"So, how have you been, girl?" Peyton asked before twirling her straw around in her fancy, multi-coloured cocktail. The ringlets of her blonde hair cascaded all around her defined shoulders, while her expensive shades were nestled securely just above her forehead. Her ruby lips shaped to a pout around the straw, and it was almost sexual as I watched her slurp. There was something definitely different about her, like a confidence I'd never witnessed before.
I shyly sipped my own mocktail while glancing around the table, noting her brand-new phone, her designer handbag and the fashionable clothes she was wearing, right down to the stiletto heels. She always used to dress so homely, and I was perturbed by the sudden turnaround. "Not bad," I finally said. "Just readying myself for the home straight. I'll hopefully be qualified and practicing within the next few years."
Peyton narrowed her eyes. "Wait, you're still doing that whole university thing? I thought you'd have dropped out by now." Her words were laced with a mixture of pity and condescension that made my stomach churn. There was no way in hell I'd ever be a dropout, especially with the amount of years I'd invested in my education. "You seem to have been doing that forever? It's been like, what, five or six years or something? When does it turn into something else?" She rolled her eyes off to the side while gently clasping the straw between her manicured fingers. "School was enough for me. I'll never understand why someone would volunteer for more of that, hell, even pay for it."
I forced a smile, trying to ignore the sting of her ignorance. "Yeah, still at it. Almost done, actually." I couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride at my accomplishment, even as I struggled with the urge to shrink away from Peyton's judgmental gaze. But, I was on the verge of finally becoming a certified doctor. Sure, the educational process was long and drawn out, and as she insinuated, expensive, but it was a strict industry with practical consequences. Of course they were thorough in our training.
"Well, good for you, I guess," she said while still averting her eyes, her tone implying it was anything but.
"Yeah," I said, while also awkwardly taking another sip of my drink. Envy fizzled through my veins again as I traced my eyes over my best friend once more. We'd known each other since we were knee-high, but hadn't been in touch so much lately. That was mostly my fault since I spent a lot of time with my nose buried in books.
A lot had changed since we last got together, and it was like Peyton had undergone a makeover. I mean, she was always a pretty girl, but it was like everything had been carefully massaged and nurtured into something just that little bit more beautiful. She was glammed out in some real eye-catching jewellery, and her nails were flawless. There were little patches of glitter applied to her cheekbones, and I don't know, it just worked. The specifically well-groomed nature of her appearance and attention to detail just communicated she had her shit together in a way I was currently lacking.
"Oh," she said while suddenly coming back to life. "Did I tell you I just rented the penthouse apartment in Horizon Suites?" Her eyes widened excitedly. "I have the whole top floor. It has, like, some panoramic view of the river. You can totally see Big Bin and all that." She kissed the air. "It's like, so stunning, darling. Everyone else there is like lawyers, and footballers, and hotshot bankers and stuff." She sighed. "You just have to come by and see."
I wanted to be happy for her, and I cocked my head, forcing a smile. I was still crammed up in a house share with a load of almost-alcoholics and the kind of people that didn't know how to clean. My room more resembled a prison cell in its size than something you'd expect of a future doctor. I spent most of the week living off of rice and noodles because that's all my student budget could accommodate. I took the bus every day because a car was a distant dream. It didn't seem at all fair, and it got me wondering how Peyton was able to live such a fancy lifestyle. She was a goody-two-shoes who came from a respectable family. As far as I knew, she still attended church with her parents every Sunday. She never seemed interested in unmitigated consumerism or showing off for others, so it seemed odd that she was suddenly so vain, and where the hell had all this money come from? Living in a penthouse suite? The last we spoke, she was still living with her parents and struggling to hold down a job at the animal rescue shelter. It certainly piqued my own curiosity. "So how have you been keeping busy?" I asked. "You seem in high spirits?" I couldn't hold back. "The apartment sounds nice. How...how'd you afford that?"
"I'm living my best life," she said with a nonchalant shrug while completely brushing off my intrusive question. She twirled one of her ringlets around her finger, and then gazed out of the window at the passers-by. "No complaints here, darling. Everything is just fabulous."
"Okay," I said, not really knowing how else to respond to such a pretentious comment.
"Yes," she said with an extravagant huff. "It gets tiring sometimes though, you know? All of the travelling the world, meeting amazing people, staying in five-star hotels, shopping in the best stores." She shrugged again. "Especially building my brand. That takes so much out of me."
"Your brand?" I asked with a raised eyebrow. "You've launched a business?"
