Sunday

Gloria walked to her polished BMW 3 series convertible. It had been 2 months since Suzie’s tragic death and she still missed her best friend. She needed to tell someone of the new developments in her life, how lovely it was to wake up next to Philip that morning… well maybe not that part. They hadn’t planned it. It just happened. After the funeral, they went out to coffee and she cried for another hour. They called each other up in the middle of the night and shared memories of her. Gradually there appeared a void if she didn’t hear from him everyday. She knew it was wrong. She felt so guilty but she couldn’t ignore the fluttering butterflies in her stomach when she looked at him or the smile that crept onto her lips when his name flashed up on her phone. This must mean that she was a bad person, destined straight for hell.

Friday

Brendan looked at his clock. Damn, he was running late again. Was all that white stuff on the jacket? He had no idea where his mum had put the lint roller and he didn’t have time to look for it. Maybe he wouldn’t wear the jacket. Don’t be ridiculous, this wasn’t some smart casual lunch. He was lucky he found a tie untainted with animal figures or cartoon characters. The funeral was starting in less than an hour. He still had to drive through rush hour traffic and find a parking space. This whole thing seemed like a dream. The police still hadn’t found a suspect. There were no fingerprints on the knife and the security camera had been switched off. An inside job? Surely not. Who would have wanted to harm sweet lovely Suzie? Yet there she was now, lying in a hard wooden box, waiting to be lowered into the ground.

Tuesday

Late afternoon at Susanna’s 2nd Hand Bookshop. I knew I shouldn’t have brought Zoe out with me today. She’s just started walking and loves to run off without telling me. I was reading the backcover of the latest John Irving novel when I noticed her rounding the corner of the Spirituality and New Age shelf.
“Zoe!!!” I called.
I put the book back on the shelf and went after her.
“There you are. Please stay next to Mummy…what…what’s this stuff on your hands?”
It was red and sticky.
I looked beyond her and stopped.
No, it can’t be.
Lying on the floor was a woman, her dark hair splayed around her head, her hemline fallen above her knees, her eyes wide open, as if she was staring at the ceiling, oblivious to the knife protruding from the waistband of her stained blue dress.

Suzie

The sky was mercilessly blue and devoid of clouds. Suzie wondered if it was too early to call her boyfriend and ask about his day. It was not even 24 hours since she last saw him. Was she getting too clingy? They’d only been dating for about a month. Actually, it was 29 days since she melted into his piercing blue eyes at Gloria’s party. At first she was hesitant to give him her number as she vaguely recalled Gloria talking excitedly about this amazing Himalayan guy she hoped would turn up. But after they spent a few hours discussing art, film, love and many other things, there was no question of how much she wanted to see this guy again. Gloria seemed okay with it too as she spent the rest of the party making out with some guy in a cowboy hat.
So it had progressed from there- dinners, movies, sleepovers. She’d met some of his friends at the pub- they seemed nice and employed in a variety of artistic pursuits. His inner city sharehouse was just two suburbs from her bookshop. She enjoyed waking up next to him, eating breakfast together and catching the bus to work with the memory of his kiss still fresh on her lips. She allowed herself to be hopeful that he could be THE ONE. Although last night she had slept at home- he had to meet an old friend. A little space is good, she thought. I can still do things by myself. Gingerly sipping her piping hot soy latte, Suzie settled down behind the counter for a pleasant day.

Philip

Philip was from the Himalayas. He had no idea why he now lived in such a polluted, crowded and rude city, full of Neanderthals basking in their own glory. He longed for the clean mountain air and dirt tracks leading to cool, mysterious darkness of the forest. Everyday, he would rise at dawn, wash his face with river water and go for a wander amongst the trees. He would listen to the birds exchange greetings and the dry foliage crunch underneath his boots. And he would pass by her tree, place the flat on his palm on the rough bark and inhale its scent. He could still see her long fine hair, weightless against the wind as she ran away from him. The faster he pushed his legs forward, the smaller the figure became, until it faded into the green and brown mosaic. Taking a final breath of air, he would admit his defeat and trudge back to camp, leaving her memory scattered within the decaying vegetation.

Gloria

The roses had smelled glorious, like her name. But the attention and catcalls arising from the group had made her feel uncomfortable. Gloria disliked being the centre of attention. The watching eyes seemed to be waiting for her to give an inappropriate response or knock over the tea. Brendan was a nice guy- established career, fancy car, designer apartment on the right side of the bridge. But there was just no spark. She felt nothing when she looked at him, blushing like a shy schoolboy as he approached her with that ghastly ostentatious display of affection. There was no quickening of her heartbeat or an inexplicable yearning to hold his gaze, like when she looked at Philip. Or rather, how Philip looked at Suzie, her best friend. The happy couple had met a few months ago at an extravagant pool party Gloria threw for her birthday, in a vain attempt to seduce Philip in her skimpy leopard print string bikini. Instead, Philip had spent the whole day gazing at Suzie, chatting over apple martinis. There was talk of them moving in together and Philip had been asking her what would be a reasonable price for an engagement ring. Gloria sighed and picked up another spring roll wrapped in rice noodle, hoping the calorie-laden batter would soak up her sorrow.

Brendan

Brendan was nervous. He clutched the bunch of red roses close to his chest. He hoped no one else would enter the lift and squash the flowers. Or worse, ask him who they were for, at which point he would be tempted to enter into a lengthy description of his beloved and the ensuing drama attached. The lift doors opened. He walked onto the shiny reflective tiles leading to the restaurant. It was close to lunchtime and the place was bustling. Trolleys of bamboo steamers swished past containing exotic delicacies like marinated chicken feet, translucent dumplings and assorted offal. Yum Cha had evolved from being a trophy of the Asian communities to a regular darling of the general diverse culinary public.
There she was, dressed in a pink tunic with her trademark double strands of pearls, laughing at some witty repartee from her neighbour. “Happy Birthday, Gloria.” He gave her the enormous bouquet of 12 red roses, fit for a pop princess at her sold-out concerts. She smiles at him, flashing her million dollar white teeth and flicking back her hair. She puts the flowers on a table behind her, already overflowing with presents. Normally in such a social situation, friends greet each other with a hug and kiss on the cheek. Brendan was so anxious that he just froze, standing there like a statue, until his friend tugged on this sleeve and told him to sit down.