A Chilling Friendship - Part VIII

Now that she’s dead, I can write about her without fear of lawsuits or reprisals. We were best friends, almost sisters, until we weren’t. Jealousy overtook her, and as a result she intentionally and maliciously tried to sabotage my career. Revenge is a dish best served cold, they say. But my revenge was hot hot hot.  

THIS IS PART 8 of a TEN-PART FICTION STORY

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

 

The manuscript in question was eventually published, but it took several years for that to happen. I never said anything to Caroline about the botched interview, figuring it was my own damn fault for getting drunk. But in time, I realized that Caroline’s behavior had been intentional, and that she had wanted me to screw up.

After that, we drifted apart. I rarely saw Caroline anymore, and my relationship to Ray, who moved to another city, ended. I myself moved on, marrying a second time, having more children, producing more manuscripts. Eventually, I became known as an author, which meant I went on book tours and traveled all over the country giving talks and lectures. By then, I was sober and the drunken girl of the past had receded into the shadows. When I thought of Caroline now, it was with a kind of loathing; she had done me wrong, had become an enemy – someone to watch out for and avoid.

Years passed, and when I was in my fifties I was invited to teach for a semester as a guest lecturer in the Creative Writing and Literature program at Harvard. Caroline, by then, had been appointed Dean of the Graduate School of Education.

We hadn’t seen one another in decades and now we were suddenly thrown together – two women who had reached the pinnacle of their careers and didn’t have time for bullshit.

When, finally, we were face to face again, we said hello frostily – or, at least, I did; Caroline was all smiles. She had aged considerably, creases around her eyes and mouth, yellow blond hair now the color of ginger ale. But with her erect posture and presumptive air of authority, she was still intimidating. Instinctively, I didn’t want to be around her.

But I had no choice. “Well, it’s been a long time,” she said, reaching out to clasp my hand. It gratified me that her teeth were a little yellow.

“Sure has,” I said, slipping my hand out of hers almost immediately. I had no plan to be chummy with her again.

“Congratulations on your success,” she said in a voice that meant otherwise. “I’ve read your work and it’s wonderful.”

From the coolness in her eyes, I could tell that she didn’t think there was anything wonderful about me or my work. Her gaze remained steady. if she could have stabbed me with a fork then and there, she would have.