Okay, My Dear

The woman beside her had been laughing for nearly ten minutes.

“You’re terrible,” the woman said, reaching for her glass.

The story was about a wedding in which the bride’s mother changed clothes three times before the couple cut the cake.

“Three?”
“Three. By the second outfit, she was receiving guests as though she was the one getting married.”
Someone asked what the third outfit was for.

“Photographs. Apparently the first two didn’t photograph well.”
The table erupted.
Across from her, Titi shook her head.
“You people should enjoy her tonight.”

“Why?”
“Because you might never see her again.”
She raised her glass to Titi.
“It’s true.”
“But she’s so much fun,” the woman said.
“Exactly,” Titi said. “That’s how she deceives everybody.”

She had heard this warning so many times that she sometimes joined in before Titi finished.
“Don’t collect my number expecting anything,” she told the woman.
“Why?”

“Because I won’t come.”
The woman laughed, assuming it was a joke.
“She’s serious,” Titi said.
She was.
She just didn’t need any of it to have a good Saturday.

Titi’s husband liked being at home. Her children could spend whole weekends in their rooms without noticing it was Saturday.
“Let’s go somewhere,” Titi would say.
“Where?”
“Anywhere.”
“Titi.”
“Just come.”

Sometimes she agreed.
On the day itself, Titi’s phone would light up.

My dear, I don’t think I’m going to make it.
At first, Titi called.

“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Then come.”
“I’m tired.”
“You haven’t done anything!”
“Exactly. And I want to continue.”
There were tickets for performances she never attended. Restaurant reservations adjusted from two people to one. Invitations accepted on Tuesday and reconsidered on Saturday.

Then Titi stopped arguing.
“There’s something on Saturday,” Titi would say. “I’ll send it to you.”
“Okay.”
“And please, don’t start giving me stories.”

When she cancelled, Titi no longer called.
“Okay, my dear.”

That was all.
One Thursday, weeks later, she saw an advertisement for a play. She read the description, checked the date and sent it to Titi.
Are you free on Saturday? Let’s go and see this.
Titi called at once.
“Who is this?”

She laughed.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m just checking that somebody hasn’t stolen your phone.”
“Do you want to go?”
“Of course!”

“Then I’ll buy the tickets.”
“Should I buy my own?”
“Titi, I’m buying both.”
“Okay, my dear.”
A pause.

“Are you sure?”
She ended the call.
Titi sent laughing faces.
Then:
I’m looking forward to it.
On Saturday, Titi sent photographs of two dresses.
Which one?
She chose the blue.

At four:
I’m ready.
The play was at six. She was still deciding what to wear.
Titi had sweets in her handbag. She offered one before they reached the main road.
“What?”

“Nothing.”
“Why are you smiling?”
“Am I not allowed to smile?”

“You’re behaving as if I’ve never left my house before.”
Titi looked at her.

She laughed.
“Face front.”
At the interval, they met someone Titi knew. Within minutes, the three of them were discussing a restaurant that had just opened and a woman whose birthday party had continued long after she’d gone home.

When the bell sounded, Titi caught her arm.

“Come. Before you find another person to talk to.”
In the second act, she laughed so loudly that the woman in front turned around twice.

At home, she took off her earrings. Unfastened her bra, slipped one arm out, then the other, and pulled it free beneath her blouse.

Her phone rang.
“We had a good time.”
“We did.”

“The woman in front turned around twice.”
“Go and sleep.”
“Okay, my dear. Thank you for today.”

A few minutes later, another message arrived.
I’ve sent you the other play I was telling you about.

There was a photograph of the cast and a date.

She read it.
No pressure, o.
She smiled and turned off the lamp.