Alethea's Night

The dance began. Boy girl partners flooded the floor and began dancing the Vietnamese Waltz. This was the first dance of the evening. The party was to last for around 5 hours and end when midnight struck. It was called, “Cinderella’s Ball” and was held each year for those of higher standing in the British community. The rules were strict as rules often were in the 1940s, I assume no one actually attended for pleasure. 

Rule 1. Only dates of the opposite sex, and who are within ten years of your own age.

I was in attendance with a young gentleman caller by the name of, Cassius Velvela. The chances of it going anywhere were immensely low, and not just because I like women. He was shallow and vain. I was more than glad he had hardly spoken to me thus far. We had been there for 15 minutes but the party had only just begun. I was sitting at our table quietly as he chatted with his friend, the short Fabian Credell. His friend’s date was also simply sitting quietly but she seemed unbothered. Although it was hard to tell people’s exact expressions with the masquerade style masks covering their faces. Cassius was wearing a half black and half silver mask. On the black side, the eye was bordered with lightly sparkled silver and vice versa for the silver side. It gave off a ying & yang type presence. Fabian wore a black and red one. The background was black but there were swirl and spiral patterns, in an average but sparkly red. On the short and small build, Fabian possessed it looked like he was trying to make himself seem more imposing, and failing. 

Fabian’s date, a woman named Galina Anahera was wearing a white mask that faded into a light, gentle blue near the ends. She was also wearing a simple and long gown that started out white and faded light blue. Her shoes were sea blue with white butterflies at the toes. Her hair was long, dirty blond, and straight, her makeup matched the whole ensemble. It was beautiful, innocent, making me stare for almost a moment too long before looking down at my shoes to avoid being caught. When I saw my shoes I felt disgusted. Lost in her radiance I had forgotten this was an upscale event and I was forced to dress far from my normal. I was wearing a black and purple dress. It was black at the top with spaghetti straps as well as short, off-the-shoulder sleeves. The belt was black and sparkly placed slightly above my waist, connected to that was a long dark purple skirt flowing down to my ankles. I wore simple black heels and a gold necklace that hung down to my collarbone. My mask was a dark purple with a crown shape at the top middle. The eyes were bordered with black that flowed out to the ends in flowery patterns. My hair was light brown, short, and put into a neat braid crown.

After a suitable amount of time had passed I turned my gaze back to the dancefloor and watched as the first dance ended. Some couples continued to dance while others made the rounds and mingled. I watched as everyone talked and danced, I felt so completely out of place. These people exuded confidence and seemed at ease, I felt so tense and unnerved that all I wanted to do was go home. No one gave notice though. Everything continued, it made me feel invisible which was both a relief and confusing. Even my date continued to chat happily paying me no mind. It was then that I recalled the second rule.

Rule 2. This ball is INVITATION ONLY, even your date must also have an invitation.

I didn’t feel like I fit in, despite the fact that I did have an invitation. I guess, “invitation only” didn’t keep out “the riffraff” as it intended. I may appear on the outside like one of these primped and popular, high society ladies, but on the inside, I was more akin to a commoner. For the billionth time, I entertained the idea I had been adopted. Yes, I looked a lot like my mum and dad but the lifestyle they lived, the lifestyle generations had lived, didn’t interest me in the slightest. Even as things moved forward this ball remained the same, and in a way so did high society. For hundreds of years, those in high positions have lived like this, never changing the rules, or even trying to. I sighed quietly. 

Soon I would have to do something, whether it be mingle or dance. I opted for mingling since it gave me a chance to move around without being close to Cassius, but in the end, it would depend on what he felt like doing. I couldn’t make a fuss, not here not ever. Realizing this, I chose to wait a few more minutes before interrupting Fabian and Cassius’s conversation. 

