My Dear Hard Drive

“His parents took him to the town when they found out he was ill. He didn’t get too bad while he was still here. I paid for it, actually.” He replied sounding slightly proud of himself.
“I didn’t know.” Florence said silently. “Thank you for paying for him, dad.” She then added. “I wish it would have helped – why didn’t you tell  me he died?”
“I thought you’d be terribly upset, dear. I didn’t want to upset you.” He replied and patted her hand.
“Well of course I would have been upset, but I kept looking for him for months after he was gone. I went to every place I could imagine to find him… I went to his house too, to find him, but there was nobody there.”
“You went to his house?!” Her mother interrupted her with a screechy voice of sheer terror. “Those people, his village… They could have… Oh dear!” All blood run off her face as her posture collapsed on the chair.
“Oh mom, there was nothing to be afraid of. The people were very friendly to me. Once I got there, Old Jacko took me to his house anyway; it was all right, mother.”
“What if he hadn’t been there? Oh dear I would have just died if I had known that… They didn’t harm you, are you sure? You were crying so much then, they didn’t harm you, did they?”
“No, mother,” she replied respectfully, even though in reality she wanted to choke her already, “nobody harmed me. I cried because I had lost my only friend, surely you can understand that.” Her mother didn’t reply, but she was still seemingly upset and demonstrated it by tapping her chest in an attempt to calm her heart down, waving her hand in front of her face to create a cool air flow that was supposed to supply her with some oxygen, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, her father apologized for not saying anything sooner, as he thought as she finally calmed down weeks after him being gone, he didn’t want to upset her with the news of his death.

In the evening, when she returned home with Patrick, she excused herself from his company under pretence of being very tired. She informed her maid not to disturb her tomorrow, as she would be sleeping in. She went into her room, locked the door behind her, and laid on her bed bursting into instant tears. She pressed her face onto the pillow to prevent anyone from hearing, even though she knew the walls were too thick to let out a noise from a shut gun. She had always hoped that some day she would find Enrique, or he would come back and she would have her friend back, but she never even considered that he had died. She tried to imagine him slowly dying alone without her, and she could not forgive herself asking that question before today. Maybe her father would have allowed her to visit him, if he had paid for Enrique’s treatment; her father must have had more of a heart than she thought he did.

She came downstairs in the afternoon, just in time for lunch. Patrick was in, and he looked at her with a concerned expression.
“Are you all right, dear?” He asked, got up of his seat and pulled her one.
“Oh I am fine, I’m just being silly and upset over a friend long gone. I’ll be fine in no time.” She replied and gave him a smile. Their relationship had gotten a whole lot better since they had mutually agreed that their marriage was not one based on love, and that there should be no pretence of it either.
“Were you in love with him dear?” He asked with a bit of a laugh in his eye.
“Well what do you think? I was 10 and he was a boy, of course I was in love with him.” She giggled. “I think all girls are like that at the age – although most of them would not play with them to start with.”
“Indeed, I didn’t think your parents were the type of condoning that sort of friendships.” He noted as he was cutting through the meat on his plate.
“I don’t know if they did or did not, I am not quite sure they were aware of the amount of time I spent with that boy.” She replied quite lightheartedly and turned around to request a glass of wine of the help.
“What are you planning to do today, dear?” Patrick asked.
“I have to meet my dress maker; I need a new dress for the ball on Saturday.” She replied.
“You women and your dresses! Have you ever worn the same thing twice?” He teased.
“If I have, that would have been by accident, my dear. I could not possibly make you seem too poor to clothe your own wife. I am only doing it for you, my dear Patrick.” She replied.
“Oh naturally, what was I thinking! Your endless dress up games are all for my own benefit! Will you do me a favor then, as it is for my benefit, would you select something in orange? You look so very stunning in orange, and most women will just pale in comparison. It would make me happy to show you off in my arm, wearing orange.” He requested sounding almost dreamy. Florence gazed at him to decide whether or not he was being serious or not, and decided he must have been, at least half serious, and he was right, she did look fabulous in orange.
“Orange, you say? I will take that under advisement, dear, I certainly will. I haven’t worn orange for a while. I must ask her if she has any fabric in store for that color. If she doesn’t she has no chance finishing it off by Saturday.” She talked more to herself than Patrick, but he seemed fascinated.
“What I have learned about you women is that no matter how silly ideas you have in your heads, you still love your fashion. And that is all good news for us blokes.” He said and got up. “I must away, dear, I have a meeting with a new-comer from good old England, and he is insisting that I want to invest in what ever he is planning. I am quite curious; something to do with scientific studies that he insists will revolutionize something. I don’t know but it might bring us some more money to spend on your dresses dear.”
Florence wished good luck with his endeavors and finished her meal before leaving to meet her dress maker.

