Short in progress
Autumn nights
I remember that night so clearly, and the cool autumn breeze against my face. I walk haphazardly towards the estate amongst the Pinegrove as the birds sing in droves, oh indeed this is a happy home. I reach the house’s face at a late hour and am greeted by faces I knew but couldn’t place. I make my way through crowded halls, while giving out nervous smiles and trying to avoid eye contact, for confidence is a thing I lack. I find large events like this so isolating, for I am surrounded on all sides by people who don’t know me. It’s both terrifying and freeing as I make eye contact with passersby, since I know I’ll never see these people again. I make my way into the belly of the ball with men and women dressed so tall, but it didn’t mean anything at all. I am later approached by a waiter of the event who places a Venetian mask made of feather and lace. He places a drink in my hand and before we depart, he said, “don’t stay on the sidelines to late, or you’ll miss your chance. I thanked him and nodded, then took a drink of scotch from my Glencairn glass. The party raged on, but I continued to stay on the sidelines sipping my scotch and taking it all in. That is until I saw her enter the room. She wore a yellow cocktail dress and pearls from a bygone era and looked as if she belonged in a Fitzgerald novel. Her eyes popped against the chartreuse colored walls and her hair shimmered, like the crystal chandeliers of the reception hall. Her face and frame inspire me to leave my corner of comfort and take up arms against the sea of troubles swimming inside my head. I finish my drink and place it in my observation tower and put on my face to face the faces of those I have to meet. It’s too late now to retreat, for I have already breached her sea and can see her eyes shining before me. I swallow my pride and approach her with my head held high as I sink deeper into her chartreuse colored eyes. I ask nervously, “May I have this dance” and to my surprise her hands slipped into mine and we begin. The band that night played French Jazz and its forces took a hold of me as we swayed to the loud buzz of trumpet melody. We dance until our bodies gave out, then we exit stage left to replenish our parched lungs and tongues. We make our way to the bar and I order myself a French 75, and she a Manhattan, I ask in between sips, “what’s your name?” She looks me in the eyes and begins to laugh!
“I thought you’d never ask. My name is Allie, short for Alison. I’d ask you yours, but I already know everything there is to know about you from your dance moves.” I laugh deeply at her witty sentiment.
“It’s nice to meet you Allie, my name is Oliver…Hey, could I?” Before I could finish my statement, she grabbed my hand and began to write down her number. After she had finished, we finish our drinks and leave the jazz filled club. As we exit our faces are smacked with thick cigarette smoke, almost causing me to choke. I walk with Allie until we reach her car and as we reach her car, I discover that she drives a 1980’s yellow Volkswagen Rabbit with a 5 speed. I hug her goodbye and take in a final breath of her perfume, le labo I presume.