Chapter 4
The world was cruel. Light shone too brightly. The birds outside were too loud. Somewhere a ball bounced against a sidewalk and Elmira wanted to savagely poke a million holes in it until it never thwacked against the ground again.
"I'm going to die," she announced.
Sven was beside her, laying very still and staring at the ceiling. He looked like he was fighting a losing battle. Elmira sympathized, or at least her rolling stomach did. Last night she’d been too hammered to get home, so Sven invited her to spend the night. More like morning because by the time they got to bed it was 4a.m. She’d sent a quick text to Sascha telling her where she was but she was pretty sure she’d be back before her friend had a chance to read it. If anyone had been more shitfaced than Elmira last night, it was Sascha.
"Oh." Sven bolted up and then he was gone, into the en suite bathroom. Elmira's eternally grateful that he shut the door so she didn’t have to hear.
The sound of the shower started. Elmira managed to roll over in bed and pull the duvet over her head. Everything ached and hurt and throbbed. She couldn’t remember the exact chain of events that led her here, but her thighs felt like massive bruises attached to her hips and from where she squinted one eye open she could see her belongings and clothes scattered on the floor.
She really, genuinely hoped that last night hadn’t been the hotbed of debauchery she couldn’t really recall but whose evidence she couldn’t ignore. Her pussy clenched at the idea and she was reassured that nothing had been in her, at least.
Sven came back a few minutes later. He was naked and wet and smelled like mint toothpaste and body wash.
"I made a mess," he said. "But I cleaned it up. And now I feel approximately one hundred and ten times better. Which still means I feel like crap. And I'm pretty sure I'm still a little drunk."
Elmira just grunted. She'd love it if Sven stopped talking. Not forever, just for the next twelve hours or so. Just until Elmira felt human again.
"I'm going to go make some food," Sven said. He walked out of the room then came back. "Wait, maybe tablets. Do you need tablets?"
Elmira groaned into her pillow. Her body gave every indication that if she tried to put anything into it, everything from the night before would come back out with a forcible ejection.
Sven apparently failed at translating Elmira's non-verbal cues, because he came back a few minutes later with a glass of tepid water and two tablets.
"Come on," Sven said. "I'm gonna take care of you. Because I'm a good friend."
Considering how much alcohol Sven must have let her drink – not that he was the boss of her or anything – she was tempted to argue that point. Of course he was the boss of her but that was professionally and not personally. Yes, clearly some lines had blurred but still…she had no idea what she was talking about; her head was hurting too much. She wanted to ask him about the intimacy also, but she didn’t know if she was ready for the answer. Hey maybe he didn’t remember either.
But arguing would involve speaking and it took everything in her just to sit up for twenty seconds and get the pill down. She had to clench her hands into the bed sheets and wait for the room to stop spinning before she felt safe in letting go. When she was sure the tablets were going to stay put, she slumped back down like a dummy with the strings cut.
Consciousness was already fading back out as she felt Sven tuck the grossly sweaty sheets back around her with endearingly clumsy patting gestures.
*****
It was after noon when Elmira woke up.
Sven was poking her in the shoulder.
Poke. Poke.
Pause.
Poke.
"Elmira?" Sven asked. "Are you dead?"
Elmira groaned.
"Look, you've been asleep for about twelve hours; I am beginning to get slightly worried."
That Sven sounding worried was what got Elmira’s eyes open.
"I'm fine."
She was not fine. She was not fine at all. She felt clammy and sick and her head hurt.
"I made breakfast," Sven said. "But then you wouldn't wake up so I ate it."
"I hate you," Elmira rasped. Food sounded slightly appealing, more so when it's only a temptation dangled in front of her then snatched away.
Sven saved it with, "But then I made lunch! Come eat, you'll feel better."
"I don't believe you," Elmira said, petulance in her voice. She couldn’t tell queasy from starving “I bet you don’t even cook.”
