Fiction: Petrify

This months Words for Wednesday prompts are provided by Sean Jeating and is hosted at Elephant's Child's blog over here. This week's prompts are: consider, rather, superstitious, paraskevidekatriaphobia, table and/or bigots, different, gender, hyperbolise, teeth. Last week's prompts are: desert, dream, machos, planet, treatment, and/or bags, behind, four, infinity, walk. Charlotte (MotherOwl) has given us Pebble Grey as the colour of the month. I didn't use superstitious, bigots or paraskevidekatriaphobia - just couldn't find them fitting to the story.

Fiction: Petrify
Elma Knox's head started to ache which she knew wasn't a good sign. Across the table, her fiancé, Peter Small, was rambling on. Getting engaged had been a wonderful dream but now happiness was out of her reach. Sometimes she felt as if she was struck in the desert going in circles looking for water while rain fell upward.
    Tonight, the pair sat at their usual corner table with tall plants blocking them from other diners. Through the small gaps between the foliage, Elma watched other couples in their ordinary happiness and it made her wondered what was wrong with her and Peter. She played with the infinity pendant hanging from around her neck. When Peter had given her the pendant, he had seemed so sincere but now she wasn't so sure. Peter might had a bit of macho ego in him but his best talent was to hyperbolise his words.
    Right now, Elma thought he was most self-absorbed man on the planet. Thrice, Elma had tried to interrupt but he simply ignored her. He probably didn't even notice the dark shadows under her eyes for not having slept in weeks trying to plan their wedding with his mother. For four months, Elma had wanted to kick her would-be-mother-in-law's fat behind before she finally told her she needed to make her own decisions. The woman had responded by withdrawing as the wedding planner along with her many assistants and giving Elma the silent treatment.
    "Elma, you haven't been listening to me, have you?" Peter said while he cut his steak into small squares.
    "No. Should I have?" She met his blue eyes. Had they always been this cold?
    After eating two pieces of steak, he dabbed his mouth with the napkin and took a sip of his wine. "Elma, you must remember, as my wife, you must show a well-behaved appearance. I don't want people to think I have an out-of-control wife."
    "Oh? Shall I start dressing like a doll and pretended I had a lobotomy?" Elma smiled showing most of her teeth.
    Peter shook his head. "That is what I meant. You have to learn not to say such things out loud. It makes people think you're ill-educated."
    "People already thought that," replied Elma. All Peter's friends and relatives had hinted, rather openly, at their dislike of Elma's inferior upbringing.
    Peter neatly folded his napkin and set it down beside his plate. "That attitude of yours needs adjusting."
    "Is it just my attitude that needs adjusting? I thought it was my body and my brain." Elma tightened the grip on the knife.
    "I really think you should take the classes my mother recommended. They will help you be a proper lady."
    "Oh, you mean proper like your mother? Or your sister, who hangs around you being so proper while making insults at me while I stand beside you? Is that the kind of proper you're talking about? Or perhaps I should pretend I was never a common girl from the Bronx?"
    "Elma, please." He pursed his lips into a tight line.
    "Other people might think I'm lowbred but you, my fiancé, who supposedly love me, actually think I'm beneath him!" Even when there was no one to teach her, she knew class shouldn't matter as long as you're happy with yourself.
    He leaned forward slightly. "Please, Elma, lower your voice. We're in a public place."
    The ache in Elma's head increased. She dropped the knife and the fork. The loud clank sounded loud among the low music and murmurs around them. She looked across the table at the face she had known for five years. Before Peter, all she had to consider was her own happiness. After Peter, it was as if anything she did needed his approval. She had even pushed all the unsavory things about Peter toward the back of her mind so that she could accept him and his imperfect self. Lately, she had wondered if she had not made her fortune with her sculptures, would Peter have even knowledged her existent?  
    Now she realized it was stupid to make herself unhappy to accept a man who would always place her second after him. She was through taking Peter's crap. "I think it's better we break up now before I regret what I'll do." Her head still ached. She wanted a cheeseburger not steak but Peter had overruled her again. But she needed food to fuel her aching head. She picked up the knife and fork and started cutting the steak and took a bite. It tasted a little dry. She would have asked for ketchup except this classy restaurant owned by Peter and his friend Jacob Pillar had no such things. They didn't even have cheeseburger as you have to order cheese on that side but the burgers were often too neat. Elma liked messy food - they made her feel she didn't have to be classy to enjoy a meal.
    "No. We're not breaking up. We have already announced our wedding everywhere. The president of Smothers Art Society and his wife are coming. We are not changing our plans. I know you're stressed by the wedding so why don't we have a smaller ceremony and get a planner to do it. Alright, Elma?" Peter smiled. Why had Elma not realized how pretentious that smile was?
     She took a sip of the wine. It tasted stale and bitter. She picked up her glass of water and took a large gulp. "No, not alright. We're through and I'm not going to—"
    "You listen to me, Elma Knox. If you don't want people to know what you did before you became famous, you will keep your mouth shut and do as I tell you." He downed the rest of his wine. His eyes never left her. There was a hint of anger in them.
