Can You Blame Eve?
“Florence?” Abruptly, my mother snatched me back from my thoughts.
“ELIZABETH?” I dared a glance at her.
“Is everything alright with you?”
“Yes, Mother. Is everything alright with you?” I shot back.
“Yes, thank you for asking,” she said, reaching for a glass of water in front of her. “Such a shame we had to skip this morning—” With a sigh, she pressed her lips together. “—but did you two have a good time?”
“We absolutely did,” said Miles, whose presence I hadn’t acknowledged until now. He offered my mother a smile and then, with a frown, he shifted his gaze to me.
“Yes, it was lovely,” I added, rolling my eyelids down, back to the plate full of green beans sitting in front of me.
The conversation slowly moved onto family business.
Dad apparently had an important potential buyer for one of the yachts, the name he couldn’t reveal just yet, but we definitely knew him from the movies.
Then my mother, ever the Terry Crews enthusiast, would predictably ask, “Is it Terry Crews?” and then my father, just like all the other times, would say, “I’m afraid not, Elizabeth, but maybe one day. ”
The mention of family business was an inevitable trigger for mother’s lecture. Her disappointed voice would start the argument. “You could have had everything you wanted, Florence!”
And before I could stop myself, I’d yell, “This is what I want!” Dad would clear his throat, acknowledging the two of us fighting, but still leave the room for the last word.
Jo, ever the peacemaker, jumped in. “Card game, anyone?” Her gaze darted nervously between us. Not as enthusiastically as she would have wanted, we all mumbled in agreement.
***
Josephine nestled across from us, hands splayed against the coffee table, waiting for our attention to settle in.
When it did, she reached for the deck of cards, shuffled, then launched into explaining the rules of the game.
“It is called Virus. To win—” She raised her eyebrow.
“—you need to assemble a human body consisting of four healthy organs while trying to stop your opponents—” Lowering her voice, with a thrilling tone she added, “—from infecting, stealing or…destroying them.”
“Oof.” My father shifted in his seat. “This could get interesting.”
“What are the four parts we need to gather?” asked Miles, eyebrows slightly slanted with intrigue.
Displaying the cards one by one, Jo started naming them in the exact order. “Bone. Kidney. Brain. Heart. Or…the unique one—” She showed us a multicoloured card. “—that, to your advantage, replaces any other you lack.”
“Hmm.” Sipping on a cold glass of wine, piece by piece my mind raced through the instructions of the game, a slow smirk playing on my lips when my eyes reached the ‘infecting and destroying’ part. And yes, I was well aware that wasn’t very ethical of me.
Scanning the room full of rivals, I finally snagged the cards ready to be played.
“Oh, come on Mark, this is definitely cheating,” Miles blurted out with a laugh.
“Yeah,” I said, furrowing my brow in suspicion. “You aren’t supposed to help your future wife! What kind of strategy is that?”
“Okay! Okay!” Mark sighed, playfully winking at Jo.
“Your turn, Dominic,” my mother said with a challenging tone in her voice. A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth right before he infected my mother’s card. “And this is what I get for taking the vow to cherish him all these years.” A dry chuckle left her as she shook her head.
“In love…and sickness.” He nodded at her. “Remember?”
“Well, at least someone is actually playing this game.” I shot a knowing glance at Mark, reaching for my wine. A refreshing sip of crisp Sancerre soothed the dryness in my throat. One more move and very soon I would be savouring another flavour: the flavour of victory.
“Miles?” Jo peeked at him from behind her neatly arranged cards. “Your turn.”
And that was it. It was down to us. Me or him.
“Hmm.” He chewed on his lip, his eyes flickering around the table. There was just one organ missing, which he clearly didn’t have. Sadly for me, what he did have clutched firmly in between his fingers, I suspected, was the ‘organ thief.’
“Well,” he drawled with a smirk. His daring glance lingered on me for a beat. It was that look—the not-so-sorry-you-lost look. Frustrated, but ready to graciously accept my defeat, I darted my gaze back at him. “Do it!”
