The Gala

“She'll be here, I swear by it!”

My sister is so encourageable. I don't know when's the last time I went to a gala. But I knew from the start, this was the party of the year. I couldn't help but know it. My sweet loving sister told me over and over from the time she asked me to attend with her. “It's going to be the party to start and stop all parties in one!”

And, until that night, I would have disagreed with her until I was blue in the face.

“Wyatt, you're just as handsome as ever!” I heard a voice call out.

“Oh my, is that Wyatt?” came another.

They were all around me. Women of the debutante circle. Dressed to impress, single and ready to pounce. Each was there for their own ambition, pride and justice for whatever last husband or boyfriend couldn't provide.

Sequins and hair pieces danced across the room, glorious sights of color. And dotted in between, a tuxedo, like mine, watching them swirl and beckon each handsome brood to her calling.

Beckon they did, like that from that movie with the dancers and the elephant. It was a night like that, without the impressive dancing girls and old men swooning at each skirt that flipped in front of him.

But it was, by every definition, a party like none other I had ever seen.

My stomach was queasy with all of the spinning from every color of the rainbow in front of me. As the waiter passed by, I grabbed two glasses of champagne, downed one, and set the glass back on his tray.

“Wyatt, honey, don't get drunk yet. We just got here,” my sister warned.

Ah my darling little rose petal of a sister. So naive, so young was she that night. Her brilliant, beautiful smile played with the black lights that were set low above the tables in every corner of the room. Her brisk red hair from a box shone with brilliance. Her green eyes gleamed at all of the excitement. She was a child again, at her first arcade, like we had when we were kids.

And here I was, six foot four, mouse brown hair, muscular enough, but not a body builder. I stood there like a lump, holding my second glass of champagne, not know which way was up.

I have to admit, seeing the excitement in her made me happy. Extraordinarily happy in fact. It was her that finally brought me away from the uneasiness of being there, wrapped in a monkey suit I didn't want to be in, with shoes that felt like one would fall off while the other clung to my ankle for dear life, strangling it.

“So where is this 'she' you keep mentioning?” I finally asked her.

“She'll be here! She has to be. It's her party, and it would be incredibly rude not to appear at her own gala!”

“And does this 'she' have a name?”

“The Countess.”

I stood there, looking at her. “Countess?”

“Yes,” said my sister while she stood on her toes surveying the crowd in the ballroom.

“Countess...of what?”

She shrugged. “Didn't ask. We got an invitation. So who cares?”

I knew better, but I did it anyway. “Sheila, seriously. We were invited to a party from someone you don't even know??”

Sheila glared at me. Yep, I knew better. She pulled away from me, anger raging in her eyes. “Don't you scold me! Do you know how hard it is to get an invitation to her gala of the year?”

I shook my head. Until this moment, I didn't even know this was a thing.

“Christ, Wyatt. Look around you. Get the stick out of your ass for one night and just have a good time.”

She was right. She was always right. Damn, was she always right. The party, happening right in front of me, was exuberant, joyous, and not one person there had a care in the world.

Sheila nudged my elbow. “Hey, there's your guy from your work, uh, Kris? Karl?”

“Keith.”

“Right, anyway. There's someone here you know!”

I followed the direction she was looking and pointing. Sure enough, my best friend from high school stood there, smiling like an idiot and having a great time. He made eye contact with me and waved so hard I thought his hand would come flying off at my face.

I placed my hand at the small of Sheila's back and headed over there. She stopped me. “No, you go ahead. I'm looking for Tina. I'll find you later, k?”

I smiled at her, kissed her cheek and she disappeared into the crowd.

“Holy hell. Wyatt! I'll be damned. How the hell did you get an invitation?”

“Sheila drug me along.”

“Well hell man, want an old fashion? They serve only the best alcohol! No cost, too!”

That did sound good. A sweet wondrous concoction sure to bring me back to my high school rave days. I nodded instinctively, and Keith picked up his hand. A beautiful server girl came over and listened intently. Her eyes met mine and she smiled. She nodded at Keith, gave him a quick wink and bounced away.

“Bro, sit man! Oh man you are in for the time of your life tonight!”

All through the night, the colors danced around us. Every now and then, Keith drug me and his other buddies out on the dance floor. We danced for what seemed like hours, the bourbon seeping through our veins, the night feeling lighter, the world seeming to just finally disappear.

As we were tripping the lights fantastic, my sister joined the swirls of dancing colors, their dresses flipping and flying in all directions. We guys answered the call, dancing our own sides, a synchronized swing to everything that no one had learned, but we all somehow knew each step to. Even I knew the dances being regurgitated from our souls, as if I had been doing them for years and years.

Then the spotlights, the colored lights, they all just shut off.

The music hushed to that of a hummingbird, sweet, quiet but still exasperated.

I finally saw 'she.'