The Consolation Prize

“Are you nervous, Monica?” Monique asked, as she placed the glass of wine on the wooden desk. Monica sat perfectly on the red plush couch, her legs crossed while they shimmered against the chandelier’s lights as she sipped on her white wine. Her brown hair was in a chignon, wisps of hair invisible while her face had no pimple bursting on her face. She wore a bright red lipstick. She looked so beautiful in Monique’s eyes. Monica was her identical twin and she was everything Monique was not. She had frizzy brown hair that did not glow against the light. She was wearing a ponytail but there were still strands of hair floating on her face. Her red lipstick was a little bit sloppy, smudging at the edges of her lips. She bested her face with a concealer to hide the large pimple forming just underneath her lower lip. It looked hideous and even if Monica did not comment on that, she felt uglier than her sister. “Why should I be nervous?” Monica chuckled, as she took another sip of her wine. “I’m a little excited getting married to the man I love.” There was a bright glow in her eyes as she said that. She wore a skimpy short white dress that fell above her knees perfectly as if every curve of the clothing was made for her body. “You should really get yourself a boyfriend.” Monique demurely smiled at her twin sister. Monica was so perfect. She was kind-hearted, beautiful and intelligent. She was the heir to the company their parents created, and she already proved that she could be the candidate for the CEO of the Jones Law Firm. Monique was promised to be the Vice CEO and she was already fine with that. She got used to being the second best after all. Her cheeks hued into a pink. “I’m not looking for one… yet,” she answered shyly, the band of her ponytail snapped into two, her dry hair flowing just past her shoulders. Monica cheekily grinned at her when Monique made all attempts to tie her hair together. “You should let your hair down more, Monique. You look beautiful, okay?” Monica genuinely complimented and Monique’s heart was filled with happiness, like fireworks bloating inside her chest. She loved the way her sister would say things but she doubted if she only said those just to make her feel better. “I mean it,” she added. “It’s hot in here,” Monique insisted and tried to stand up but she tripped on her heels. She felt pain surging on her knees as her face fell flat on the red carpet of the hotel room. A humoured chuckle echoed in the room. Monica assisted her, lifting her arms. She was still staggering on her feet, smoothing out the white jumpsuit hugging her body. “You’re such a klutz, Monique,” Monica teased, pinching her sister’s nose. “You’ll always be my little sister.” Monique scrunched her nose. “You’re only older than me for a minute and fifty-two seconds!” she argued but a playful smile was fighting on her lips. “And you can’t pull off that joke when I was your age,” she huffed, crossing her arms across her chest. “Come on, you can’t blame me for being your big sister,” she teased again but Monique only glared playfully at her. “You should go out and get some drinks.” “What about you?” She didn’t want to go to the bar alone. She was sure she couldn’t make out a conversation with anyone. If Monica would be there with her, she would feel safe. She wouldn’t even bother talking to Monica’s newfound friends. “I want to rest,” Monica smiled serenely. “I still have a big day tomorrow.” “If you insist,” Monique drawled the words slowly, a pleading smile curving her lips. It would be Monica’s last day of being single before she would tie the knot to the man she was with for ten years. They had been high school sweethearts. Oliver Waite was every girl’s dreams. So when Monica brought him home to their parents, Monique knew it was an endgame for her. She used to have a little crush on him when she would watch him compete in quiz bowls or the sport he was in—lawn tennis, the determination strongly set in his green eyes. Monica and Oliver were lucky to have each other. They were the ‘it’ couple in their high school. While Monica and Monique took law together, Oliver was on his way of becoming a business tycoon. He was a technology geek. He used to modify Monica’s cell that it would be identical to his just so that they could have a special connection with each other. “Good luck for your big day, sis,” Monique said as she wrapped her arms around Monica. Her heart was breaking a little because they wouldn’t go and do things together. Even if Monica and Oliver were together, Monica always gave time so they could hang out with each other. But being married was different with still being in a relationship. They would even hold pranks in their classes sometimes when they didn’t share the same classes in college. Those were