Sensual Politics

eleven

picture: betty's flower crown

11

eleven

It was a beautiful day. The sun had shone brightly but the heat was minimum, the wind crisp and chilly that reminded Betty of ice-cream. Summer was officially over and done, now that she could see the autumn leaves falling down like jigsaw pieces. It was her favourite kind of weather; Betty felt the happiest that she had in weeks.

Majority of that happiness also had to do with the fact that it was her seventeenth birthday. And she was done surrounding herself with melancholic thoughts, and wallowing in despair. At least for now. At least for today.

Her mother wanted Betty to throw a birthday bash, but after the few weeks she's had since the school commenced, having those students over for a drunken night out didn't seem appealing to say the least. So she happily settled for quality over quantity, inviting her coterie of girls for an exquisite evening garden party.

She had adorned herself in a flowy white dress with a pair of white boot heels. It was knee-length with spaghetti straps but she didn't mind the cold in the slightest. Her golden hair was loosely tied up, the curls swaying past her forehead and shoulders. She wore hoops in her ears and a couple of jingling bracelets. To complete the vintage look, she wore a daisy flower crown that she had woven a couple days ago.

Mentally congratulating herself at the effort of keeping up with the theme, she let out a little sigh. Even though Betty was doing a great job at keeping her feelings in check, they slipped out every now and then; and she couldn't help but feel defeated from the inside. She let her thoughts wander to her father for once. He sent her cheap birthday cards for the first two years after he left them. He didn't even bother to write her name on it, but it was obvious who the consignor was. Betty never looked at them more than once. And after those two years, there was nothing but silence.

Shaking off the thoughts and discarding them into the farthest corners of her mind, Betty left her room and wandered through the house making some final arrangements. Blake had come over earlier and helped her with the décor and food.

To say the garden had been transformed into a scene from a fairytale is an understatement. Betty took a moment to adore her hardwork. They hung over a dozen origami balls and paper lamps from the trees, underneath of which sat wooden tables and benches in a row. They set the tables with glittery white fabric and china dishes, and glass cutlery. A buffet module was adjacent to it, housing baked buns, cinnamon rolls, cheese quesadillas, pizza pin-wheels, fries and dips to the side. Chocolate dipped strawberries and wafers, and sweet tea and lemonade for dessert. She had worked extra hard to make her swing chair look attractive, surrounding it with lanterns, candles and fairy lights.

It was a dreamy experience, and she felt no less than a princess.

Soon enough, the place was brimming with light chatter from her friends and their endless gushing over the pretty sight. Betty delightfully thanked them for the presents and wishes, complimenting their outfits when they said they loved hers. She served them refreshments, clicked pictures under the sparkling lights, and played them a song on the old piano in their living room.

Filled with content and gratification, Betty was just preparing for her two-tiered birthday cake to make an entrance, when the doorbell rang through the house. Confused, she scanned the garden but couldn't find anyone missing. And without warning, a feeling of dread overtook her as she took the few steps to the front door. She was vaguely aware of Blake following behind her but the heartbeat in her ears was drumming too loud, drowning out the sound of her footsteps. Betty placed her palm over the doorknob and willed herself to be brave. The unmistakable scent of betrayal travelled to her before she even twisted it open.