VIRAGO

Chapter 2

Our opening day was memorable; specifically, as the occasion Lars and I had our first disagreement. I'd worked hard preparing the environment; given the place a celebratory vibe, breaking up the sterility with my selection of nutritionally dense canapes and de alcoholised fizz. Lars entered some hours later; pausing mid stride to scan the accoutrements. I allowed myself the beginnings of a smile, for this was one of my rare areas of competence. I had a thousand or more soirees under my belt; I was as close to confident as I ever could be. Totally off script, his brow creased.

'Why are these.... "trinkets" here?'

'Hardly trinkets Lars. People have expectations; we must welcome them in some way.'

'This isn't the message I'd hoped to convey to our guests'.

'We have to convey something; I've read their bios. An absence of literature on our services and the presence of any other attendees may prove too clandestine for some.'

My assurances seem to perplex him further. His eyes played ping pong between me and the tableware, without solution. A hint of petulance sullied his tone.

'You're demeaning our purpose'.

I bristled. Annoyed by his lack of comprehension and this lancing first blow, I drove my finger nails into one of the thickest parts of me, the flesh of my thumbs.

'Not in any way. I'm creating a space in which our guests can feel at ease; a place to air their aspirations, to fully consider all the options available to them. This; this is crucial. Would you not have us make the right impression?'

He turned his back to me, walked away without further comment, actions which sent my habitual people-pleasing neurons into overdrive, traitors that screamed, "I'm sorry!"

I threw all my courage into standing fast, refusing to indulge these talebearers. I'd spent too much of my life bending to other people's opinions and emotions; I'd done what was required, he'd see.

Twelve disciples sent words of acceptance. I sat quietly in his shadow observing, whilst Lars studied his initial selection. Any data of merit seemed to leap off the screen at him, whilst I found it hard to keep pace with which precise information raised his brows. The nuts and bolts of people's everyday life hovered beneath his fingertips, sensitivities laid bare. It had been a complex process; nothing as effortless as simply identifying motivations and financial capability, the select few would be required to embrace the opportunities offered to them with aplomb. He talked of algorithms; predictions which helped him whittle down the overwhelming amount of information to this, the hearts in his pot of preferential elect.

The names Lars banked during the exercise demonstrated a group of mixed gender and ages, a selection I found pleasing given my experiences as an awkward wannabe. I know with absolute certainty, how dissatisfaction with self sprouts in conception; mine harvested in every cell, grew into something atrocious, filling each of my fibre's to capacity; until now.

My atrocities are worthy mimics, I find it impossible to distinguish their dark mass from my own human anatomy. So throwing a lifeline to an eighteen year old on the list confirms what we are doing here to be nothing short of miraculous. How different the image in my rear view would have looked had I been blessed with early intervention, instead of the shards that compose me, the fractured paving from my decades of struggles.

During the dark chapters of my early life; for there have been many, a searchlight found me bidding farewell to my teens. Head surrounded by fluffy clouds, confidence bolstered by cheap champagne, he'd asked if I would and any reasons to decline had eluded me. He laughed off my failings so many times; even I began to question my own judgement. After all, if he could see these amazing qualities in me, was I really looking hard enough? It didn't take long for the rot to surface; finally, I was in a position to be able to say look; see? This is what I've been telling you all along. You can bury dog shit and disguise it with sweet smelling flowers but eventually, the stench of decay will out.