Tender Hearts

History Favors the Victors

Evie tried to get away, but her mother, coupled with the help of Chas' father, were too strong for her. She was pushed through the crowded restaurant and forced into the back seat of her mother's waiting limousine to be driven away before the scuffle was broken up. "Tom!" she tried to scream as she was taken, but he couldn't hear her above the melee, above his own rage.

"It's better this way, dear," Marianne said once they were in the car, as though her own voice should provide comfort. "That man is below you. Don't drag yourself down."

Evie felt like slapping her. Turning her wrath upon Marianne, she raged, "He's not below me at all. Tom was there for me when no one else was. Not even you."

"There is no out," her mother replied calmly. "Have another drink, it will calm you." She nudged a champagne glass at Evie's elbow.

Nearly toppling the glass, Evie raised her hands and began beating on the partition between the two of them and the driver. "Let me out!" she screamed. "Stop this car!"

"Tsk," Marianne scolded. "Chas is your equal - he's got the social standings, he's in his father's firm, now, he's even on track to make partner within the next five years." She forced Evie back from the partition and held up the champagne glass. "Now, drink, Dear."

"Nepotism," Evie argued as she sat back hard against the upholstered seat, "That's all it is. Chas is an asshole. He cheated on me, he abused me and..." her eyes began to well up, "You're my mother and you're defending HIM!" She grabbed the half-spilled glass of champagne and gulped it down. "There, are you happy?"

"Ecstatic." 

It was the droll way she responded that made Evie suspicious. A feeling of being askew cemented it. She felt like everything was just slightly off, like she was Alice and this was the coach of the Queen of Hearts. Her mind floated in a hazy world where Chas transformed into a violent version of the Mad Hatter and Tom, her knight in shining armor, had been thrown in the dungeon. There was no one to save her as the grim realization that her mother had slipped something in her drink fell over her. "What did you do?" she slurred as her head lolled on the seat back towards her mother.

Marianne tried to play innocent. "It's just a mild sedative," she said curtly. "You were so worked up."

"Wha...?" The drug took effect as Evie's voice trailed off, her world going dark and silent as she fell down the rabbit hole into interminable blackness .

Once she woke, her head was pounding. The effects of the drug were slow to wear off and hit Evie worse than an awful hangover. At first, she forgot where she was. In her sedated state, her mind was blank and her eyes could only stare at the white painted ceiling, their inability to focus taking shape as shapes and colors concocted by her mind. She thought she was in her room at the hotel, that everything was a dream, that she was there and had yet to see her mother, that Tom was alright, that her mind had just created this fantastical tale, but, as she was able to move and look around the room, she realized it was all real. Instead of the generic walls and complacent artwork that graced her own residence, she saw the expertly designed and executed decorative mastery that belonged to only one person- her mother. 

Marianne had made it a point to create her own home, a penthouse atop the most exclusive Miami high rise, a perfect reflection of her own self-absorption. Everything was brightly colored set against a neutral beige landscape, all tropical and citrus, each room decorated with her own flair. In the room Evie found herself in, that flair manifested as a marble statue in the corner fashioned to look like Aphrodite emerging from the half-shell, except instead of the Goddess' iconic face, it was Marianne's at the youthful age of eighteen that had been carved there. That was the running theme of the penthouse. Her mother's tribute to herself - incorporation into classic art.