Lily’s project was simple.
It came to her as she was forever writing about style and fashion and things that seemed strangely unimportant at times of crisis, yet that magically operated on people no matter what, even more so in volatile times, as if the height of a heel was the best saving board one could hope for.
It puzzled her, but she did not judge. She seldom judged anyone anyway and belonged to the “If it makes you happy, then frankly my dear, I don’t give much of another fuck”.
Of course, those were the words of Gabrielle. Lily liked to call it “the live and let live” motto, which amounted to pretty much the same thing, minus her friend’s colorful language.
She had hung up on Ziad. A knee-jerk reaction which reeked of drama, as bluntly put by Nina who was once more her normal self, her bout of Baudelairesque spleen long gone. So Lily hung up on Ziad, took her purse like an automaton,and had made it straight to Nina’s workshop.
– La2! La2 Monsieur Antoine! No no no no no no! I specifically requested the Calais lace, and what you have given me is an insult to your house and my dresses! Perfectly so! Yes! I do not recall to have asked for mock-lace in nylon coming straight from a Manila sweatshop. This isn’t what I want and I’m returning them to you and if you prove once more unable to procure me the fabric I request, then I shall switch suppliers! Yes, you heard me! Yes, that’s right, make it express delivery, with a complimentary peonies bouquet! Yes Monsieur Antoine, I do love peonies.
Lily was miserably standing in the middle of the workshop, blankly staring at her fulminating friend, her eyes a little pink. She looked like a rabbit in a hole.
– What’s with you? You look like a rabbit in a hole!
Nina appeared most definitely all revved up.
Lily looked as if she were made of stone.
– Ok habibti, you take your own sweet time and root yourself to the middle of my space while I busy myself throwing away useless fabric and make us some tea.
Nina banged and plonked and slammed and jammed things unto stoves and pots and saucers. Evidently Monsieur Antoine was getting a little old and a little mixed up with Nina’s orders, something life threatening enough at the best of times without throwing in the mix a statute of a friend and shambles of a country.
Lily came to.
– I have hung up on your brother…
– So what else is new?
– And, carried on Lily,ignoring her friend’s sarcastic comment, he said he was an animal and his voice seemed to tell me he still loved me and I hung up.
Nina froze and seemed to try to get her head around that last statement. She also looked like she was trying to muster the very little patience she still had. She put her palm up in the air in a gesture signaling to Lily that she was not to talk.
– So let me get this straight: you love Ziad.
– Ziad loves you, even though you broke up over his never ending questions and drama, although frankly, I’m seeing quite a bit of drama here but anyway.
– You cry and you kick and you bore us to death with my brother, and when he calls you, you don’t hear what he has to say, you hang up on him and you make it straight to here.
– Lily. Nina drew a breath. Lily. What. The. Fuck. Is. Wrong. With.You and my stupid brother? No, no, you listen to me now. I’m not saying you have to run back to him, all open eyes and dewy eyes and Celine Dion singing in the background, but you have been tossing and turning torturing yourself for hours on end, and an explanation coming from him might not have hurt. In any case, there is no point now telling you this, call him back.
– I don’t have his number
– It’s not nice to lie to your friends as we both know you know it by heart and you of course know I have it.
– No but Nina, what would I say to him?
– How about, errr what do you want from me now, stop jerking me around and make up your mind once and for all so that I can stop being such a wreck?
– Your temper is very short today Nina, stated Lily a bit startled. That behaviour was mostly out of character for her normally poised friend.
– Yeah well what do you know, I might have taken a Gabrielle pill, or maybe Lebanon is turning me into the fighter I should always have been.
The Bakelite antique seemed to look at Lily with a threatening stare. Sighing, she picked the receiver.