Big City Dreams

   So there I was.

    Dancing.

    In the midst of my troubles, in the midst of everything. But, in fact it was rather nice. Just twirling about the dark-wooded dance floor with this hidden-faced stranger. The music was softly drifting out of the white baby grand as the concert pianist played, and my stranger's jacket smelled of a darkly-sweet perfume. I looked up at his mask--a yellow crescent moon-- and smiled lightly. Surprising as it may seem, it was rather enjoyable--though forced upon me by an overly-demanding, French father and a prim, prance-a-bout mother--and it helped to sooth my head, buzzing with too many thoughts and too many glasses of champagne. The Decision loomed threateningly over my head like an angry stormcloud--The Decision, my decison, a decision to run away. The last notes of the song plinked out somewhat reluctantly. My stranger stepped back and took my gloved, right hand, softly planting a farewell kiss on it. I curtsied slightly and he bowed as was expected and we parted. I slipped through the new dancing pairs as they assembled, preparing for a slow, sad sounding waltz. The door wasn't far now. I quickened my already hurried pace, eyes fixed on it.

    I gasped lightly as a thick hand seized my forearm. "Where are you going, Saraphine?" I smiled reassuringly at my stocky, tuxedo-clad father.

    "Just out to the garden." I said somewhat-truthfully to him. The over-bearing, little twit... "Don't worry about me. Just in need of some fresh air." Ah. Now that's lying...

    "Oh." He gave me what appeared to be an easy smile and chuckled lightly--too much alchohol to really care. "Hurry back, mon cher." I nodded and hurried through the windowed, double-doors that lead to the terrace facing out over our large, well-groomed garden. Good-bye, Father. I turned to give the Chevalier manor one last glance and sighed. Good-bye, house. Smoothing a hand over the waist of my new Oscar de la Renta gown, I sucked in a deep breath of cold night air and began walking down one of the many dimly lit viewing paths, running my thin, gloved fingers over each thing I passed. Good-bye, shrubs. Good-bye, fountain. Good-bye, roses. I shut down my feelings as I clambored through a small gate in the wrought-iron fence. I had to be numb in these last few moments; I couldn't afford to feel or I'd change my mind.

    And I just couldn't change my mind. Not here, not now.

    And then all at once, I was out. I was free. I stood at the side of the road and waved my arms. "Taxi!" One stopped and I climbed in. "Central Park, please." The man grunted and began driving before I'd even buckled my seatbelt. This was different than I'd expected. I wasn't thrilled. And I wasn't scared. Huh. I was just going, just another girl going alone to watch the New Year's fireworks in Central Park. The only difference was that I didn't plan on going back. The driver peered at me through the rear-view mirror.

    "Nice mask." he commented. My hand flew to my face, happening upon the silver sequin and peacock feather mask from the New Year's ball.

    "Oh. Thank you." I turned my attention to the ever-nearing city of sprawling lights, home, sweet, NYC. Those bright lights flew by quickly and a half-hour passed before I knew it. We were here. I handed the man a hundred-dollar bill and hopped out of the cab before he could attempt to give me change back. I was here. I was free.

Good-bye, Saraphine.

 

Reviews

[A. V. Madison]

I like it. Rating 100/100