The Seven Confessions of Celia St. James

I'll watch your life in pictures

It was the night of the Oscars. Neither of us quite thirty, but near. I wore a classy pale blue strapless gown and hung on my husband's arm. On the carpet, Evelyn didn't notice me glance. I made it a point to locate her just so I could keep myself from accidentally looking in her direction. She had on that famous beaded black dress with the slits on the side right up to her hips. It's a gorgeous dress, if not a little racy. My heart beat so fast I feared it might be visible through my chest. We took our seats. When the announcer called our names, Ev and I locked eyes. Ruby's name resounded announcing her as the winner. Our spell was broken. Evelyn's face darkened. I felt bad realizing she thought she might have had a shot at the award. She waited a moment, then got up. I knew where she was going so I stood and followed.

By the time I reached the bathroom, she was in a stall crying quietly. It made me sad to hear her cry.

"Evelyn," I called softly.

"Celia?" The sound of her voice pierced my heart. The woman I loved was at arm's length behind that door and I could never, ever, have her.

"I saw you...I worried you might be upset," I stammered.

"I'm trying to be happy for Ruby but..."

"Me neither."

When she exited the stall I was caught entirely off guard. Up close she was extraordinary. Time had refined her features and thinned her face just so. I swallowed hard and stepped back seeking the sink for balance, leaning against it.

"You are gorgeous," she said.

"You're not so bad yourself?" I uttered. "We should probably go. Wouldn't want to be caught in here together."

"Why not?" asked Evelyn, as if she didn't know.

"You wouldn't want them thinking we're up to it again, would you?" The moment I heard my words out loud I regretted them.

"Or maybe you just don't want to be seen with a...what was it? A...whore?" The tone in her voice was playful, to my relief.

"What do you want me to say, Ev? I was wounded. I wanted to hurt you right back, the way you hurt me."

"I didn't do it on purpose. I would never hurt you on purpose."

"You kept hiding us. You were ashamed to love me." I felt I might cry. I did not want to cry. I swallowed the knot forming in my throat.

"I was never ashamed."

"You sure went out of your way to hide me."

"I did it to protect us."

"Debatable."

"Then let's talk it out. Let's debate. Don't just run away..."

"I didn't run far, you could have caught me."

"I don't like playing games, Celia."

"You certainly play them with everyone else."

"I guess I'm a hypocrite."

She said it nonchalant; it bothered me. "How do you do that? How are you so blasé about gaming people."

"Because I don't care about people. I care about you."

"You used to."

"I didn't misspeak."

I felt faint. "You married Rex."

"A strategic move."

"It was fake?"

"Every second."

"You didn't fuck him?"

"Not even once."

"Have you been with anyone else. Any men?" I hated myself for asking because I wasn't entitled to the answer, and because I already knew the answer, and because I knew the answer would break my heart.

"Yes." She said, as delicately as she could manage, knowing how much I hate the thought of her with men. I pictured myself punching a hole through a wall, but she interrupted this thought when she asked, "You've been having a good time as well, I take it?"

I was surprised she'd ask. I was sure she knew all about my very gay husband who happened to be bedding her fiancé. "John is..."

"You know I don't mean John. And I'm sure you haven't kept chaste."

I didn't want to answer, but had to. "No. No I haven't."

"Any men?"

I shook my head no, knowing the thought of me touching other women made her crazy with envy.

"Anyone I know?"

"No. None of them meant anything to me. And when I was with them, I thought about you."

"You shouldn't have left me, Celia."

"You shouldn't have let me go."

"I know," she whimpered regretfully again and again, like a wounded animal, and she might have once more but for my longing to quiet her. I moved towards drawing her into my arms in one swift motion. I married my lips to hers putting an end to a half a decade of holding my breath. I wouldn't have released her except these two broads came in to use the ladies. We parted in time, evading suspicion, I at the sink washing my hands, Evelyn at the mirror fixing her hair. Thankfully, the intruding pair was blissfully unaware of anyone or anything around them, boozy and gay. On their exit, Evelyn came for me, lustful and eager, kissing me like thunder. She pinned me to the door and lifted my dress, her mouth on my neck. Reveling in her perfume, I was too stunned to think and too thrilled to care. The feel of her fingertips gliding up my thigh, seeking, finding, needing, of her whole body pressed against me, flooded my senses. I was all indulgence, blushing sinful, biting my palm to keep from crying out. It felt like she wanted to tear me apart. She tore me apart alright. And my fucking heart.