    Elma glared at him. She tightened her grip on the glass. All her life, she had worked hard to get here and this man was going to take it away with just a few words? Would people think of her differently if they knew she had been a drug addict? But she had left that life behind. Her head was throbbing as if it might implode but she couldn't veer her eyes away from his icy blue ones.
    "What? No snappy comebacks?" His lips turned into a smirk. "Tomorrow—" His mouth froze as was the rest of him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The right term for Peter's freezing was petrify but Elma didn't like that word. It sounded as if she had scared Peter or turned him into stone. She wouldn't let her anger slip that far. Four months ago, she freaked out when her would-be-mother-in-law froze for one minute when she called Elma lowbred. As soon as Elma's anger died down, her would-be-mother-in-law was fine again. When the freezing happened a few more times, Elma had learned to accept it and always tried to keep her temper down.
    Through the gaps in the foliage, the other diners appeared not to notice anything. She fumbled in her purse for her sunglasses but it wasn't there. Her stomach rumbled. Being angry always made her hungry. Her plate was empty. Across the table, there was Peter's half eaten steak. No. She wouldn't have that. She needed something sweet to calm her nerves.
    She called the waiter whose name tag was Liberty. Without meeting the woman's eyes, Elma said, "We're ready for the cake. And bring me a glass of milk with ice, will you?" Cold milk always helped with the rise in her body temperature.
    "I'm sorry. Mr. Small cancelled the cake."
    "What?" Elma looked up at the waiter which was a mistake. Her strange ability affected both gender. The instant Elma met Liberty's eyes, the woman froze. Her brown eyes stared unblinking but after a few seconds, she unfroze. She shook her head as if shaking something off. "Is there anything else I can get you?"
    Elma always ordered a chocolate-raspberry icebox cake on her birthday. She should've known Peter would cancel the cake. His mother probably told him about Elma's weight gain. He certainly wouldn't have remembered her birthday.
    Elma rubbed her aching head. "What other cakes do you have available?"
    "I'm sorry, miss. Cakes have to be ordered a day in advance. Otherwise you can only get them in slices," said Liberty.
    "Fine. Get me enough slices of chocolate-raspberry icebox cake to make a whole one. And a glass of cold milk with ice. And clear everything away. We're done here."
    "Yes, ma'am," said Liberty. She gathered the plates and silverware and left.
    Elma peered at Peter. He was still looking at her as if he was pausing for a photo.
    In a few moments, Liberty returned with seven slices of chocolate-raspberry icebox cake and a glass of milk with ice.
    "Thank you," said Elma with her eyes down. She didn't have to look to know the waiter had glanced at Peter before she left.
     Elma picked up the fork and started on her cake. The first bite cooled her head and lessened the ache. She glanced at Peter. His skin was still a dark tan hue. She took a sip of the milk and rubbed her forehead. The ache was easing. She couldn't help but noticed how the other waiters passing by were looking Peter's way. If he didn't unfreeze soon, she didn't know what she should do.
    By the time she had eaten four slices, Peter's skin was a pebble grey though his clothes remained untouched. Was he turning to stone? Elma drank the last of the milk and wiped her mouth. Her headache was a faint tingle.
    She got up and walked over to Peter's side. With a trembling hand, she dug inside Peter's jacket and took out his wallet. She flipped through it and got out his credit card and tucked the wallet back. She returned to her seat and called the waiter.
    "Yes, miss?"
    "Can you wrap these up to go? And here. Give yourself a generous tip." Elma held the credit card out toward her. Liberty took it and then gathered up the cakes and everything else and left.
    Elma should leave. Suddenly Peter unfroze. He blinked rapidly. The grayness on his skin had mostly faded away. "What was I saying?" he said looking up at Elma.
    Elma smiled. "You insisted we break up. You said it wasn't right for you to use me to advance your career. It was time you go on your own."
    "I did? Well— I mean— I don't—" He cleared his throat and reached for his glass but it wasn't there. "What happened to my food and drink? I wasn't finished." He stared at the bare table in front of him.
    "Yeah, you did. Don't you remember?" Elma tried to keep her face neutral. The longer it took to unfreeze, the longer the memory lapse. Peter was probably trying to remember the last half hour but he won't remember, not for an hour.
    Liberty returned with two paper bags and put them and the credit card on the table.  "Anything else I can help you with, miss?"
    "No. Thank you," said Elma. She turned back to Peter. "I'm just going to the ladies room. Too much wine." She chuckled and stood up.
    Peter waved her off, still looking befuddled.
    "Here, take these with you." Liberty held out the two bags with the cakes. "You'll never know when you might them." She smiled, small, subtle but genuine. She didn't seem the least frightened or uneasy.
    Elma nodded. "Yes, of course. Thank you." She took the bags and glanced at Peter who was studying the table. She turned away and walked on.
    Behind her she heard Peter said, "Can you get me a glass of water?"
    Elma hurried away toward the opened dinning area, passing everyone while averting her eyes and dashed right out the front entrance.
    She walked the long way home. The cool October wind calmed her. When she get home, she will call her lawyer and leave town. She didn't have a fiancé and she would probably loose whatever friends she had but at least, she got money. And cake.