Perennial Festivities

I'm rubbing my new satin ribbon in between my thumb and index finger. Mother said some ribbon around the hem of the puff sleeves was exactly what this old dress needed. It's a hand-me-down from my sister and the once snow-white fabric has become ivory with the years its waited for me in the closet.

I've never been to a ball, but since I became sixteen years of age in February, Mother said I should be introduced into society as the tulips were reintroduced to our gaze. She's much too poetic for my taste.

I keep telling myself to stop rubbing the ribbon so that I don't dirty it up with any oil on my fingers, but I can't bring myself to. I'm mesmerized. It's the most brilliant white I've ever seen. I can't think of one sight in nature that could possibly match it. Mother wouldn't tell me how much it cost. I better make it worth her trouble and get up to dance... but that's the thing with being introduced into society. As it is my first ball, I only know a few people here outside of my own family, and they are all near Jurassic. Mother and I visit a few of the older couples in town every week, you see. They long for company, that's why they keep attending balls, even when they can't do much beyond sit and chat. But all those new voices and opinions to chat with- it makes them feel as if every day can still be an adventure, full of life. If those of the slowly disintegrating generation are still trying to live as fully as possible at their age, if they still find great happiness in these things, oh, why can't I bring myself to get out of my chair and dance joyously for those who cannot anymore?

I stop rubbing the immaculate ribbon. I fix my worsening posture and sit up in my chair. I resume from this new height, but now with a profound effort to look extremely dignified whilst I pet away the fatally slow minutes. Mother and father have long since abandoned me at our table. They were whisked away by old friends and have forgotten all that's happened in the time that's past since they last saw each other. Including me. Including my sister. I start to think about her, sitting here in her dress. I start thinking about the last time she wore this dress. Three years ago, she turned sixteen in March. The Springtime Ball was her first, too. Throughout her childhood, she dreamt of attending a ball and finding her true love. And it was everything she had wished for. His name is Henry. She walked right up to him as soon as she saw him, complementing his jacket. It was her favorite shade of green. They were married a month later. I never understood how she could be so hopelessly romantic until I saw her smile that day. I've only seen her wear green since.

Henry had only been in town at his Summer residence, getting it ready for his parents to join him a month later. So I only see my sister in the Summer. Otherwise, she is miles and miles away. And my legs are only so long.

She had wanted to attend a ball more than anything, and now I'm in her place, surrounded by men in jackets, patiently waiting until I get to see her again. There are quite a few young men in jackets. Well, they're all in jackets, but that isn't my point. Wait a second, one man stands jacketless. The vest that is left to cover this uncouth man is completely unbuttoned, and there is no sign of a cravat to be seen. No one seems to be nearly as scandalized by this as I rightly am, not at all. He's surrounded by his friends, making them all laugh with ease. He hadn't even attempted to tame the unruly, dusty brown curls encroaching on his face, like dusk trying to swallow up the sun. I should walk up to him try to understand the sheer madness that makes up this boy. I'm out of my seat.

What am I doing? What am I doing, what am I doing, what am I do- hold on for a moment. I sit back down. Well, I should sit back down, but I can't. I'm mesmerized. No, no, I'm scandalized, remember? Right, I'm walking over there with such speed because this immature man-child needs to be made aware of society's rules. He feels my gaze. He looks up.

I immediately stop in my tracks, nearly tripping from the dramatic shift in velocities. I summon up all of my efforts to regain some poise as I resume walking as slowly and elegantly as I can muster, and whatever confliction of emotions and struggle that must be occurring on my face causes him to smile. From my chair, it seemed to be a smile like any other, but I am now close enough to appreciate every single tooth. I had stared at my ribbon long enough to know his pearly grin is exactly the same color. I force down my own smile as I remind myself of my mission.

His sea of friends parts as if by an invisible force, without noticing that I am coming their way. He looks at me with counterfeit worry but very real confusion. He doesn't even have the decency to hide his grin when he should very well know that I've walked over to scold him. I'm quickly thinking of how to start off my berating, as my mind was unexpectedly preoccupied during the walk (jog) over here. But then, of course, now I'm looking into his eyes. And I can't fight my grin any longer.

"Your eyes are the most perfect shade of green". He asks me to dance, and we dance joyously for all those who can't anymore. I can't quite remember what had upset me so much into pushing me across the room, but I'm glad it did. I'm glad I'm looking at his teeth smile at me while I laugh with ease, and his wild curls bounce with every step.