6. Is This What Friends Are Like?
“Welcome, Bianca, Estelle, Selene. I am so happy to be hosting my very first friends.”
“Thank you for inviting us today, Sheryl.”
“We were so looking forward to this. Let’s talk about everything!”
“Me too… Um, here, this is a small gift.”
A month had passed since the day of the party. It was difficult for the four of us to coordinate by letter, and I didn’t have quite enough time to keep up a frequent correspondence with all three of them.
At my stepmother’s suggestion—and because I wanted to as well—I had been spending my time on my studies and cultural lessons. I also wanted to read before bed, so when I took all that into account and asked Okaasama if I could invite my friends over, she had readily agreed, “Of course, you may,” which led to today.
However, today I was once again wearing the frumpy makeup. “Okaasama said, ‘They would be so surprised if your face suddenly changed,’ and I found myself nodding in agreement, thinking, ‘Oh, I suppose that’s how it is.'”
Thankfully, my eyebrows weren’t drawn on as thick as caterpillars like they were that day, but the freckles and brown lipstick were still present. A part of me felt it would be fine for these three to see my real, unattractive face, but then I reconsidered. My appearance had been at its absolute frumpiest that first day, so what did a few freckles or a lack of color on my lips matter now?
These were girls who wouldn’t judge me by my looks. Knowing that, I was able to greet them with a sense of ease, even in my frumpy makeup.
My hair was styled in a half-updo with braids, the ends curled, and I wore a pale green one-piece dress with white accents. Okaasama had a particular eye for hair and clothes, and she always chose things that I felt made me look at least a little bit better.
Bianca, Estelle, and Selene each had their own personalities: Bianca was spirited, Estelle was a bit precocious, and Selene was shy. But once we started chatting, those differences didn’t seem to matter much.
I led the three of them to the small salon that had been prepared for us. To combat the summer heat, the windows were thrown open to let in the breeze, but the room was kept cool and dim by the tall garden trees that blocked the direct sunlight. It had been Okaasama’s recommendation, and the room truly was refreshingly cool.
Outside was a herb garden, and a pleasant fragrance drifted in with every breeze. The interior, too, had been redecorated at some point; it was furnished with lovely, dollhouse-like pieces of light-colored wood with pastel patterns.
Bianca and the others were delighted with the salon. I, too, had thrown my arms around Okaasama in joy when she first told me, “You may use this room.”
Okaasama truly does treasure me. How wonderful it would have been if I were pretty as well. I had resolved not to bring it up, but our conversation, which started with the party, soon turned to, “Were there any handsome boys there?” and from there, it inevitably turned to me.
“Sheryl, you’re just so pretty,” Bianca said, taking me completely by surprise. “Your features are on a completely different level. The makeup is a bit unfortunate, but just not having those eyebrows makes a world of difference.”
There was no way I could be pretty, but she seemed to be genuinely complimenting me, and it would be rude to deny it.
Estelle and Selene were both nodding in agreement.
Perhaps this was just something female friends did—compliment each other’s appearances. It was true that no one dislikes being complimented. I was always happy when Okaasama praised me for various things.
But for some reason, when my looks were praised, I felt my heart creak and groan. It felt as if they were saying something terribly wrong, yet it would be rude to refute it.
Drawing on every bit of etiquette I had ever learned, I accepted their compliments with a smiling, “Thank you,” and then praised the three of them twice as much in return.
After that, the conversation drifted back to idle chatter, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I’m sorry, my friends. I’m not pretty.
And then, I found myself thinking of the other friend I had made that day… Lord Hugues.
Bianca and the others were pretty, too. Each had her own unique charm, and their expressions were so lively.
But the one I thought was the most beautiful… though he might get angry if I called a boy beautiful… was Lord Hugues.
We finished our tea party before the sun began to set, parting with a promise to meet again, next time at someone else’s home.