Swordplay

Part 4

In the early evening, Moira's wake-up nerl tugged at her nose until the climbed out of bed reluctantly. Bleary eyed, she scuffled to the bathroom and got ready for the outing. Right on time at half past eight, she stood in front of a mirror, clean and nicely dressed, and put up her freshly washed, shoulder length, brown hair. She wondered if she should put on make-up, when the door-nerl slipped through his tube and announced Franzka. She gave him permission to open, and a little later, her best friend stormed in.

Like always, her hug hurt a little. Also, her new hairdo pricked Moira's face. She had colored her short, white blond curls and used gel to make them stand up in all directions. "Put on some make-up or you'll resemble a vampire beside me." The Sofa groaned when she slumped into it. "You can't imagine the day I had. People bought shoes as if the world ended tomorrow and they'd have to walk to heaven on foot." She put her feet in bright-read cowboy-boots on the table. "I'm so glad Tord will be back tomorrow."

"I didn't know he was gone." Moira walked back to the mirror to apply enough make-up to look her age.

"No wonder. You holed yourself up in this flat for month, cramming for some test or other that you might never get a chance to take, and you don't even call." Franka took a dark chocolate praline and pushed it between her dark red lips that stood out from her dark skin like bloody diamonds. "It's about time you'll see some people again. When was the last time you had a boyfriend?"

Moira shrugged. "It's been a while."

Franka clasped her hands behind her head and gazed over her shoulder back to Moira. "There is nothing better than love."

"In my opinion, love is thoroughly overrated." Moira cleared away the make-up into its drawer where it could stay for the next few years if she got a say in it. When she looked up, Franka stood behind her with a stern face.

"Do you think I could be the kind of happy soul you see without Tord? Look at me." She pointed to her massive body dressed in a loose, light green summer dress. "I look like a dressed up hippo on land. But he loves me – not despite the way I look but because of it, and because he likes my personality." She pushed out her rounded belly, placed her hands on her wide hips and shook her impressive breast. "Whatever I do, he loves it, and he still stands by me when I goof up. He's a male Moira, so to say, with a healthy appetite for sex."

Moira thought of the lanky young man who adored Franka and smiled. "You are lucky. This breed of men is rare."

Franka shook her head. "That's no fault of the men, it's you! You expect that they leave you like your dad did, so you're only attracting that kind of guy." She tapped Moira's shoulder with an index finger. "You'll have to start believing that someone loves you enough to stay with you forever and a day. Not every man is like your dad."

Moira pressed her lips together. She didn't want to talk about her father.

Franka sighed. "Fine. No hard feelings." She grabbed her handbag and walked to the door. "Will you still come?"

Moira glanced at the mirror a last time. Everything looked great, and she knew Franka's harsh words were only meant to help her although they hurt. She nodded and followed.

Half an hour later, they entered the festively decorated dining-hall of their former residential home. Music thundered from big boxes, drowned out by the talking party-guests.

Moira wished for earplugs. She stopped and looked around for familiar faces. Behind the guests, the same old photo prints hung at the same old pastel green walls. Dear me. I've sat here every day a short while back and it feels like an eternity.

"Moira! You're here, what a treat." A former floor-mate stormed toward her with outstretched arms. He put both hands on her shoulders and kissed her cheeks left and right. "You look great."