Her dressmaker was a smiling woman of the same age as Florence. She came to Honduras originally to serve her previous employer when they moved to Honduras to avoid the Great War raging in Great Britain, believing they needed a British dressmaker to cope in the new place. She was then found to be in such popular demand, that she started her own shop in the centre of the town, providing the upper class women with all the lace and silk they could possibly want. After the war, the supplies from Europe had started to come in as well, so the selections were again up to par. As for orange, she had just received a pack of orange silk that she was happy to offer to Florence. She said she was hesitant to get that color, but she couldn’t resist as it was so vibrant and striking color. She told Florence laughing, that her mentor would have strongly disapproved the use of such colors, which were not suitable for a lady in her opinion.

Florence enjoyed her trips to the dress maker, not so much for the love of fashion, as it was for the dress maker herself. She wasn’t too concerned about gossip or such inane topics as her usual company, and she found herself being rather relaxed at her shop.
“What is it like to actually work?” Florence asked her suddenly. “I mean… DO something with yourself. Be useful. It must be fantastic.” She added.
“Are you having one of those fits as the women of your class sometimes get?” Her dressmaker smiled as she was taking her measurements.
“I don’t know what they get or don’t get. All they ever talk about is mindless chatter.” Florence sighed.
“If you are implying that you are feeling useless, then think of what I do. I decorate useless women to make them fit for mindless chatter. What does that make of me?” She smiled so that Florence didn’t think she was actually sorry for what she was doing, so she dared to smile as well.
“When you put it that way, I see your point.” She replied.
“I often wonder what it would be like not having to do anything. Just be and do what you wanted.” Lauren then confessed.
“What would you do if you could do what you wanted?” Florence was curious for once.
“I would take a trip to New York.” Lauren said stopping what she was doing to look out of the window with a longing gaze in her eyes. “After I had made an impressive wardrobe for myself for the travel, of course!” she then added and laughed. Florence then decided, that should she ever have to go to New York, she would ask Lauren to come with her under some pretence. She had no desire to go to New York herself, but if going there would come with the benefit of making someone like Lauren happy, she would not think of it twice.
“I thought you had lost weight!” Lauren announced suddenly comparing her previous measurements to the ones she just took. “I thought you looked skinnier than normal. Are you eating all right?”
“Are you supposed to ask that sort of questions of your clients, Lauren?” Florence teased her. She knew Lauren would never get that personal with her other clients, but since Florence escaped all manners and etiquettes as often as she could Lauren learned quickly that she could talk to her any way she pleased.
“Oh don’t try to change the subject. Is something bothering you?” Lauren placed her hands on Florence’s shoulders, staring into her eyes. Lauren tried to avoid her eyes, but being locked in like that she couldn’t.
“Something is, but it is nothing serious.” She tried to shake her off her case, but Lauren wasn’t easily persuated. “Ok.” Florence gave in. “I used to have a friend here when I was a little girl. I learned just yesterday that he died soon after he disappeared from our farm. That upset me so much that I think I may have lost some weight over it.”
“Oh I’m no doctor but it sounds quite sudden to go that quickly.” She leaned over to her records. “It says here you’ve lost a good few inches.”
“You are right, you are no doctor.” Florence smiled. “But you should consider a career in that field.”