memorable days. “Thank you, Monique.” “You’ll be the most beautiful woman tomorrow. And Oliver will cry as you walk down the aisle,” she said, her chest tightening. Monica would have babies and Monique would probably be left alone, watching television series in her condominium unit. She was the only best friend she had and her support. She had always clung to her and had become dependent to almost everything. And Oliver whisking her away, she would be alone and that was what scared her. “Nonsense,” Monica waved off playfully, “you look like me so we’ll be the most beautiful women tomorrow.” A blush spread across Monique’s cheeks. They embraced each other one last time and Monique felt the rush of air conditioner nipping her skin. It was cold as she balanced herself on her heels. She was still trying to get used to the heels Monica forced her to wear. She decided not to go to the bar. It would be pointless and Monique wasn’t a big fan for small talks. She hated being asked with how she was and where she lived. It might be a conversation starter but she wanted to talk about the universe and Game of Thrones, of how George R. R. Martin wrote a brilliant series, of how he was able to create character developments into a lot of characters, of how Sir Arthur Conan Doyle made Sherlock the way he was. She liked talking about philosophy and religion. She slowly took a step forward and took another until she fell to her knees. Her cheeks warmed to a bright crimson when she felt someone staring at her. She felt someone’s presence towering over her and when she looked up, she sheepishly smiled. He had bright blue eyes and dirty slick blonde hair that was neatly gelled, a dimple marring his cheek for his lips had turned up into a grin. His hand was stuck out, clearly offering a hand to help her up. She timidly accepted his help, his palm warm against her cold and shaky one. Embarrassment tugged at her heartstrings. “I’m such a klutz, am I not?” she asked as she let out an awkward laugh. “Is it your first time wearing those heels?” the gentleman asked instead of giving a reply, a smile still tattooed on his mouth. Monique nodded in shame. “I’m not a big fan,” she answered. “My sister Monica is.” “Isn’t she the bride-to-be? I’ve met her before. Your sister was lovely.” There was mirth in his blue eyes. Monique concluded this man certainly had a crush on her twin sister. Even Monica and Monique looked alike, people could vastly distinguish the two of them. Their personalities were at different spectrums. Whenever they walked together in a public place, Monique noticed people’s stares were always on Monica. She was confident on her skin, strutting like the world did owe her a favour. While she, on the other hand, walked sloppily as if she never learned how to walk before. “She is.” Monique smiled. “My twin sister is a star.” “I’m Nathaniel Moore,” the man introduced himself, even if Monique did not ask any question. It was rather impolite of him to start a conversation without even telling his name. “I’m the best man of their wedding.” Monique smiled. “That’s nice. I’m Monique Jones.” “So Monique, can I buy you a drink?” Nathaniel offered, his blue eyes glimmered in hope. He was handsome with his sharp set of jaw. He had a crooked nose probably because he had an accident, Monique deduced, and his thick eyebrows complemented his round blue eyes. “Uh, earth to Monique?” A blush rapidly spread across her cheeks once she realized she was blatantly checking him out. “Sure, it’ll be a pleasure,” she answered, crossing her fingers and hoping small talks wouldn’t be their activity for such a long night. * Monique did not get bored in the least bit of their conversation with Nathaniel. She was expecting leaving sooner than intended, but Nathaniel was quite a great conversational partner. No, he was the best conversational partner next to Monica. Sure there were small talks but it only consisted one-fourth of what they were talking. “Who is your favourite character in Game of Thrones?” Nathaniel asked. His eyes were glowing against the dimmed lighting of the bar. Monique was a little bit tipsy so she stopped drinking. Nathaniel stopped too but they were still sat on the bar stools, giggling at each other. “Oh wait, don’t. They will probably get killed.” Monique laughed heartily. “Ygritte is my favourite character in all honesty,” she replied. “Too bad she died. I wasn’t sure if I should be mad at Olly or if I should be glad he killed her. Either way, Jon Snow would end up getting hurt.” “You know nothing, Monique Jones,” Nathaniel said, mimicking Ygritte’s famous line. Monique guffawed again. She never felt this happy, extremely happy where your stomach could just burst like a balloon. Nathaniel sure knew how to worm a way to her heart. Or maybe to any woman