Sven reached out and pushed Elmira's hair back from her forehead. The touch felt nice, cool fingers on her skin. It made her almost not mad at Sven for recovering so quickly.
"Come on," he gently urged. "For me?"
Elmira sighed. She closed her eyes and ignored Sven for just long enough to realize she probably couldn’t go back to sleep with the way her stomach was.
*****
Food didn’t help much.
A shower didn’t help much.
More tablets didn't help much.
But they all each helped a little bit, leaving her feeling about three stages below human when she curled up onto the sofa an hour later. She opened her laptop just long enough to check on the time for Adrienne’s live show because there was no ways she was going to physically make it; and then she was defiantly in Sven's crease. Sven allowed it without saying anything. He understood that Elmira was mad at him and accepted his fate with dignity.
Sven's hangover was gone, of course. Sven was perfectly fine and chipper.
"It's because I let it all out," he told Elmira. "Expel the toxins and all that jazz."
Elmira pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in his arms. She was wearing a sick hoodie, a green one, and Sven's pajama pants. She felt wretched.
"I think I'm past that," she said. "Don't think it would do any good.”
Sven reached out and tugged her over, letting Elmira cozy up to him and rubbing wide circles against Elmira's back. His actions and his tone were so sweet that Elmira almost didn’t punch him when he said, "Hangovers just get harder as you age."
Sven choked on a laugh at the solid hit of Elmira's knuckles to his side and added, "It's true! I'm sorry! You can't argue with biology!"
Then, because Sven was heartless under his exterior of friendly adoration, he pulled up article after article and spent the next thirty minutes educating Elmira on the process of acetaldehyde and acetate absorption with a slower metabolic rate. He only shut up when Elmira tried to get up and leave.
*****
Elmira found the link to the Adrienne’s show and clicked on it. The internet speeds at Sven’s were off the charts and the soft leather couch she was sitting on was so comfortable it was all she could do not to fall asleep. Who lived like this and how could she get in on that action? She ran her hand up and down the seat, enjoying the feel of soft, expensive comfort beneath her fingers.
“Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?” Sven stuck his head in the door to ask startling her.
“No, I’m fine thanks. The show’s about to start.”
“Okay then. I’ll leave you to it.” Sven said disappearing again.
Elmira sighed, signed on to the website and sat back to watch. She had texted Sascha to see if she was coherent enough to attend the show in person and found to her surprise that she was already there. The socialite she’d been flirting with had called, apologetic about disappearing and wanting another go at Sascha. So they were both at the show. Elmira had extracted a promise from her friend that she’d taken some quality shots of the runway and the crowd. So all Elmira had to scare up was the copy to accompany it. Adrienne’s show wasn’t holding her interest today though. She was still very tired but she sat up as straight as she could and watched.
“After this I am soo going back to bed,” she murmured to herself.
*****
"Oh my god." Elmira stood in the doorway of the bedroom. She hadn't really been of mind to give it a proper look before. There were things laying everywhere that would make her mother blush, including a bottle of massage oil still open with half its contents squirted out onto the shirt on Sven's floor that it happened to land on.
"Sven, what did we do?"
Sven snickered. "You don't remember?"
"I remember parts. But they don't make much sense."
"What we actually did doesn't make much sense, either." Sven walked past her and started to tidy up.
"You wanted to use some clit sensitizer but I was afraid you were so drunk that you'd regret it in the morning if we had full penetrative sex so I suggested the Spank Me Paddle instead, and then you tried to tie me up because you thought it would, and I quote, 'make you look like a pretty pretty present, Sven!' but we couldn't quite manage the coordination for that. So then I think I sucked you while you were lying wrong-end-up on the bed - really glad I got that painting mounted, by the way, that would have been down for sure - until you decided you wanted to try something you saw in a porn - which you swore you'd give me the link - and ended up giving yourself a thigh cramp. Then we just, you know, fell asleep like normal because in the end we can't escape our true boring vanilla natures."
