Hello again, I thought.

The cold sweat from the short cocktail cup stuck to her hand and fingers, passing through the black cocktail napkin, decorated with gold flecks of decoration to allure the crowd of the elegance this even serves. She knew the hosts as distant friends, that were also well-known members to her in-laws. The room was dark, worm lit with ambiance lighting, and pure elegance. The soft sound of the live jazz band playing on the shiny teak wood floored stage played in the distance, and the room was filled with people she knew for many years, some decades, some just a few months of knowing, and many people she never once seen in her life.

There she was, standing side by side with four other people, one her spouse to the right, a cousin-in-law to her spouse’s right, and in front of her were two new faces she’s never seen before and was making small talk with during this night. More like listening to these four other people conversating, and her just listening, smiling, holding a semi-wet glass and tuning in and out of conversation knowing for cues of when to smile, saw simple phrases like ” oh, wow!”, to laugh, or say “oh, no way!” as these merely simple, boring, and meaningless conversations could continue all night long. She’d been counting down the hours when the event would die down and it would be time to be one of those many guests to leave after the dessert was served.

These types of events occured enough times more than she wanted. She, of course, married into this family, was obligated to go and gather. Unlike her family, who barely ever gathered. I guess I just put on such a fake persona that somehow I got wrapped up into a relationship, that ended up in a marriage, of a family that loves to celebrate life and gather together. At first these events were great, exciting, and something to look forward to. A reason to buy a gown, wrap up the hair, strap on the high heels, drink socially, and make memories to remember from gatherings. Sliding into this family, from my own, this used to be my dream. But now? Now I’ve done these gatherings for over twenty years, and here I am..bored. Nothing would come from this event, like so many in the past few years, just another “I wished I could be somewhere else, doing something else, actually enjoying my night” thought. Or atleast laying in bed, in comfortable clothes, knowing that laying next to my rescued-nervous wreck senior dog found more comfort than this. Knowing atleast I wasn’t disappointed with how I spent my night. The truth is, over time you just feel more and more alone. The spark of what you thought these events could bring and how they could make you feel, well, that fades away over time. “Was it me? Was it my upbringing? How different I am from these people?” I think to myself as I cruise the room with my eyes, watching couple sway and dance together. Laughing, smiling, moving and enjoying life.

Standing there, with my well-fit black satin dress, hair up in a perfect messy French-twist, and a modern approach to simple glam that insinuated my best facial features, and heels to make my 5″1′ frame hit three and a half inches taller in height, I’m alerted back to the laughter of the small circle in front of me, and I join in with a small kind laugh. No clue what the conversation was about, but here, I was. I was attesting to the even that I am here present. Yet mentally, who knows where I was. The ice in my drink separates like a crack in an iceberg. Slow, flat, and lifeless. Even with all the sound around, I still hear it as if it’s the only sound in the room. Or maybe the loudest sound in the room. Slow, flat, and lifeless. Like myself. I swallow the large last amount of liquid in my cocktail glass. Almost as if  before the large chunks of ice melt away and become dissolved into nothingness. Disappear, as if it never even existed. That, I fear could be my life. Dramatic yes, but alarming enough to look down at my watch and feel a sigh of relief that another thirty minutes have passed. Only three more hours to go – if I was lucky.

I frantically dart my eyes around the small circle to see if anyone else needs to freshen up their glass and get more of a drink, but no, thankfully everyone’s glass was still full. “Excuse me, I’m going to go grab another drink while the line is still short.” I saw before I could even hear the “okay, babe” back. I smile to everyone and say I’ll be right back, lift up my glass to show I am not lying, that this wasn’t a decoy to run away from boredom, but to truly, and honestly, go fill up my drink. Because God forbid our cups ever go empty in a crowd. Everyone smiles back and nods. A universal understanding here. I did walk a bit faster at first, but once as I got past five tables, I knew I was in the clear. I knew I could slow down, that I wasn’t really running  away from anything. So I took my time. I walked. a smooth, slow leisure walk. Knowing it was just me and space and time and my thoughts. I remembered to breath then. Knew that if I just kept a positive mindset, I would get closer to getting back home to comfort.