he had encountered in his life. “I’m not Jon Snow,” Monique countered in faux annoyance but there was a smile lingering on her lips. “Who is your favourite character anyway?” “It’ll be Daenerys. But she has her dumb blonde moments,” Nathaniel answered. “Her character development is everything, though.” “I wish I could be like Daenerys,” Monique admitted. “Daenerys was afraid of voicing out her opinions but as she became the Khaleesi, she was stronger and wiser.” “She has wise advisers surrounding her which helped her become who she is right now,” Nathaniel said. “Do you want to go out for a walk?” The bar seemed to be dissipating with customers and they weren’t drinking anymore so Monique nodded and let Nathaniel lead her for them to walk somewhere. The winter air greeted them as they walked outside of the hotel. Monique shivered. The thin jumpsuit did not help her cover her skin. She felt something warm was draped around her shoulders. She smiled gratefully at Nathaniel who seemed unfazed by the cold weather. “Thank you Nathaniel,” she whispered gratefully, her voice the sound of the soft touch of the wind. She held his coat around her shoulders tightly as they took steps forward to a place they were still going to discover. “You look cold, and I’m not cold so it’s logical to say you need my coat more than I do,” Nathaniel answered, a kind smile gracing his lips. Monique felt touched with his statement. They barely knew each other but it was good to have someone who would look after you. Monica always helped Monique through her rough times. When she was dumped by her first boyfriend because she was a prude, Monica helped Monique pick up the pieces. He did not deserve her tears but still, it hurt a lot. She trusted him and all he did was shatter her last shred of confidence. “What’s your relation to the groom?” she asked Nathaniel. They leisurely walked now along the sidewalk, the streetlights becoming a blurry circle around them. “I’m Oliver’s cousin,” Nathaniel answered. Monique held a surprised reaction. Her brown eyes widened at his answer. Nathaniel and Oliver vastly looked different. Oliver had a smaller jaw compared to Nathaniel. He had green eyes and brown hair while Nathaniel looked like a Ken doll. Nathaniel laughed humorously after he saw Monique’s priceless reaction. “I knew you’d be surprised with the connection but you’ll get the hang of it,” Nathaniel said. Monique blushed in embarrassment, her arms hugging her frame. “Don’t be embarrassed about it. Everyone wonders why we’re really related.” “A lot of people still wonder why Monica and I are related no matter how much we looked alike,” she said, letting out a sardonic chuckle. Nathaniel gave her an incredulous look and Monique mirrored his expression. “Why? It’s true,” she added, shrugging her shoulders as if it was nothing. She got used to people comparing the two of them, dissecting every difference they had. At first, it was a good thing since Monique liked people see them as two different people. But the only thing that they noticed on her were the bad things whilst Monica was always given the glory. Whenever Monique was shining, Monica always had a way to outshine her. “You’re making it like it’s a bad thing to be Monica’s twin,” Nathaniel replied, concerned etched on his features. Monique held herself differently. It was a breath of fresh for him because whenever Oliver had Monica over, Nathaniel and Monica always argued over something they didn’t agree on. It was such a surprise that he was going along with someone who looked so identical with Oliver’s fiancée and who had extremely a very different personality than Monica. “I’m not,” she defended. “It’s just people kept making me look bad as if I’m an abomination.” “If you weren’t alive in the first place, would Monica be the person she was today?” Nathaniel had a point. But sometimes, she wished she never existed. What was the point of being born if all of us were just going to die? And besides, Monica didn’t need her anyway. If anything, Monique owed her life to Monica. She remembered during her middle school they both were on the swim team. It was a regular practise day, and as Monique paddled her feet on the water, she couldn’t feel her leg. All it ever did was buzz. She couldn’t even control it and even if she tried, it got worse. She would’ve drowned if it wasn’t for Monica who dived into the water and helped her swim into the gutter. That was how much she owed her life to Monica. Monique yawned. She suddenly felt her eyelids drooping and her muscles around her body starting to get strained. She felt her legs giving up on her. She tripped on her footing but Nathaniel was able to steady her shoulders. “You should get some sleep,” she heard Nathaniel murmur on her ear and everything slurred into blackness.