ariana tells a furious Magus with an unconscious sweetness completely free of the malice that usually fills mine, that makes him even more furious. "Why don't you join us for coffee?"

   "No, no, I have somewhere important to be," 'Phil' replies, stressing the word important.

I roll my eyes impatiently. Ariana, observing from across the table, grins understandingly.

   "Well, then, get outta here before Ariana starts wondering if I turned you into a rude creep by nagging you all the time or something," I say, exasperated, but not exasperated enough to forget to glance over my shoulder quickly to see if Ariana has reacted to my choice of words.

He protests as I shove him towards the door.

   "Can I have my sunglasses back?" he huffs. "Unless you're still using them."

   "Take the damn glasses," I growl, shoving the unoffending object at him.

He snatches them away, turns to leave, and then turns back for a brief moment.

   "I'll see you later."

Before I have a chance to ask when the hell he expects that to happen, he's gone. I stand in the doorway of the café for a moment, staring foolishly after him. Then I recall that I was in the middle of doing something important.

After all, what could be more important than meeting your husband's mistress for a nice afternoon?

   "He seems nice," Ariana says brightly as I sit down.

I stare at her incredulously.

   "You're joking, right?"

   "No," she says, confused.

   "Then you're trying to be polite."

Ariana takes my hand sympathetically.

   "You two are having problems right now, aren't you?" she asks, considerately lowering her voice so that the entire café doesn't become aware of this.

   "What would make you say that?" I ask, once again using my coffee mug as a shield.

   "Well, you seemed uncomfortable around him."

O-kay! Add this to the list of things to remember: Ariana seems dense, like Marle, but she's incredibly perceptive about things like this. Like Marle.

Basically, I have found a slightly quieter Marle.

Great.

   "And you've been staying with your parents here in Truce, haven't you?" she continues.

What's she looking so knowing about?

    "Yeah," I admit slowly, deciding in an instant that if she's handing me this lie, I'm not going to refuse it.

   "Still, I think you and Phil will be just fine, Lucy," she says with the same slightly condescending 'aw-that's-so-cute-she's-in-love' smile that I've worn so many times in the last two days. "He took the first step by coming to find you. And you're clearly very much in love."

Okay­, I reflect, choking slightly around a mouthful of coffee, maybe she isn't so perceptive after all.

    "Thanks, Ariana," I say with an intentionally wobbly smile. "I'm glad you think we'll be okay."

   "Any time you want to talk about it, you know I'll listen," she says, giving my hand another squeeze.

I smile as gratefully as I can, and we sit in silence for a moment, sharing what would appear to anyone looking in, and possibly to Ariana, a moment of perfect woman-to-woman fellowship.

I personally am inwardly glaring daggers at her, trying my damnedest to hate her.

Finally, she jumps briskly to her feet.

   "Come on, Lucy!" she chirps. "We have shopping to do!"

As soon as she mentions shopping, I come the closest to hating her I have since meeting her.

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   "Oh, isn't this adorable?" Ariana exclaims in delight an hour later, holding up a tiny yellow and blue plaid jumper-dress with a matching headband, booties, and drawers.

   "I think it's a bit small for you," I tell her kindly, eyeing the cartoonish bunny bouncing across the front of the dress.

My new friend giggles. I do not, and barely manage to suppress a groan of deepest boredom.

If I ever thought normal clothes-shopping was boring, I did not know the meaning of the word. Sadly, I am wiser now, and I realize that nothing in the universe is more mind-numbing than spending an hour browsing the infant section when you have no children, with a friend who is also childless.

   "You're so silly, Lucy. I don't mean for me! I just think it's so cute!"

   "That's because you've been programmed by an oppressive society to think that it's a woman's sole duty to bring children into an already overpopulated world," I shoot back immediately.

   "So, you and Phil aren't planning to have any?"

   "No," I reply emphatically, the thought of a little Magus/me hybrid running around and terrorizing the world chilling me to the bone.

   "I'd love to have children someday," she confides, seemingly without noticing that I haven't asked.

   "Heh. And how does Isaac feel about this?"

   "Oh, I haven't talked about it to him!" she exclaims, blushing brightly.

   "Probably a good idea. Most men have an immediate panic reaction to fuzzy pink baby blankets and talcum powder."

   "I don't think Isaac would," she pouts. "He's got such a gentle, nurturing nature."

I wonder, not for the first time, if we are thinking of the same man. Of course, I suppose this is a little unfair. Isaac can be nurturing. If he has a really good reason.

But God help this little tramp if she gets pregnant with his child in order to test his nurturing nature.

For that matter, God help me if she does.

After all, brutally murdering both of them would almost certainly land me in prison, and it should be pretty obvious why I don't want that to happen.

I've been to prison.

Or at least, I've been in a prison, even if it wasn't as an inmate.

They don't let you keep your collection of power tools, and they don't care if the other prisoners are being too noisy for you to concentrate on reading your book.

As for killing all the prisoners to get some peace and quiet…well, let's not get carried away here. I'm calm. I'm rational. I'm not some violent psycho.

And if anyone out there laughs at that, I'll kill you.

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A/N: Nothing important to say this time. I just think author's notes make the chapter look more finished than just leaving it. Anyway, thanks very much to everyone who read. And thanks even more to everyone who reviews. Here's a question: is this whole "Lucca telling Ariana that Magus is her husband Phil" thing absurd enough to be jarring when set alongside the rest of the story?