In line, I tapped my fingers lightly to the sound of the jazz music playing in the background. I loved jazz. Jazz was my comfort and my uplifting joy in the world. I would listen to jazz alone, as most people around me couldn’t understand what made music with no words enjoyable. Which I kind of was curious as to why there was jazz playing at this event, let alone a live jazz band. I assume it was because this type of crowd just like whatever was popular in the at moment. And having a classy aesthetic was in. An aesthetic I’ve always chased after. Another thing I could be grateful for in this moment. That the aesthetic I’ve chased for most of my life is finally in style. Well, atleast that.

“Oh, my fucking God..” I whispered under my breath, as my eyes happen to shift up to the top left corner of the room, no longer staring at the black wet napkin inbetween my fingers and the empty glass. I couldn’t believe it. It had been years, over fifteen years that I’ve seen him. Deep brown maghoney hair, with a long wave, combed back, yet a piece falling to the side of his face that he had to adjust every so often, falling out of the smoothed back polished hair style, unable to be tamed. Just like him, I thought. Here he was, dressed in a suit and tie. A Goddamn suit and tie. But, of course, not a dark navy blue jacket. He, like I, could not be fully, solidly, one to blend into the obyess of tradional and basic. With all the men in the room wearing black suits, here he was with his navy jacket. I always loved that about him. No matter what it was, you could not conform him into the mass. And that’s what made him a gem. Meant more to me, added how much more special and authentic he was. Don’t get me wrong, he could charm a room like none the other, especially with his Libra ascendent (if we must drag Astrology and the connection of the stars into this, yes let’s give it credit where it is due), but at the end of the day he was an honest person.

After walking into the room, he looked a bit rushed, a bit nervous to be late to the event. I could read on his face, that he hoped no one would see and would be upset with him for being late to the event. He wasn’t somebody to be late, and he took invites that other people extended to him as a form of gratitude. He was happy to attend events, and connect with others. His presence brought joy to those who spent time with him. It was so welcoming. He was so welcoming. As he lifted his head up, pushed back his fallen section of hair from his face, his eyes locked and a smile emerged on his face. One so big, his smile illuminated his true nature, his true inner light.
He saw me. And a smile creeped up in the right side of my mouth. His chest went up, taking in a breath, held it, and released it ever so slowly.

Hello, again. I thought. The whole room had blurred out, and I was calm again. As if he took his breath, and put it back into me. I felt like life was awakening again. Or I was awoken to life again.

But, as I saw, he was so welcoming. As soon as he started to walk forward to my direction, an older woman stopped him, and went in for a kiss on the cheek and to talk to him. She looked so happy to see him. Introducing him to her older husband and them conversating. He kept looking up at me, then looking to the couple in front of him. Making that look with his eyes like “I’m on my way! I promise!”  I smile, knowing that his weakness is connecting with others, especially senior and kids.
“And what would you like?” The bartender asked as he mixed a martini in two silver cups side, to side upside his head, and trying to take my order before it’s time to serve them into chilled glasses for the couple of women gossiping to each other in front of me.

“Uh…” I had snapped back into reality and it was time for me put in my order. You know, the reason why I ran away so fast. The reason I gave to run away so fast. I’ll do a mocktail of a squeeze of lime, malted with some sugar, lots of mint, ginger beer, and a splash of grenadine. The bartender nearly rolled his eyes. Commonly I would get a similar facial gesture from bartenders who think that just because you aren’t drinking alcohol, you won’t tip them well. I didn’t drink alcohol, but I over-tipped, because I felt guilty. Guilty for one, not falling in to this crowd to drink away the drink to alcohol, and also because I didn’t want the bartender to hate me thinking I wouldn’t tip. So, as usual, I planned to tip 50-100% of my drink cost. Depending on how guilty and shameful I felt, of course. “And for you, sir?” The bartender nodded to the gentleman in the blue suit next to me. A chill came over my entire body. He was here. Right next to me. I could smell him. He wore, his classic scent Jean Paul Gaultier le male. I take in a deep breath, and smell him in. And slowly let it out. As if I was in a yoga session. I breath in, hold the breath, and breath out again, but this time longer. The same, but this time a little different. There was a different note to it. Like a new, more deeper note to his smell. I liked it.