Our eyes locked in a brief moment as he leaned in to reach for my card. “It looks like—” His smile only spread wider. “—I’m going to steal your heart, Florence Grant.”
His words stunned me, momentarily leaving me blinking a few times.
Logically, of course, I knew what he meant by that—the card—yet some other part of my brain, the irrational one, made butterflies erupt in my stomach, a delicious fluttering that danced a light jig against my ribs.
Something dark stirred within me, an urge to take a forbidden bite, a taste of fruit from the Gardens of Heaven.
After all, can you blame Eve? She too sought knowledge, and perhaps something more.
I hadn’t even realised how long the two of us were staring at each other. Well, I was definitely eye-fucking him until someone, thank God, possibly Mark, choked out a laugh. “Nice one!” And then I finally blinked away.
“Just beginner’s luck,” I muttered, unbothered. While averting my gaze from him, I noticed another piercing one staring right at me. My mother’s. Great .
“Well, I think I am quite tired.” She stood up. “You children, do not mind us. Me and your father have an early morning tomorrow.”
“We do?” my father asked with a wisp of confusion in his voice.
“Well, that thing.” She forced a smile at him. Oh, I knew what she was doing.
“What’s that thing, Mum?” I shot a demanding question.
Defensively, she crossed her arms together. “That thing, Florence, would be the family business you so desperately wanted to know nothing about.”
“Oh! RIGHT!” I sighed, mentally rolling my eyes at her.
“Well,” she announced, “we should bid you all a goodnight then.”
With my parents gone upstairs, Jo suggested we play some music and uncork another bottle of wine she’d snatched from the family cellar.
“This smells expensive,” she said, humming along to Al Green’s ‘Let’s Stay Together’ while singing in the background.
Curling my fingers around the cold glass of wine, I leaned in to inhale its aromas. “Mmm, pears?” The first sip, instantly refreshing, felt like a cool breeze on a hot summer day. The crisp citrusy notes followed, pleasing to my palate.
“Dance with me, Florence,” Jo giggled, her hand suddenly reaching for mine.
“Hmm.” I wrinkled my nose and slightly shook my head.
“Pleaaase?” She pressed her lips together in a playful pout, just like she used to when we were kids.
I rolled my eyes with a short chuckle as I pushed to my feet. “Well, alright, Josephine!” Fingers entwined but barely touching, our swaying bodies followed the rhythm of the irresistible romantic soul track. Humming the melody, she wrapped her arms around my shoulders and then whispered the lyrics.
“Oh, my Josie.” I hugged my sister tighter, grateful to experience the kind of love Al Green was singing about, and kissed her on the cheek.
Noticing Mark stealing glances at her, I shot him a knowing look and playfully spun her into his arms.
“May I cut in?” he asked her with a charming smile.
“She is all yours,” I laughed, sinking back into my seat.
Catching those grey sky eyes on me from the couch across from mine, I asked, “What?” The warmth that was on my face seconds ago was replaced by a frown.
“Um—” Miles cleared his throat. His jaw slightly tensed with a faint crease between his brows. “—I’m sorry, Florence,” he said. “I…I didn’t know.”
“Well, now that you do, let’s just move on and forget about it.” Filling the air with an awkward silence, we both raised cool glasses to our lips.
“Um—” He looked up, his eyes finding mine. “—I think…I might have misjudged you.” His words certainly came as a surprise.
“You might have misjudged me?” I choked out the question. “Miles, please, you made your assumptions long before you even got a chance to know me. And I think the right word here is ‘prejudged.’”
“I guess—” He hesitantly pressed his lips together, considering his next thought. “—I was just surprised to learn that you are the only one in your family business who doesn’t play by the rules?”
“Well,” I snorted, “I don’t care about all that sort of thing, or money. Never did.”
“Of course you don’t…” he trailed off wryly.
“Ouch! What’s that supposed to mean?” I stared at him with an unwavering gaze.
“Well, that’s exactly what people with money would say.”
“Oh, I get it!” I laughed defensively at his judgement.
