“Cynthia, there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you. The street looks wonderful, as usual. And your costume is adorable. Helen told me you had some trouble at the grocery store this afternoon.” My neighbor Alexis walks toward me with a conspiratorial smile and stops next to me, the fringe of her black 1920s flapper dress swishing around her knees.
Glancing down at my long, pale, blue-and-white satin ball gown with glitter tulle accents, I nervously run my fingers over the black velvet choker around my neck before smoothing the sides of my hair that leads to a high bun and straightening the blue headband on top of my head and give Alexis a nervous smile.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Have you tried my gluten-free cupcakes yet? I’ve gotten a lot of compliments on them this year.” I point two tables down, where my cupcakes, which absolutely no one has touched, are piled on a pumpkin-shaped plate.
Alexis moves closer and rests her hand on my forearm.
“Helen said you were having some money problems and that immoral woman a few houses down actually helped you. Is that true?” she whispers loudly, causing a few heads to turn in our direction.
I smile uncomfortably and shake my head at the people staring in our direction before addressing Alexis.
“Her name is Ariel, and she’s a very lovely woman,” I inform her, refusing to dignify the money-problems comment with a response.
“Well, Helen was very concerned when she saw you speaking with her and said something about how she paid for your groceries. I just couldn’t believe my ears when she told me that. I said, ‘There’s no way Cynthia would ever speak to that woman, let alone take money from her.’ The idea is just preposterous! But Helen was adamant she saw it all happen. Is everything okay with Brian? Did he lose his job? He’s never missed one of our Halloween parties, and I’m just so worried about you, Cynthia. You know you can tell me anything, right?” Alexis asks, giving my arm a gentle squeeze.
It’s amazing how Ariel calling me out for being judgmental has suddenly made me hyperaware of it in other people. The smile on Alexis’s face is the fakest thing I’ve ever seen, and her eyes are wide with curiosity, not concern. Not to mention the cringe of disgust on her face each time she mentions Ariel. It makes me physically ill wondering how many times I looked exactly like this when gossiping about Ariel, or anyone else for that matter.
I grit my teeth and continue smiling at her, knowing I most certainly cannot tell this woman anything. I’ve known Alexis since she and her husband moved onto Fairytale Lane nine years ago. We go to our weekly book club meetings together, she’s on the PTA with me, her daughter is the same age as Anastasia, and I always enjoyed her company when we would get the girls together. I considered her a friend and someone I could talk to about almost everything, but suddenly, standing here in the middle of the street, listening to her pretend to be concerned for me when I know she just wants gossip to spread around to the other neighbors, I’m seeing her in a new light. I’m seeing her the way Ariel sees me. As a stuck-up busybody who judges people. And I don’t like it.
“Everything is fine, Alexis. Brian is out of town for work and, silly me, I brought the wrong purse with me to the store.” I lie easily, wishing I had the courage to tell this woman that my personal life is none of her business.
“Honey, you can be honest with me, it’s okay. People have been talking and, well . . . it doesn’t sound like things are too good for you right now,” Alexis says with fake sympathy.
Nausea blossoms in my stomach, and I press a shaking, sweaty hand there to calm my nerves. This is exactly what I didn’t want—people talking and spreading rumors, even if they are true. I’m embarrassed that I let something like this happen. That I let a man I thought I loved take advantage of me and leave me with nothing. I want a hole in the ground to open up and swallow me whole so I don’t have to stand here knowing everyone is talking about me behind my back and making me look like a fool, unable to do anything but take it because I’m not the type of woman who would make a scene, even though I desperately want to.
“Hey, nosey. How about you mind your own fucking business?”
My head whips around and my eyes widen in shock when Ariel comes up next to us, wearing a sexy, skintight, sequined, red-and-green mermaid costume, pointing a red Solo cup at Alexis.