It was the whoop of joy that sent a perplexed and curious Celia trotting down to the living room. Julia was in high spirts, maybe her son had proposed, maybe her daughter was finally pregnant.
But as Julia leapt around the room Celica heard the TV throb with the bombastic hum of the national lottery. She then saw the jackpot numbers flash on screen and spied the grubby ticket clenched in Julia’s fist.
“I won,” Julia laughed “I won, oh good god in heaven, I won the lottery.”
As a dazed Celia sat down, she realized she had known Julia for ten years, but she never saw her as a friend.
“Five million,” squealed Julia “five million sterling. Oh, oh!”
She fanned herself as she collapsed on the sofa before grabbing the remote to mute the TV.
“My boy and
girl might beg me for a little,” she explained as she gave one of her devilish
snorts “but they’re much too old to be clinging to me, and I’ll be sure to give
it all away to charity on my deathbed of course. Wouldn’t that serve my kids
right?”
She giggled, almost gleefully before noticing the politely smiling Celia.
“Well done,”
Celia stammered “you’ll be living the good life. A penthouse and a limo and all
that.”
And as was typical for Julia, she didn’t answer Celia’s question. Her face, hauntingly beautiful even at forty-five turned sadistic. Her eyes seem to shine as she gave her full attention to the mousey Celia.
“Celia darling,” she said, “remember when your little bug was keyed?”
Oh yes, this Wednesday would be was the two-year anniversary of Celia leaving the house to find that her trustworthy Volkswagen beetle had been battered to a wreck. A cinder block had been flung against the bonnet and a golf club had shattered all the windows. Celia had sunk to her knees, felt her jaw quiver and her eyes water.
It wasn’t that she loved her car, it was just the complete mystification that someone out there would be so needlessly malicious. She did no harm to anyone and yet the same unthinking cruelty inflicted upon her by school bullies, had returned in middle age, which was a point in her life she thought she wouldn’t have to deal with…
“It was me,” said Julia snapping Celia out from her melancholy thoughts.
“What?”
“I did it,”
replied Julia with an innocent expression that all but invited Celia to join
her in a good laugh “you were on autopilot, pure monotony so I decided to shake
up your routine. Worked didn’t it.”
And she laughed again at Celia’s goldfish expression, the poor girl was a baby at heart.
“Why?” Celia whimpered.
Julia now an aristocrat showed no shame. Just some justified air, that she was in the right and Celia the simpleton deserved what she got.
“There’s just something about you,” she said, “that really pisses me off.”
