Killing Me Softly

Chapter 3

It felt nice when Ingrid didn't feel awkward sharing tales from her very different life - a life that could have been.

Just because she couldn't stand to be around the blindly privileged, didn't mean Zara wasn't occasionally curious. It fed her ego in ways she was not ready to admit. But inspite of Ingrid's efforts to invite Zara to social events whenever she could, Zara declined. Her reasoning was valid-

"I can't afford to miss a shift."

"I have too many errands to on my day off."

"I'm just had an episode and am now incapacitated."

The truth was, however, that Zara preferred not to participate especially since the pitiful looks or unsolicited advice felt worse than scrubbing toilets or being manhandled at her other jobs.

Too distracted by the animated storytelling of Ingrid, Zara didn't realize where they had been driving to. It was only when looking past Ingrid, out the window to her left did she clock the unmistakable illuminated white dome of the bank. That bank.

Ingrid paused mid story, and followed her eye-line,

"Oh shit. Shit. I'm sorry I didn't realize it's just so many events happen here, I didn't even realize it was right across from..."

"It's okay," Zara felt her joints stiffen on the initial sighting.

"No, no- let's go home. We're already so late...this is a colossal fuck up...I swear I'm just stupid and careless and didn't plan this like some psycho-sadist-" Ingrid began faffing, wringing her hands.

Zara had consciously avoided Union Square for as long as she could, that she was almost underwhelmed by being right there and feeling nothing. It was just a building. There was a subdued glee in knowing she wasn't seizing at the sight of it. It was time for her to take that in stride as a win, and support her friend on an important venture.

"Ing, it's fine. We're here. And I'm not convulsing. Let's just go in and have you and Vito dazzle your future investors into making it rain."

Before Ingrid could contest further, Zara stepped out of the cab, and adjusted the hem of her calf-length evening dress. She was dressed nicely in slightly figure hugging black fabric, but relatively sober to those pulling out of their town cars. Ingrid too, was dressed to impress in her own way, but she always was eclectic like that. She looked like a ball of sunshine straight from the catalogue of heaven in her gold sequins and curly blonde updo.

"You said it was mostly going to be networking with some alumni..."

She wished she could say she was unfazed, but these people were so not the Mark Zuckerberg, hoodie and jeans wearing type of tech wealth. And as defiantly anti-capitalistic as she was, it wasn't what the Joneses were wearing, it was who the actual Joneses were that phased her.

Adjusting her own outfit, Ingrid shrugged, "Yeah I did?"

Ingrid finally stepped out behind Zara, then clocked the notable faces in their extravagant evening wear sweeping past the arched entrances of the museum,

"Oh...Oh..."

Both the girls all but audibly gulped. This wasn't just some small, private event at the museum. There was a mass of armed private security standing by the doormen, systemically siphoning guests inside after checking the contents of all purses and coat pockets.

When they finally breached the threshold of the Grand Museum, Zara wished she could just slip back out and into a cab. This was unnecessary for her. She wasn't groomed to crave this life anymore, if anything, it agitated her.