Everyone around me stopped talking for a moment, and then laughter ensued.
‘I forgot how funny you were!’ Hannah commented, and a few of the others nodded in agreement. I was about to point out that that was in no way meant to be humorous, but left it. Humour, I’ve learned, is an incredibly subjective thing. And I’m still at a loss about the sheer amount of mirth that people seem to derive from the things I say. I’ve noticed that my statements seem to elicit two types of laughter from people. The first comes out fast and loud and involves the entire body. But the second one comes out slowly, tentatively, usually after a very long awkward pause. This laughter wasnotthe latter.
‘Beauteous?’ Andrew whispered in my ear as we walked around the room greeting more people. There were people everywhere!
‘It’s a perfectly good synonym forstunning.’
‘That hasn’t been used in common conversation for over two hundred years.’
‘They’d used the wordstunningtoo often.’
‘I agree with that. Butprettyornicewould probably have sufficed just as well.’
‘Pippa!’ A voice interrupted us, followed by two faces I did not recognize.
‘Hi, I’m Andrew.’ Andrew stuck his hand out and intercepted the woman before she was able to launch herself at me and pull me into another one of those death-clutch hugs that everyone seemed to be dishing out tonight.
‘It’s me. Meg. Do you remember?’ She placed her hand on her chest and looked at me. I got the feeling that if Ididn’tremember her, she would be deeply, deeply upset, and then I would be pulled into a long conversation where she would go about telling me how we knew each other, what classes we’d taken together, what extra murals, borrowed pens, et cetera. I knew I needed to feign enthusiasm.
‘MEG!’ I exclaimed. Too loudly. Too, too loudly. I knew this because everyone nearby swung around and stared at me. God, I was so bad at this. I was either too big, or too small. Too soft, or too loud. Why couldn’t things come out of my mouth naturally, with the right tone and volume? Constantly moderating my words and their delivery was exhausting. I coughed. Beat my chest a few times and then tried to readjust my volume.
‘Meg. Of course. So delighted to see you. Thrilled and ecstatic. How are you?’ I asked, tilting my head to the side and widening my eyes in what I hoped looked like genuine interest. (At the same time also reminding myself to stop adding so many synonyms to my sentences.)
‘Wow. You look stunning, Pippa. Stunning!’ she said, and Andrew grinned at me.
‘You look very pretty too, Meg,’ I said awkwardly, even though I didn’t much like what she was wearing at all, but it was never polite to point this out.
And then she turned her attention to Andrew.
‘Andrew.’ He held his hand out and she immediately grabbed it. She seemed to shake it for several seconds too long, and then suddenly, with an almost inaudible apology, let go of it. And that’s when it dawned on me. Andrew was, by far, the most attractive man in this room, and that’s why everyone was looking at him like that. Holding his hand and his gaze for too long. Meg cleared her throat and stepped away from him.
‘Sorry! This is Christopher. My fiancé.Christopher.’ Christopher gave her a displeased look, and I wondered if he’d notice the two-seconds-too-long hand hold. ‘And you two? Engaged? Married?’ she asked me.
‘We’re—’ I started. But she clearly wasn’t interested in my answer, because she cut me off by thrusting her hand in our faces. It was such an unexpected gesture that I jumped back in fright and almost fell backwards.
‘Christopher and I just got engaged!’ Her voice was high-pitched. Almost too high-pitched for human ears, and I was sure I heard the distant howl of a dog responding.
‘Congrat—’
She cut me off again.
‘It was soooo romantic. He took me to our favorite restaurant and, at the end of the meal, all the staff walked towards the table, and one of them was holding a silver cloche, and then Christopher got down on one knee, right then and there in front of the whole restaurant, and proposed. I swear, when the waiter opened the cloche my heart almost missed a beat. I mean . . . Look at it . . .’
She looked down at her ring and we all followed suit.
‘Princess cut. Three carats.’
I nodded. I had zero idea what a three-carat ring versus a one-carat one was all about. Obviously, the three-carat was superior, but I had no idea what criteria that was based on. Nor did I know what a princess cut was. I should google it. But not now.
‘It’s stunning,’ Andrew said, and then gave me the tiniest nudge, as if trying to convey that we were now sharing some kind of private joke. Which, I guess, we were.
‘Very . . .’ I paused. The stone was way too bright for my liking. And when she turned her hand the lights caught its sharp facets and sent what felt like laser beams directly into my eyes. ‘Luminous,’ I managed.
And so it went on like this. The next couple we met were Yanilla and Marcus. She was pregnant, and they’d just had their gender-reveal party, where one hundred helium balloons had been released into the air from a skyscraper in Sandton. I was about to open my mouth and remind her of the deadly and devastating consequences balloons had on wildlife, but I didn’t. Instead I asked the more appropriate question.
‘So what color were the balloons?’
‘Pink,’ she said, clutching on to Marcus even tighter.
