Cornered
As soon as Persephone walked through the door of her two-story home, her phone started ringing. Reaching into her coat she looked at the screen to see who was calling.
It was Micaela.
Fuck. She shouldn't have fled in the manner that she did. It was only going to encourage questions.
Questions that at this juncture of her life, she was in no mood to answer.
When she moved to Seattle, she told herself she wouldn't seek any human connections for at least a year- but she wasn't expecting Micaela Dawson. Yes, maybe she wanted a feather in her cap by having a famous friend in her new city, she just didn't think about everything that would come along with the territory.
Not until Micaela started asking questions, anyway.
Persephone knew she would have to maneuver the situation gingerly, and without being so closed off.
She answered on the third ring, "This is Persephone."
"Honey? Are you okay?" She heard on the other line. "The way you ran away from the gardens this morning made me think maybe you weren't feeling so hot."
Persephone rubbed her forehead and exhaled. "I had a feeling of a fly about to be caught in a spider's web." She answered. "I hate feeling cornered."
A brief silence on Micaela's end. "Oh honey, but he's very handsome and he's rich. You may never get a chance like this again. You know women throw themselves at men like that."
Persephone grabbed the wireless headphones from her coat pocket activating them, and inserting them in her ears. "And they are welcome to him," she said stubbornly. "I am graciously bowing out of the competition." She made her way through the open floor plan home straight to the kitchen. She placed her phone on the island, grabbed bottled water from the refrigerator and began to satiate her thirst.
"Honey," Micaela started. "May I ask," there was a brief moment of silence. "You do like men, right?"
Persephone was so caught off-guard with the question, she accidentally choked on a bit of water that had just begun trickling down her throat while a mouthful was sprayed all over her chrome refrigerator, and some of it fell straight down onto her chest. The shock of the chill provoking a squirm and a cough.
"Oh, dear. Honey, raise your arms over your head, and try to breathe." Micaela suggested.
She did as was told but it would still take a few more minutes for the cough to go away. When there was finally silence on the connection, Micaela spoke first. "Let me rephrase that," she said as Persephone reached for a paper towel from the stand-up dispenser on her marble-white counter to wipe the mess. "The men you dated before didn't make you... switch teams, to put it delicately. "
Persephone flinched, she had no idea where this question was coming from. "I'm pretty sure it doesn't work that way Micaela," she said dryly. "The only thing the men I dated made me do was lose interest in dating altogether." She affirmed. "I've never been happier, and I don't mean to change that."
"Good!" Micaela stated at once.
The single word made Persephone frown. "Good?" She echoed.
Micaela continued. "There's a ceremony happening tomorrow night in my honor," seemingly without caring to hear if she would accept the invitation, Micaela rambled on. "Cocktail attire- starts at seven on the dot. Grab a pen and paper so I can give you the address." Without giving her much time, she began reading off an address.
Persephone tore off another paper towel from the dispenser and grabbed a pencil she had left in a drawer nearby. She stretched the rectangular shape jotting down the numbers and letters being thrown at her.
Micaela continued. "You'll probably have some shopping to do, get your nails done. I'll let you go before you have a chance to turn my offer down. See you tomorrow night. Goodbye, darling!"
With that Micaela Dawson's voice fell silent.
Persephone looked at her phone questioningly wondering what just happened?