Pills of love

Should I laugh or cry (part 1)

Frida slowly frowned as she observed the chaotic comings and goings of the city while she fidgeted nervously in the back of the yellow cab she had called hours earlier to pick her up at the hotel.

She ran a hand through the blonde hair above her forehead almost nervously, then took a deep breath and twisted her hands in her lap. She looked down at them and made sure her dress was perfectly ironed. It was velvet, dark green, it was fitting, not too tight... But she felt suffocating.

It was ridiculous.

She was ridiculous.

That was why she had decided to go alone in the street between the hotel and the theater. Her friends, her son, she had told everyone to leave before her and without her, that she had a little detour to do before she'd join them there. And she was no longer as relieved as she was before about that decision, given the thousand thoughts that were running through her mind, needing only silence.

More than once she was tempted to tell the driver to turn around. Turn around and go back to the hotel because that was just a mistake. A painful mistake. She still didn't know why the heck had accepted the invitation first of all.

Because he had invited her to that premiere. At the first premiere of his first work alone after their break up. His first work that really mattered.

Maybe he'd sent her the invitation to be polite. To reiterate the fact that the hatchet has been put away. He had also invited her family, he had written to bring whoever she wanted.

An invitation out of pure courtesy. Almost out of pity.

Frida sighed deeply and shook her head slightly, telling herself to stop, that she couldn't believe him to be so mean or with who knows what ulterior motive for wanting her there. He wouldn't have invited her If he didn't want her there.

Or maybe he had just written down her name to the list on a whim, thinking she wouldn't come. Yeah, plausible. But then again, why adding her family?

He wasn't cruel. Not with them. Never with them.

Frida took another deep breath before turning her head again towards the city passing by her window, giving her a feeling of home, of calm, of warmth. But all too soon the cab stopped in front of the theater. Frida widened her eyes when she saw a lot of fans and paparazzi stationed on the sides of the entrance steps, loud and smiling.

She closed her eyes, feeling an army of butterflies in her stomach, threatening to make her feel sick. She didn't feel at ease.

"Well, have fun, miss Frida".

Frida jolted slightly when she heard those words and looked up at the driver, who had turned back to her with a big smile on his face.

"I'm a big fan" he said shily "Sorry, didn't want to bother you, but... Yeah... Big ABBA fan here" he chuckled quietly, embarrassed.

Frida snorted softly and searched in her purse for some money for the ride, but the man immediately stopped her, shaking his head.

"No, no. Please. It'd be an honor for me, this one is on the house" he smiled again sincerely and Frida couldn't help but smile too.

"Thank you" she said quietly and then opened the door. Immediately, a nearby valet helped her out of the taxi with a smile and a half bow.

Even though it was May, a gust of cold air hit her full in the face, making her shiver slightly and curse herself for not having brought a coat with her, but having entrusted it to Dan. She walked quickly on the red carpet, clutching the black handbag that she had in her hands, giving herself strength, and smiled left and right at the fans who were calling her at the top of their lungs, trying not to make a bad impression with her sight completely blinded by the flashes of the photographers who had gone crazy as soon as they had seen her.