6 - Unlikely Friends
1531 Words
When the morning comes, I stretch out like a cat before dragging myself from the bed and heading for the shower. Of course it’s more luxurious than my entire apartment, and probably bigger too. There’s six knobs and sprayers on all sides of the walls, as well as a large touch screen controller mounted amongst the tile.
After being assaulted by multiple jets, I’m finally able to set the shower to a comfortable pressure and temperature, using the products I brought with me, to shampoo my hair.
I did my makeup, applied some curl cream to my damp hair and threw on black leggings and a black knit sweater. I slipped on my boots and gave myself a final look over. Satisfied with my appearance, I headed out to the kitchen in hopes I’d find food and coffee.
“Oh. Hey Ivan! Good morning.” I greeting the buff man standing near the front door.
“Good morning Miss Sophie. Are you ready to be leaving?” He asked.
“Oh, well my hair is still drying,” I pointed to my dark loose curls. “So I was gunna eat and get coffee before leaving.”
Ivan nodded and left the house without another word.
“Umm..okay. Bye?” I said to myself.
I walked over to the fridge and to my delight, was greeted by a fully stocked, array of foods inside.
My eyes darted around from the eggs and various fresh veggies completely overwhelmed with the possibilities I could make!
But before I could even reach inside, the front door opened and shut again.
“This is Mrs. Pritchett.” Ivan announced. “She will cook.”
“Oh.. that’s okay Ivan. I can-“
“She will cook. Is her job.” Ivan repeated.
“Oh..okay.” I relented, and took my seat at the large island in the kitchen.
Mrs. Pritchett was an old weathered woman, she didn’t speak other than to ask if I had any allergies, but she was quick as lightening when cooking.
In no time, I had a buffet of foods before me, from omelettes and toast to fruit bowls and coffee.
“This is amazing Mrs. Pritchett oh my god!” I exclaimed, taking another mouthful of eggs and potatoes.
The old woman smiled proudly, mumbled something to Ivan and took her leave.
“Come Ivan, sit and eat!” I invited.
“No Miss Sophie. That is food for you.” He said.
“But..so You’re guna make me eat alone?” I pouted. “Please eat? She made so much food.. unless you’ve eaten already.”
“No I have not but-“
“Pleeeeease?” I begged. Pushing out my bottom lip and blinking long hard puppy dog eye blinks.
Ivan smirked and rolled his eyes.
“That is no fair Miss Sophie.” He complained. But he took a seat across from me and hesitantly took a small amount of food onto a plate for himself.
“Spa-seebuh.” I thanked him using my new Russian word.
Ivan stifled a smile at my attempt at Russian.
“Nyet spaceebuh. You cheated.” Ivan huffed.
“Cry baby.” I muttered, and continued to finish my meal.
-
Around 9:15am, I ventured to the living room and saw a bag hanging from a display rack.
“What’s this?”
“Is dress for you.” Ivan tells me. “Boss picked it.”
I unzipped the garment bag, and audibly gasped at the dress inside. It was a stunning red floor length gown with a high slit above the thigh.
“Oh my god this is so beau-!” I started to say, but turning the gown over, I noticed the back of the dress was extremely low cut. I immediately placed in back in the bag.
“I..I can’t wear this..” I say mostly to myself, but Ivan hears.
“What is problem?”
“The back is…I just can’t. Ivan..” I turn around, and with pleading eyes ask, “Please take me to find a different one.”
“But the boss-“
“Please?” I bring back the big eyes and quivered lips, but this time it’s more than just a little joke. I really desperately need a different dress. One with a higher cut back, because I refuse to flaunt my biggest insecurities to a world of people who hunt for any ounce of weakness.
“Alright, Miss Sophie. Alright.” Ivan surrenders.
-
Since finding the dress that Aleksandr had purchased for me, I had become more quiet and withdrawn. I could only think of how upset he would be that I would fail at following the first ever task he would give me. I was worried he might mistake my decision as an insult or disrespect, but I couldn’t wear that dress, I just couldn’t.
“Are you okay, Miss Sophia?” Andre asks as we walk out of the third dress shop, unsuccessful.
“I’m fine.” I lie. Looking down at the pavement in defeat.
Every garment is either too low, too short, or way too expensive.
The tag on the red gown said $9,000. I thought I could find a replacement dress and have that one returned.
I stood with Andre on the curb while Ivan left to get the car.
“Miss Sophia?” Andre sounds.
“Hmm?” I answer without even looking up.
“Would you prefer..to wait with Ivan next time..and I’ll fetch the car?” He asks. His question throws me off.
My brows furrow and I wonder, “No? It doesn’t really matter to me.. why?”
“I think maybe you are more comfortable with Ivan.. he says you were so happy and talkative this morning. But now you are silent.”
I look up at Andre, who’s by my side, but looking straight ahead into the street, and not at me.
“I’m sorry if… if I make you uncomfortable Miss Sophia.” Andre says lowly.
“What? That’s not it at all!” I promise him. “Why would you think that Andre?”
Still without looking at me, he sighs and admits, “My face.. I know how people see me. Usually I do not care, but I do not want for you to be afraid…I don’t blame you if I frighten you..I just wanted to apologize.”
His head hangs a bit low, and I have to look around to make sure he is really talking to me and this isn’t a joke.
“Andre are you being serious right now? What the hell is wrong with your face?” I ask with a hint of anger in my tone. How could he possibly be serious right now?
Finally, he looks my way. “My scars. They are a lot..you cannot pretend not to see.”
I huff out a little laugh, which catches Andres interest, making him raise a brow at me.
“I’m sorry, it’s just I thought you were being funny Andre.” I giggle.
“Why?”
“Andre.. your face is crazy handsome! You’re literally every woman’s dream. A strong sharp jawline, thick full brows, and gorgeous dark eyes. Believe it or not, the scars across your cheek, chin and temple make you look even hotter.” I tell him matter of factly.
Andre’s cheeks burn red, but he seems to be still confused and unconvinced.
“Look, I’ve never met a woman who doesn’t love a few good scars. I don’t know why they’re so attractive..they just are.” I shrug. “Besides..I’m the last person who would ever judge you, or anyone else, for the scars on your body.”
“Your skin is clear..” He observes with more confusion.
I wrap my arms around myself on instinct.
“The skin that you can see is..” I whisper.
The absolute shame I saw in his face when he told me he understood if I was afraid of him because of his scars moved me to share something personal with him.
“I..I have scars on my back..” I admit. “From an abusive foster home..when I was young.”
My claims of scars being sexy and attractive are true, but only in regards to men. They show a man’s strength, resilience and toughness, all desirable traits.
For women it’s different. A scarred women is a broken woman. A victim. A survivor at best.
..I just wanted Andre to know that I would never look down upon him for the marks of survival on his body.
“That is why you want different dress..?” he guesses.
“Please don’t tell anyone, okay?” I plead. My eyes once more stuck to the pavement. More than the scars on my back, I hate being pitied and looked down upon.
Andre grips my chin with his finger and gently pulls my face until our eyes meet.
“I promise little one.” He winks.
I smile my thanks, and just then Ivan pulls up beside us with the car. Andre opens my door and guides me inside.
- Writer