“So you thought I was some spoilt rich girl, playing some kind of act, pretending to have a real job and real problems when, in fact, the only thing I care about is whether that designer sandwich bag matches my shoes, or—” I rolled my eyes with a scoff.
“—if I have Balenciaga tape bracelet like the rest of my privileged friends, otherwise I’ll have a tantrum. ”
“God! That’s not… That’s not what I was saying!”
“Well, I wasn’t interested in your opinion anyway,” I snapped, my voice laced with anger. “I have my own reasons…for doing what I do—”
“Wait.” He momentarily shot me a puzzled look. “A tape bracelet?!”
“What?!” I furrowed, looking at him, even more puzzled than he was.
“Can’t imagine you wearing that,” he mused.
Another frustrated laugh broke from me. “And yet again, you don’t even know me! I might!”
“A tape bracelet?” he repeated again, a sudden snort escaping him. “An actual tape bracelet? Is that even a thing?”
Oh, God! Don’t laugh, don’t laugh… Do. Not. Fucking. Laugh.
“Apparently so!” I rasped, amused by the absurdity of this conversation and Miles’ reaction, an uncontrollable smile beaming across his face.
“But that’s not the point. What I’m trying to say, Miles,” I sighed, “is that even if hypothetically I had those things in my possession, would that be such a terrible thing?”
“Florence, that is not even remotely close to what I was saying,” he began, but I couldn’t help but cut him off.
“So what if I grew up pretty comfortably?” I gestured around the house, “Does this make me a bad person? Or everyone in this neighbourhood, including you, Mr. Fancy Car? Well—” I mustered a tight-lipped smile.
“—I don’t think so. And you certainly don’t seem to mind staying at my parents’ big, luxurious house and sleeping in my royal chambers , do you? ”
Miles leaned forward, his voice softening. “Florence, please.”
“Having money doesn’t make someone good or bad. Being a decent person is a choice. In fact, my family are some of the kindest people I know. Except maybe my mother, but that’s a different story.”
“Florence?” he sighed, staring at me.
“No, I understand, Miles.” Frustration tightened my throat, making my voice sound harsher than I intended.
“It’s not about the money itself, but rather a sense of entitlement, isn’t it?
Because you thought I was some kind of princess who believed she was better than everyone else.
” And suddenly, it all clicked. That’s what he thought.
Or at least, I thought he did. “You know what?” My monologue flowed breathlessly until Miles’ voice cut through the air.
“That’s enough!”
“Actually,” I said calmly, crossing my hands, “I haven’t quite finished. Unless you’d prefer I just skip to the part where I tell you exactly where you can go?”
A forced, playful grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Darling,” he began. Darling? “You’ve had the stage long enough.
Now it’s my turn.” He paused, letting his gaze linger on me for a moment before continuing in a softer tone.
“Okay,” he sighed, furrowing his brow, “I do acknowledge that I might be a poor judge of character—”
“You should really stop using the word ‘might’ so often!” I hissed.
“Look,” he continued, unfazed, “yes, I jumped to conclusions, thinking you were a spoilt brat, and for that, I’m sorry. But I don’t think that about you anymore.”
“Oh,” I laughed, “so, what, should I be grateful now?”
“Jesus, Florence!” he groaned with frustration, his jaw clenched.
“What I was trying to say while you were having your one-woman show,” he sighed, looking away, then back at me, “was that there’s just something about you…
” His voice dropped to a low, infuriatingly seductive rumble.
“Different. You’re…not what I expected.” What? !
A heavy silence hung in the air. A single “oh” escaped my lips.
He tilted his head towards me, studying my thunderstruck face as I stared back at him with stunned surprise. “Perhaps,” he finally continued, “we could set aside our…disagreements? Who knows, we might even find we have more in common than we thought. A clean slate? What do you say?”
Trying to collect my thoughts with everything that had just been said, I realised I didn’t even notice Jo and Mark had been gone for quite some time now. It was just me and him and Neil Young’s mellow country tune filling the stillness of the room.