Chapter Text
Margarita watched the people mingle as she sat dutifully, trying to ignore the way her left shoe pinched her toes, how the clasp of her necklace irritated the back of her neck, or how her earrings felt too heavy and pulled on her poor ears.
Here she was, at another function full of the brightest minds of the new regime, yet she sat there feeling utterly lost. A hand touched her shoulder, and she immediately looked up at its owner, smiling, to receive the praise for her husband. How lucky she was, to find such a brilliant young man, with such a future. No need to worry over herself now, with her future secure! Margarita agreed vehemently, of course; she enjoyed many fine things, finer than most. Her husband was lovely, her apartment was nice, and her access to the books had grown considerably.
At barely 21, married just shy of three years, Margo had the sudden feeling that this was to be her life: sitting prettily as she listened to those around her. Growing up, she sat often while her father talked business, and everyone around them would comment on how charming a child she was and, later, how beautiful she was with her sharp eyes and dark, gently curling hair. Yes, she was destined to a life full of this.
She suppressed a shudder and adjusted how she sat, finally reaching for the glass of vodka her husband had so sweetly brought her. She preferred not to drink since it affected her so greatly, but at times like this she wouldn’t turn down one glass. She shut her eyes, downed the vodka, and enjoyed the warmth that spread through her chest. Maybe she could be like other women, drinking and sharing stories with the other wives about the maids and the latest news of their children.
Margo gave herself a shake. There was no point in dwelling on what she could not control. There was so little in her life she could control aside from the very basics.
She opened her eyes and was startled to find a man sitting directly across from her. “Interesting party,” he said. Margo tried to remember when he had sat down. She hadn’t heard the chair move.
“Yes, isn’t it?” she replied, trying to hide how his sudden appearance had startled her. She tried to recall his name; he seemed familiar, but she had met so many people over the course of the evening that she couldn’t be sure. He was sharply dressed, as everyone else was, save for the long hair pushed back from his face.
“All the same people are always talking about the same old things at these precious parties,” he sighed. Well, there was her answer. She must have met him at another of these soirees.
“Well, with all the wonderful work that is being done in this country, of course that is what everyone will want to talk about.”
The man smiled, and she wondered faintly if she was missing something. “Yes, it’s quite wonderful. I have to imagine it will be the same thing at the next party and the one after that.”
Margo grimaced inwardly. She wanted to scream at the idea. Instead, she smoothed the front of her dress and let the pleasant haze of the alcohol settle over her as she carefully thought over her next words. “Well if it is to be a similar party, let’s just hope the vodka is a bit better next time.”
The man across from her laughed. She smiled back at him, feeling strangely endeared.
“It isn’t as bad as it could be. Not as bad as the burn of arsenic.”
Margo paused at that. What an odd thing to say. “I can’t imagine that that is very pleasant.”
“No, but the bliss afterward! No more parties, no more questions of why you never join in the wives’ conversations.”
Margo frowned, head swimming with the implication of his words. How could he possibly know what she was thinking? “What—”
The sound of her husband calling her name as he approached drew her gaze for half a second. When she looked back she was startled to find the seat in front of her empty, as though nobody had been sitting there only moments before.
The alcohol, she thought. It’s playing with my mind.
She still couldn’t help feeling shaken.