Elmira had her hands cover her face. She stayed like that, still and slightly mortified, until Sven pried them down.
"It was good, Elmira. It was fun." Sven was smiling so gently with his dimples deep and his eyes so kind. Elmira hadn’t known he had dimples! Now how was she supposed to resist him?
Elmira just wasn’t usually the aggressor in relationships, to bring new things up.
And to know they tried some things Elmira had been wanting to do and they went so horribly....
Yeah. Mortification. Just what she needed on top of the hangover.
Sven wrapped his arms around her, like he knew just what's going through Elmira's mind.
"I like you. Go lay down on the couch and watch some immensely boring style show while I put the sheets in the wash and clean up in here some."
"I'll help-" Elmira said, though it's the last thing she felt like doing.
"Nope." Sven gave her a little shove. "I don’t think you’re used to drinking so much even though you just graduated college. Go recover."
It was a flimsy excuse but Elmira allowed herself to be pushed out of the room.
*****
Elmira napped for another couple of hours. When she woke up, she could hear the sound of Sven hoovering and the smell of dinner.
Her stomach growled properly this time. Her headache was down to a faint throb at her temples.
"Hey, sleeping beauty." Sven stood in the doorway, watching her with a smile. "Want me to draw you a bath?"
"Why are you being so nice to me?" Elmira asked.
"Because I was taught to show kindness to the infirm," Sven said. He didn’t even have to move away to duck the pillow Elmira threw at her, since it fell short, way short of the mark.
"Because I hate seeing you miserable and I feel bad that I'm the one who let you lose on the open bar on your first night out as an adult."
"You-" Elmira's jaw dropped open, because she hadn't remembered that until Sven said it but suddenly the memories were rushing back. Elmira was not even sure she had made it to double digits, but so many in the span of an hour did her in.
"I hate you."
"Would you hate me less if I let you use the last of my favorite bath bombs?"
"... Maybe," Elmira said.
*****
The bath was wonderful. Sven made the water the perfect temperature, lit a few candles, put on some music at a low volume, and then got the fuck out to leave Elmira to enjoy it all in peace.
She still felt a little bit lousy but she had accepted that it was a fate that she probably wouldn't shake without another solid night of sleep. She put the same comfy clothes back on and went to find Sven in the kitchen. She walked up behind him and put her arms around Sven's middle, her cheek against Sven's back.
"I don't hate you."
It's a 'thank you' and an 'I like you too' and a 'I really appreciate you not making this weird' all wrapped up in one.
Sven reached down and covered Elmira's arms with one of his own, like he was trying to press the hug in closer.
"I'm glad. I'd be sad if you hated me."
Elmira smiled and kissed the nape of Sven's neck, where the hair was short and tickled her nose then she pulled away.
"Hey," Sven said. "Where you going?"
"To play Fallout 4," Elmira said. "While you make my dinner. Because - you let me lose on the bar."
The argument immediately died on Sven's tongue and he sighed.
"Emotional manipulation isn't nice, Elmira."
"Open bar!" Elmira shouted back, settling into the best couch spot and turning the game on. She could definitely milk this for the rest of the day, at least.
*****
Sven insisted they go for the Adrienne after party, maybe wrangle some interviews there. Elmira wasn’t ready to socialize but this was her job and she understood that she couldn’t just blow it off.
“I promise we’ll just go, talk to some people, then come back here and you can sleep all night.”
Elmira snorted, “Or, I could go to my hotel and sleep.”
“Now why would you wanna go and do that huh?” Sven almost sounded offended and Elmira laughed.
“Oh I don’t know. Maybe because I don’t actually live here?”
“I thought you liked it here!”
“I do!”
“So?!?”
“Okay let’s do this right? Let’s go to this after party and then after, we’ll figure out where everyone’s gonna sleep huh?”
“Fine.”
