Keeping Up Appearances
I really do hate it when people talk to me about their life story. It bores me to tears when someone feels the need to fill me in on the goings on in their local country club. I do not care that the Hadleys’ youngest child has left for college nor does it interest me that Mick Miller has a new twenty-something trophy that he flashes to anyone who will listen. The conversation this evening truly is dire, she is wittering on at me at this very moment. She is so caught up in her dull conversation that she does not even notice the glaze over my eyes or the vacuous nods to show that I am pretending to listen. Mrs Cumberledge is always one to gossip about nothing Helen had said the last time I was dragged into conversation with this dreadful woman. I am Helen’s boyfriend and so it is a must that she flaunts me to all of her friends and fellow members of this bourgeoisie. She is a quite a peculiar character, Helen. We have known each other since our time at The Marion Westwood School in Boston, where we were in the same tutor group. She played lacrosse whilst my time on the green was spent mostly running and playing as little football as possible. Helen and I didn’t actually start dating until seniors and this remains our alliance till this day. She is not beautiful. By no means is she ugly, oh God of course not, but she isn’t beautiful. Just ordinary…
She has just mentioned Helen, do I pretend look interested? No, just stare blankly. Hmm… that necklace looks cheap. My God, can you believe it? How many people in South Africa did it take to mine that? Zero I would bet as that is obviously gold plated, oh times must be desperately hard. Can you believe she spends her time going on and on about others’ monetary affairs and yet she fucking manages to wear cheap metal on her neck with pride. God she reeks of fraudulence. No doubt if I interrupt her now and ask her about that thing she will tell me that it is an old family heirloom. Hmm, I will ask her. Oh it is an old family heirloom, she says, yes I can tell, it is just so beautiful. God I hate people like her, back in freshman year I had a roommate like her. He came from quite a wealthy family, not that wealthy, but enough to bluff his way into the most exclusive fraternities. He had the most awful pair of shoes, scuffed and never polished. I think he did it intentionally to avert attention away from his father’s large donation to Harvard Law School. Obviously wanted to appear like any other John Smith but that was not the case when it came to the Porcellian. How he was allowed to join is beyond me, it makes me so angry. I wish I had ju– and here comes Helen. Hand on my shoulder, she will come to my left side and hold my, yes there she is, holding my hand. Probably will not have the decency to take me away from this conversation.
Well at least she has diverted the woman’s attention to herself. What time is it? Twenty two past eleven, good. We will be gone in an hour or so. That reminds me, I need to buy Clara something when I see her tomorrow. Just to keep her from whining about my not seeing her today. That woman is becoming a burden but she serves her purpose. For now at least, till I can find an alternative though this one will be difficult to get rid of. May even start talking to Helen and I cannot have that. The material that this woman with her fake gold would have would be enough to make me cry. Oh Miller is leaving, that girl is quite attractive, unlucky her. Perhaps I will be introduced to her next time. Oh good, Helen is apologising now, we are leaving. Just as well because I could not take that woman or any of these people any longer. Awful people.
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