Arriving back at the apartment, Sheila hurled her keys across the room and threw herself down on the couch.
"Damn you Estelle!" she yelled out loud, pounding her fists on the pillows. It was at that point she questioned the sanity of sharing an apartment with an old friend that she hadn't seen since their high school days.
A simple night out at the movies had turned into a disastrous date-for-three with Estelle using every opportunity to make romantic inroads with Jean-Paul. If she wasn't giggling and playing touchy-feely, she was feeding him popcorn kernels with her teeth and tongue, and Jean-Paul didn't seem to care about their exchange of saliva. At one point Sheila became so desperate to be acknowledged that she feigned choking on a kernel hoping that he would come to her rescue, only to have the Heimlich manoeuvre performed on her by Rhoda. Unfortunately, Rhoda's expertise with life saving techniques was limited to a "How to Save Your Pets in Emergency Situations" book. Her ribs throbbing with pain from the attempt, Sheila feigned a head ache and left with neither Jean-Paul nor Estelle even noting her departure.
"You…you… bitch!" Sheila screamed tossing the pillow on to the floor and stamping on it in frustration. "Why did I ever trust you?"
She couldn't remember the exact moment she realized that she was developing real feelings for the charmer from France. It had been a long time since she had felt any emotion other than contempt and anger toward males in general thanks to, Hal. Here she was, a middle-aged woman experiencing emotions similar to those she felt towards Michael Pickering in Junior high, a mixture of excitement and fear. It was images of Hal sitting in his arm chair, watching TV that quickly brought her back to reality and in control again.
"He doesn't owe me anything," she said to herself, fixing the pillows. "We hardly know each other and anyway, he's free to date anyone he wants. I'm going take a bath and wash away the bad memories."
Searching through Estelle's wine rack, she had picked out the expensive bottle that Estelle had raved about and was saving for a special occasion.
"This is a special occasion, Estelle!"
Relaxing in the bath, she recalled Michael Pickering and their stolen kisses in back of the school at lunch hour.
Sheila allowed the jets to caress her body while intermittently sipping wine.
"Good taste in wine, Estelle!" she said hoisting the glass up in the air in an invisible toast. "To my health!"
"You were some kisser, Michael Pickering!" she laughed out loud, thinking about her first love and their past. "Too bad we didn't meet later in life when we could have explored our relationship further."
The effect of the hot water combined with the stress caused her to doze off and consciousness slowly returned with the sound of laughter coming from the other room.
"You're too much!" Estelle was giggling. "Oh you're bad alright!"
As if the movie experience wasn't humiliation enough, Estelle was extending her night out with Jean-Paul right in front of her eyes and ears.
"I find cream is so versatile," Estelle went on, "and yummy."
Enough was enough. Sheila quickly towelled off, wrapped it around her and ran out into the living room.
"You have got some nerve Estelle!" Sheila blurted out. "First you interrupt my date with Jean-Paul and now you flaunt your victory right in front of my eyes! A leopard never changes its spots. You were the same in high school."
Estelle stared at Sheila, her eyes wide open. There was silence between them for a minute, the two of them staring at each other.
"Well? Say something! Are you denying it?" Sheila demanded
"I-I don't know what to say," Estelle stammered.
It was at that point that Sheila noticed the image on the television.
'I'll take Lance as my partner for the evening," the blonde on the screen exclaimed excitedly. "He's got everything I want and need. Thank you "Late Date!' the blond laughed, holding hands with a well built male as the image faded from the screen.
"Oh my… I mean, Jean-Paul didn't come home with you?" Sheila managed to get out, realizing that she had made an error in judgement.
"Do you see him here," Estelle asked, "although I have to admit it wasn't for lack of trying. The man for whatever reason couldn't be convinced to come back for a night cap. He's not usually like that."
"Well how was I to know? I mean, at the movie you two were very hot and heavy exchanging saliva. We were on a date, Estelle, and you and Rhoda horned in on us."
"Oh please! We're old friends, Jean-Paul and me," Estelle shot back defensively.
"Obviously more than good friends," Sheila responded.
"Anyway, it wasn't as if he wasn't enjoying himself or anything," Estelle said.
"Did he have a choice? You were all over him," Sheila retorted.
"I'm just a friendly person. You're reading more into it than it was," Estelle went on. "I'm tired and going to bed. Did you forget we're supposed to meet Jean-Paul for breakfast at his bakery?"
"Know what? Perhaps we better discuss the parameters of this arrangement," Sheila said, trying to keep the soaking towel wrapped around her.
"See…that's the difference between you and me. I would have dropped that towel if I thought Jean-Paul was here but you wrapped it around you like a body bag," Estelle commented while studying Sheila fumbling with the towel.
"Obviously, this arrangement isn't working the way it should," Sheila said, storming out of the room.
"Obviously," Estelle said, watching her leave. "You snooze – you lose girl!" Estelle commented.
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