Elmira could not believe that Sven was actually sulking. She sighed inwardly, and walked past him toward the car. He would just have to get over it because she wasn’t about to start coddling him. Begin as you mean to go on right?
Wait.
What?
Go on with what?
Elmira was too hung over for this shit.
*****
Elmira couldn’t remember the last time she had felt underdressed. Probably, she decided, as she took in the black marble room full of pea-cocking members of the fashion industry, because she had repressed that memory.
She had worn a suit. In fact, Elmira had changed out of the pajama and hoodie combo she’d been in all day into something more “formal”, in accordance with the invitation; a dark blue one-button jacket, a matching vest, flat-front slacks, and a black tie…all of which actually belonged to Sven since she had no – clean - clothes at his house. The jacket was a bit small for her around the bust and the vest left nothing to the imagination. It had looked very chic and edgy when she’d put it on, and Sven’s whistle had put the last stamp of approval on it. But maybe it was inappropriate for this occasion?
The term ‘formal event’ was both an understatement and a misnomer.
“Wear all of your money” would have been a better direction. The people appeared to be wearing everything bright, shiny, and patterned that had ever graced the cover of a magazine or walked the runway-everything except a plain suit.
She felt like people were staring.
Which usually didn’t bother her, but she could see what they were thinking.
She looked . . . improper.
Out of place.
Incongruous.
Inadequate.
Unrefined.
Poor, even.
Elmira was no stranger to the arts, but she tended towards the refined, the unobtrusive. Especially since her voluptuousness was enough of a stand out as it was. Flamboyant too often coincided with obnoxious, and a desire to stand out with an inflated ego. However, it had ironically not occurred to her that at a fashion week party, big egos are implied, and a plain outfit would stand out more than a monkey in a dress, as evidenced by the Simian who was stealing sips from atop the shoulder of a toned gentlemen with a glass of champagne across the room.
She smiled at the people staring and took a large sip of wine.
“Elmira, dear.”
She turned, relieved to finally encounter an acquaintance. They had attended the same campus but Florica had graduated earlier.
“Florica. Ah, so good to . . . see you.”
She thought she did a good job of hiding the distress.
She was wearing a tree.
The-robe? Dress? Structure?-had a long transparent train with brown lengths of fabric trailing down from the waist, giving the impression of roots. The sleeves were brown with droopy green leaves dangling from the sides and tufts of silk cherry blossoms near the hands. The bust was made of leaves and had stiff brown fabric-”branches”-jutting out at random angles, housing more leaves and flowers. Her hat was an enormous cherry blossom.
It was not even the most awful outfit she had seen so far, and this made her sad.
“Do you like it? The sculptor, this wonderful Italian man that I know, offered to let me borrow it for the night.”
“Was his goal to make you look like a plant?”
She beamed.
“Oh, yes!”
“Well then, Florica, he achieved his objective completely.”
She laughed and touched her arm playfully.
“Oh, Elmira. I know this is not your usual scene, but it’s nice to see you anyway. I know how absolutely dreadful it is to go to an event like this alone.”
Elmira opened her mouth to say she wasn’t alone but then closed it again. She hadn’t seen Sven in a minute anyway so technically…
“Yes, I can definitely imagine so. You know the designer?”
“Yes, have you met her? I haven’t talked to her yet, let me introduce you.” As she spoke, Florica turned and looked around the room.
“Thank you, but I am sure she is very busy,” Elmira said quickly. “I would not want to intrude.”
“This is her party. And she designed all this.” She waved vaguely around the room, softly as not to upset the leaves. “Don’t you want to meet her?”
Of course Elmira wanted to meet her. But of all people, Elmira knew the value of first impressions and of keeping up appearances. The host’s first impression of Elmira would be “that woman who doesn’t know how to dress.” Being under-dressed was borderline impolite, something that Elmira was used to seeing in others but unable to apply to herself.
