35. Mr. Perfectly Fine (4/7/21)

In an instance, someone was pulling the blankets off my bed, and I had to wipe the gunk out of my eyes to clear my vision and see who the perpetrator was. It could have been a cruel monster, but instead, my best friend Sophie was standing over the bed, pulling at the duvet before giving up and placing her hands on her hips.

"I cannot believe you," she said, the disgust dripping from her voice. "You promised me you would be there tonight."

I sat up in bed, running my fingers through my blonde curls and staring up at her. She had been practicing her arias for months, so it only felt right to attend the opera tonight. But then I remembered who would also be in attendance, and my heart crumbled into a million pieces at the thought.

"You can't sit in bed all day wallowing in your own self-pity," Sophie said matter-of-fact. "Remember how angry you were after the break-up? I would rather see you angry than sad."

I couldn't help but smirk at her confession. A few weeks ago, my boyfriend of six months, Robbie, had broken my heart. He used to claim we would be together forever. I thought I was going to marry him, even though I didn't have a steady job or enough money to afford a wedding. Then, the night before we were supposed to go out, he called and said he wanted to end the relationship. He said he didn't want to do it that night, out of fear of causing a scene. I had never felt so disrespected in my life.

Sophie was the first person I told about the breakup. My parents and sister knew the following week, but by the time I told them, I was tearful and melancholy. When I revealed the news to Sophie, I was fiery and looking for revenge. How dare he break up with me, and on the phone no less! He deserved to pay. Now, all that anger had dissipated, but it sounded like Sophie wanted it back.

"He's gonna be there tonight, Soph," I said, crawling towards the foot of the bed to sit in front of her. "What am I gonna do if he wants to talk to me?" The question was more rhetorical; following the breakup, I had stalked Robbie's social media pages. He had not been fazed by the breakup, and if he had been, he didn't show it. He returned to his life of lavish, attending parties he didn't think I was good enough to go to, and wearing perfectly pressed suits. He picked up girls and treated them like toys, throwing one away when he lost interest. Maybe I needed to read between the lines; he was painting himself as a player, a user, a bad boy. He had never acted like that when we were together. Was he looking for a rebound? I wanted to ask Sophie, but I knew she would shoot the idea away. As far as she was concerned, Robbie was a no-good fuckboy who didn't care about settling down. She supported my earlier plans of seeking revenge, but I had lost all the energy.

"Come out tonight," she said, taking me by the hand. "You can wear that red dress you wore to my birthday party last year; show him what he's missing. And if you do run in to him, so what? I know you'll figure out something."

I chuckled as a million ideas filled my brain. If I wanted revenge, like Sophie was suggested, I needed to show up looking my best and not let my emotions overcome me. I needed to channel that anger and fury into something that would leave Sophie and me in fits of laughter.

Later that night, I blew out my curls, donned my red dress, and painted my face until I was a gorgeous princess out of children's fairytale. Sophie had left hours ago for a last minute vocal rehearsal. She was playing the second lead in the opera, and had many small arias sprinkled throughout the show. I had seen her shows before, and oftentimes they were either too boring or her role was so small that there was nothing of note. But this time, I was looking forward to seeing my best friend showing off her skills. And it wasn't just because Robbie would be in attendance.

I called an Uber and arrived at the opera house a half hour before the show began. My seat was in the front row of the balcony, so I could see the whole stage from a distance. The opera house was the largest venue Sophie had ever performed in, with many seats filling the orchestra section, and ten box seats on the outer sides of the auditorium. If memory served me right, Robbie had a box seat here.

I took my seat and scanned the stage and box seats, wondering which one Robbie would be in. He never took me to the opera, claiming I wouldn't like it, but I knew the truth; he didn't want to be seen with me in public. I had ignored all the excuses, believing he had my best interest at heart.

Suddenly, I saw him. He was taking a seat in the second box on the right; he was joined by a young woman with auburn hair and a black dress. That anger from so many weeks ago was bubbling up inside of me. Sophie was right; it was a good idea to come tonight. And I would make it my mission to run into him.

The first act began, and I watched in amazement as Sophie sang aria after aria. I could hardly keep up with the plot since half the show was in Italian, but the program told me Sophie's character was in a forbidden romance with a male character in the show. I wasn't sure how the side plot related to the main characters and their romantic troubles, but about halfway through, I decided to just sit back and watch.

A half hour later, the lights went up for a fifteen minute intermission. This was my chance to see Robbie. I rose my seat and went down the steps that led to the balcony. The box seats were usually reserved for the people who had bought tickets, but when I reached Robbie's, there was no red rope blocking the way. I saw him sitting, one leg crossed over the other. I didn't know where the woman in the black dress had gone, and in that moment, I didn't care.

"Funny seeing you here," I said in a sarcastic voice. Robbie turned my way, and I saw his jaw drop and his eyes go wide. The red dress did have that effect on members of the male species.

"Ruby? What are you doing here?" He rose from his seat to meet me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a small refreshments table complete with wine, crackers, and cheese. When Robbie wasn't looking, I inched towards the table.

"Sophie's in the show," I said, even though he didn't know my friend. He wore a quizzical expression.

"Ruby, I'm so sorry about what happened between us," he said, but his voice sounded disingenuous; he even wore a light grin. "If you're trying to win my favor, you can stop trying."

I chuckled before turning and pouring myself a glass of red wine. I noticed his white shirt under the black suit. He had never worn something as lavish as that when we were dating. He also didn't seem to notice the glass of wine, which I swirled in my hand.

"You're not worth my time," I replied with a smirk. "You told me we would be together forever, Robbie. And then you broke up with me over the phone. I didn't mean anything to you."

The words cut my skin like a knife, even though I knew they were true. I looked down at my glass of wine, and before Robbie could reply, I splashed him with the red liquid. It stained his expensive suit.

"You bitch!" He screamed, garnering looks from the other audience members and the men in the orchestra. I chuckled under my breath before turning on my heels and returning to my seat in the balcony; the show wasn't over yet.