"Well, no," she said, and then she arrogantly gestured towards herself with her thumb. "I'm the brand. I market myself, you know?" She fumbled with her handbag and then slid her phone towards me. While I looked on she scrolled through a couple of her photos. "See, my social media is entirely focused around documenting my adventures. Stuff like the countries I visit, the places I eat. You know, that sort of thing. It's all about showing off and my followers love seeing me enjoying myself." She cocked her head to the side. "I guess they're kind of living vicariously through me. Like, they're stuck in their dull jobs, working their nine-to-fives, but then they see my pictures, and it's like, inspiring them to do something better and live a more satisfying life."
I was dumb-founded, especially since I was on the verge of joining the working society. Was she going to look down on me for earning a living every day? "Peyton," I said while cupping my hand over my mouth. A little giggle crept through my parted fingers. "Do you even know how shallow that sounds?"
"I know," she said with wide eyes. "I never thought I'd be this kind of girl, but, it's like, it becomes addictive. I mean, once you've flown first, there's no way in hell you'd ever want to go back to cattle class." She pointed a finger at me. "Believe me girl, as soon as you experience the finer things in life, you'll refuse to except anything less."
I dropped my hand, because my amusement instantly dispersed amongst the chatter of the surrounding patrons. I couldn't even dream of flying first class. Hell, I'd never even flown anywhere at all. My entire finances were dominated by my education. I could barely afford the rent on my crappy shared accommodation, and even my current mocktail was a rare outing. I scratched my head, and fidgeted awkwardly, because for the first time, I was starting to doubt my chosen path in life. My parents had always drilled into me that if I wanted to have a successful, comfortable life that meant something, then I should become a doctor or a lawyer. I'd opted for the former, and thrown everything into it, believing that it was the route out of the poverty that had blighted the many generations of my family. And yet, after so much work, effort, and mounting debt, at the age of 23 I had nothing to show for it. Even once I'd finally qualified, I was only going to have a piece of paper to prove it. I still had to actually make it as a doctor and prove myself, and I envisioned I'd be into my thirties before I started seeing any sort of notable return. I mean, the kind of life Peyton was bragging about seemed like a distant dream that was so far away.
The interest on my loans was extortionate too, and I'd heard plenty of horror stories from peers who, despite their strong work ethic, had fallen into depression while watching the inflating balance. 'I'm never going to pay it off,' was a frequent complaint. 'The amount I owe goes up every year,' was another. 'I'm not even covering the interest,' was the most devastating of all. It all felt like a cruel lie, because us students had signed up to something we didn't fully understand. 'Go to university,' had been the advice, but, the whole financial aspect, and its consequences, had never fully been explained. 'It's the best loan you'll ever have,' one advisor had professed. More recently though, those within the industry had been referring to it as a 'graduate tax' that we'd pay off for the next 30 to 40 years, chipping away at our income month after month. Honestly, when I'd enrolled, I'd assumed any loans were going to be charged zero percent, as naive as that was. The reality was way more daunting. I was tired, and overworked, and so glum about where things were heading because I was working so damn hard, just to find out Peyton was swanning around in some penthouse suite.
She didn't seem at all stressed in the way I was. She didn't have a huge student loan or exams to threat over. She apparently wasn't losing sleep over the upcoming rent that was due, and she seemed to spend however she pleased from the way she was dressed and decorated with sparkly shit. As she rambled on about her seemingly perfect life, I found myself caught between admiration and, well, resentment, as bad as it sounds. Honestly, part of me longed for the glamorous experiences she described, such as the freedom to jet off to exotic locations on a whim. But another part of me clung fiercely to the path I'd chosen, stubbornly so, because hard work had to pay off in the end, didn't it? All of the late nights studying and the exhaustive shifts were contributing to the future I was building step by step. Being a doctor was honourable, wasn't it? Such a role was a necessity in society and demanded respect. What was necessary with whatever Peyton was doing?
"That sounds...incredible," I finally managed to say as she stared at me expectantly, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. I hated feeling envious and insecure, yet also oddly superior. Wasn't I the one making the responsible choice? Wasn't I investing in my future while she chased fleeting pleasures? Yet, Peyton's social media was filled to the brim with her venturing around the world. As she scrolled some more through her photos, I was bombarded with images of her in some gorgeous, revealing bikini, showing off all of her curves, while she sipped drinks and lounged by a pool. It was baffling, because her family, as decent as they were, couldn't be considered rich. She had no wealthy boyfriend, as far as I knew, and she most definitely didn't work. I licked my lips, and then my thoughts came to life without me even consciously intending to share them. "How do you afford all of this?" I asked once again.
Peyton blinked, as if in surprise, and for a second, it seemed as if she was about to brush me off once more. However, she suddenly became all coy, licking her lips as if she could no longer hold it in. She leaned closer and whispered, "It's a secret, darling."