Florica, with arms carefully held away from her torso in order to spare the branches, lead her past a life-size bronze elephant, through a maze of carnival freaks-fashion patrons, she corrected herself-to a table near the back of the room. One of the women seated at the table went to greet them.
She was wearing a coat that had probably been an entire animal at some point in its sad life, and bright orange pants.
“Florica Adams, my friend!” she said cheerfully, placing her hand on her back.
“Always a welcome face at my little shows.”
“And as always, you’ve outdone yourself. This is beautiful,” Florica said. Adrienne dipped her head in thanks.
“Ah, but how could you!” she said, gesturing. “My darling, you are dressed so beautifully. How could models of mine possibly compare? You will put me out of a job, yes?”
“Oh, Adrienne,” she laughed. “You’re always so charming. Allow me to introduce an old friend, Elmira Olivette.” They both turned to look at Elmira. Adrienne’s eyes dipped down, and if Elmira had been anyone else she would have become conscious of her posture. She knew when she was being judged. She silently drank her wine. It tasted thicker than normal.
"Elmira, Adrienne Domitille."
Elmira smiled and held out her hand.
"Ms. Domitille-"
"Please, Adrienne," she said, with a strong but brief handshake.
"Adrienne, a pleasure."
This woman was one impolite statement away from evisceration on her blog. Ain’t nobody had the time.
"You must excuse me, girls. I have to greet the other guests. I'll see you two later." Florica hustled off into the crowd.
"Adrienne," said Elmira, once Florica had left. "I apologize for being under-dressed. I think I stand out among all of your well-dressed colleagues."
"Ah, nonsense! A suit such as this never goes out of style. Wide lapels, wide tie knot-very powerful. It says, ‘I am not afraid of you. I am not afraid to show aggression, to show passion.’ All women can wear a suit, but only you have." Elmira sensed no condescension in her voice. In fact-
Oh god.
"I appreciate the validation. Events of this type are not my forte, but they are certainly yours."
"Oh, have you no interest in fashion? Florica dragged you here, I imagine.”
“Ah, no I actually ran into Florica here. And I am very interested in art. The world is a very beautiful place, and I am interested in the different ways of interpreting it. In fact, I’m on assignment blogging fashion week so if you want to give me a quote for my article on your show that would be lovely.”
“That is
interesting, because I think, I mean, if you were willing, you could
pull off high fashion very well.” She took Elmira’s empty
wine glass from her hand, ignoring her statement about a quote, and
replaced it with one from the table behind her.
Sven, where was
Sven? She scanned the crowd briefly over Adrienne’s shoulder.
“Thank you. And it was a pleasure meeting you. I will let you get back to your business.”
Adrienne’s eyes lingered.
“Elmira, would you do me a small favor?”
No. Leave.
“Ah, it depends.”
“I’ve got to get backstage to prepare, but if you would join me, I’ve got a fantastic coat with your name on it. It would be a great help, honestly.”
Elmira stared.
She was proud of her stare. It was neutral but not weak. It allowed her a mask of passivity while she considered her options.
She could leave. She wanted to leave. She had wanted to leave the minute she walked in the door. There were a few problems with this idea. Firstly, she was on assignment. She was here to get some interviews. She couldn’t pussy out of that because of whatever passive aggressive shit the designer was trying. She was sadly regretting making the effort to even watch the show this afternoon instead of sleeping. Secondly, it would be rude to Adrienne. And last, but probably most importantly, she was a fighter. Leaving now would mean that the fashion world had won, that they had successfully scared Elmira Olivette into running away. Elmira did not run away, that wasn’t who she was, and she wasn’t going to be that now.
She could stay but
turn Adrienne down. This, also, was an attractive option, except for
the fact that all of the nearby tables had seen and heard Adrienne
ask her backstage, and she had no real or fake excuse not to.
Besides, it would give her an up close look at the clothes.
The
crowd watched her expectantly from their seats.
This was going to be terrible.
“Of course. Anything to help.”