Ode to Joy(ce)

The camera zooms in on the kitchen.

There they are, the two laughing dark silhouettes. One is much taller, statuesque, her prominent cheekbones and piercing eyes would be the first things you would notice if not for her dominating natural height of 6 ft. She cuts an imposing figure in her tailored slacks and fitted blouse. This is Joyce, she is holding the spatula.

The other is shorter, less severe. She is mostly known for her friendliness and wide open smile, the latter of which she readily displays now. She sits atop the counter and her bare legs dangle from beneath her sundress, one of the many she owns. We shall call her Star, she gestures with her hands.

(Prepare the montage) The clothes are different and the smell that currently wafts through Joyce's expansive apartment is changed, but this is a familiar and recurring scene for the two of them.

It is a wonder that they are here today, together, laughing. They were introduced to each other in a manner that was bound for disaster. The typical, "Oh, you should meet my friend ________, she's black too!" The usual well-meaning friends that assume a similarity in pigment should further extend to a cohesion in personalities. This is rarely the case, but this time it did.

Joyce and Star have shared a friendship that has spanned most of the latter's existence in Bangkok. Joyce's strong will and icy temper has been tempered by Star's easy laughter and pushy optimism. While Star's often weak self-esteem has been reinforced with the other's Grade-J personality concrete.

The camera pans back towards the kitchen.

The lesson continues. Joyce is, as usual, trying to drill another so-called simple recipe into Star's porous brain. Star tries hard to concentrate (mostly) but the two of them know that these results are not likely to be replicated outside of this moment. Besides, their minds are elsewhere because this is not any ordinary lesson in torture (or, as you know it, cooking).
This is the last.

The camera zooms out and takes in the emptiness of Joyce's ordinarily modernly furnished apartment. Boxes line the walls, the paintings are pulled down, and even the usual cornucopia of high heels and stilettos has been put aside and contained.

The lesson is over. The usual grand red-oak table is no longer present so they will take their dinner in the kitchen while Fabien continues his work in the bedroom. Joyce and Fabien are off to France and tonight is the final evening that Star and Joyce will share together.

They discuss the future; Joyce's imminent departure and Star's eventual one. Promises to visit are made and assured, but they are both aware of the uncertainties. They smile and make merry; theirs is a beautiful, open laughter - Star's loud guffaws mixed with Joyce's slightly-muted titterings.The camera follows this sound outside of the kitchen, into the living room, and out through the open window.

The tears do not come until much later.

Fade to black.