Mr. Swan, Diane’s long-time client and the connoisseur of her stylish, put passé sense of self. Their chats were always about Mr. Swan and if they began about something else they soon turned to Mr. Swan, his problems, idiosyncrasies, and what Diane should do about them. Diane was a person Veronica cared about; they shared a history and for a brief moment Veronica wondered if Diane, or someone, cared about her?
“Hi there!”
“Oh, Veronica,” whined Diane expectantly as if she had done something very naughty but very nice.
“What is it now?” said Veronica more impatiently than Diane deserved, as she sat down and hung her bag over the back of her seat.
“Oh, is it that obvious?”
“You look as if that demon cat of yours has finally died.”
“Oh, I wish it would! It’s turned completely psychotic. Lies in wait for me as I exit the bathroom and pounces on my ankles with its teeth. I’m living with a terrorist! But, no, it’s not dead and if my face gave you that impression it’s only wishful thinking. No, it’s more about what’s going to happen.”
“So what’s Mr. Swan done now?” asked Veronica with a smile that was a little more cynical than she planned. Diane has that affect on her.
“Don’t be so judgemental, Veronica. It’s not what he’s done; it’s what he wants to do.”
“Which is?” asked Veronica after it was clear that Diane wanted her reply to have its greatest affect and wanted an appropriate prompt.
“He wants to make an honest woman of me.”
Veronica didn’t quite know how to hold her face. Diane wore a little naughty smile; an ‘aren’t I lucky’ smile but her words seemed misplaced. Diane had obviously rehearsed this line and decided to use it even if it was a little inappropriate, or was it?
“He wants to marry you?” Veronica asked hoping she had got it wrong.
“Don’t be silly, Veronica. He already has a wife and he certainly doesn’t want, can’t, have, two.”
“I was merely reacting to your ‘cats-got-the-cream’ little smirk on your face.”
“That was a look of contented surprise. He doesn’t want me to work anymore. He wants me all to himself.”
“Oh, I see. He only wants you to work for him.”
“What a cynic,” and her cheeky smile disappeared. “You don’t understand,” she said like a small child whose wishes have been refused.
“I understand entirely. He’s going to put you up in a little flat, at a convenient distance, and at a price and decor of his choosing, and he’s going to be your only client.”
“I was happy about this until you came along.”
“Diane. Listen. Do this, if you want, by all means, but for god’s sake see it for what it is and not for what it isn’t.”
Diane, with bowed head, played with the clasp on her watch. “I’m only thinking of the future.” And with a piercing look and a little venom in her voice asked, “Don’t you ever think of the future?”
I think of the fucking future all the time . “Sometimes. Of course.”
“Like what? Tell me! Like what, Veronica? What do you want?” Diane’s voice was challenging, sharp; her gaze interrogative, accusative, and new.
“I want a skinny latte and a vanilla slice,” said Veronica to the hovering waiter, but aware that her tone was meant for Diane and so softened it with a smile and a “please”.
“Certainly,” said the water. “And what would you like?” he said turning to Diane.
“I’ll have the same, except.. no no.. just, just the skinny latte. Thank you.”
“Fine. Two skinny lattes and only one vanilla slice.” He paused as if expected a change of mind, but none came. “Won’t be long.” And he was gone.
For a moment the two women held each other’s gaze. This was one of those moments when Veronica thought about gazing into her own eyes, into her own reflection, in her own mirror; into her own life. She was the first to look away.
Diane lent across the table at her, her face and voice now soft and calm. “Veronica, I am going to do this because I want to do this. He’s a nice man and he’s nice, very nice, to me and I believe him, well, not everything, he is a man after all, but I believe most of what he says to me and, especially, how he feels about me. And before you interrupt me, I’m fully aware that changed conditions may lead to changes in all of what I’ve just said. When change happens who knows what happens next. I’ve got the balls to do this, they’re just not crystal ones.” Diane reclined back in her chair and smirked at Veronica. “Mr. Swan said that. And a man swearing on a bible is one thing, but swearing on his balls is something entirely different. What’s a girl to think?”
Veronica didn’t know what to say. Another one of Diane’s rehearsed lines courtesy of Mr. Swan. She just mirrored Diane’s smirk.
Diane lent forward again. “But you know what, Veronica? The best part is that I’ve made a decision about my future and no matter what you may think about that decision, it’s a decision. About my future.” And then her tone dropped even lower. “So when are you going to make a decision about your future?”
“Here we are,” said the waiter chirpily, “Who’s having the vanilla slice?” he added looking at Diane, who stuck the point of her tongue out at him.
“Well!” he chided archly, “how couth! So a skinny latte and a vanilla slice for you!” as he deposited the items before Veronica, “and a skinny latte and ... a fork! for you,” he said as he placed Diane’s coffee, and the fork, in front of her. “You need some weight on, girl. Enjoy!” he called as he flounced off.
Veronica had thought she was going to give Diane a few pieces of advice about Mr. Swan, hopefully to challenge her about her situation and how more realistic she needed to be; but there was Diane challenging her about her own lack of reality. She had felt so sure about things earlier. Where was that feeling now? That feeling that everything was right with the world; she was on top of it, mastering it, calling the shots. But now she was forced to gaze purposefully at her own reflection: to hold her own gaze and to look at, really look at, herself. And the picture she saw was Jack but with no man in it.
As she stirred her skinny latte she couldn’t help the words that came out of her mouth but she tried very hard to soften their tone, make them friendlier, truer. “I like what I do. I like my present. I provide a service, a worthwhile one. You know that. And, yes, I think about the future, more than you think, but I don’t want to replace the present with something else. I want to incorporate the future into what I’ve got now. I don’t know quite how to do that yet, but I am working on it.”Am I?
“I know, Veronica, I wasn’t trying to lecture you.”Oh yeah? “But I’ve only got to think about me.”O Oh! Here it comes! “How old is Jack now?”
When away from her she saw Diane as her best friend, when with her she was more like an opinionated mother. She was well-aware the potential for Diane to morph into her mother with nothing to do all day except wonder about the next. Although in Diane’s case she would be waiting for Mr. Swan to call. Her mother needed someone, and a man would do, but her mother had always been alone, even with all the men around, as far back as Veronica could remember. She had always been proud of her mother’s independence. But now her mother’s independence was more like loneliness and Veronica felt guilty about that. Maybe she should buy her a cat. Maybe she should relieve Diane of her killer cat and adopt her onto her mother. The cat obviously hates Diane. Hmm!
Why does Diane always make her think about these things? Is the lack of a man the real problem? Her job brought her into contact with the problematic and seamier side of the male animal and