soap && Uncle Henri
“I swear to god, Liz, if you slept with him I--I’ll leave you.”
“Shut up, you idiot, people will hear you!”
Esme rolled her eyes as the words filtered through her mind. The couple was sat two tables over from the one where she was currently waiting for Henri to join her. Their argument had gone from mildly entertaining to downright uncomfortable in a matter of minutes.·
“Henri, where are you?” Esme muttered under her breath, scanning the restaurant once again.·
It was a nice place, with real flowers in the vases and crisp linens on each table. She’d wanted to meet Henri somewhere decent, lest she give him the impression she liked to hang out in dives--but then, somewhere too expensive would have made her look like a lush.
God, she hated thinking about things so much.·
Henri may have only been her uncle, but she had always desperately wanted the man’s approval for some reason. It probably had something to do with her idealization of him--not that she ever acknowledged that’s what it was. A fondness--of course. A person to look up to--sure.·
Idealize? Nahh.
“Liz, so help me god, I want a divorce.”
Esme clenched her hand around the stem of her wine glass, cringing as her inner voice sang the mantra: ‘Henri, please hurry up’.