Eventually, it had been 10 minutes and I was forced to move or be gossiped about. I turned to Cassius and when it was appropriate said, rather meekly, “Cassius? May I interrupt?” He turned to me, “Yes, Alethea?” ‘Ugh,’ I thought. ‘I hate when people use my name.’ “Would you like to go greet some other friends?” I posed the question so as to completely leave out dancing. He thought for a moment, glanced at Fabian, then said, “Yes, we probably should. Perhaps, Fabian and Galina will join us?” He said that last part more to Fabian than to me. Fabian nodded. Then, neglecting to ask his date what she wanted, he stood and went to her. He held out a hand for her to hold, and she stood. I felt a pang of jealousy when their fingers intertwined but moved past it to annoyance when Cassius held out an arm for me to hold. I smiled fakely and took it. ‘Here we go,’ I thought with dread, then we were off.

We went from table to table chatting idly with couples we hardly knew. We talked about who had come, who was with who, and the cold weather. It was boring, to be frank, but that was fine. Better to be bored with boring people than to be one of them and happy. Once we had talked to the younger couples in the room it was time to speak with our parents. Fabian and Galina left to go speak with Galina’s mum and dad. Cassius and I set off in the opposite direction to look for his parents. When we found them I smiled and listened as they all talked happily. However, my mind kept drifting to places I would rather be. Whenever his mum would ask me something I agreed almost unconditionally, only half hearing her words. I didn’t need to truly listen, for there were only so many things that could be talked about in a place such as this, most of it was gossip. Eventually, we left and went off to look for my family. My kid sister had also attended but not being of age yet, was alone, and stayed with my parents. When we found them Cassius took the reins again while I spoke quietly with my sister, Ovida. It was slightly more interesting than talking to a stranger but left the same bland feeling. Ovida was certainly one of the many, a sheep blending seamlessly into the flock.

Finally, the time came though. It was time to dance. I knew it was coming but that didn’t make it any better. Not only was dance unbelievably boring to me, but I was also dreadful at it. Cassius asked for my arm once again, though, and we made our way into the crowd. We swayed and stepped, twirled and dipped paused and bowed to each other, then repeated. The same dull meaningless practice again and again, for one simple reason: Appearances. 

Rule 3. All those in attendance must dress formally. Anything less than black-tie formal will be escorted from the premises.

That rule always made me laugh. They made everything sound so complicated it would have been easier to simply say, ‘Formal Attire. Dress well or leave now.” But of course, these people disliked simple, as they would dislike the real me. I was a living example of how environment is only a contributor to who you become. Then suddenly a voice snuck into my thoughts. In only a whisper I heard, “Alethea. Alethea!” I was yanked from my thoughts and whispered back, annoyed, “Yes?” “The dance is over!” Cassius mimicked my tone. I glanced around, everyone was leaving the dance floor and taking their seats. “Oh,” I said unintentionally aloud. Cassius sighed, and lead me hurriedly off the floor and over to our seats. “Why are you always somewhere else?” He questioned, more to himself than to me. I ignored him and turned to face the stage at the end of the room. The coordinator was up there preparing to make a speech or some sort of announcement. 

There was both a man and a woman standing on the stage. The man stood behind a microphone, the woman stood behind him, more of an accessory than a person. I felt bad for her, but she didn’t seem to care; that only made me feel worse. Seconds later Galina and Fabian returned making me turn for a moment, but not wanting to stare I turned back to the stage. Eventually, the man began to speak. “Good evening everyone! I hope everyone is having a wonderful time so far…” He trailed on for a long while but I kept zoning out. Finally, he finished by declaring that dinner was to be served. As soon as he said it I realized how hungry I was. All that dancing had tired me out physically but I was spent mentally too. Any people made me tired but this type especially.

The food was carried out by waiters and waitresses, dressed neatly, and moving in a pre-determined way. The food being served was as fancy as you would assume. The brilliance of the chefs was the one thing I loved about this life. The food served was always the best around. It came in large portions too. It was frowned upon however to eat too much so I would have to be careful. When the wait staff got to our table they set down 6 different trays, 1 larger than the others. The bigger one contained an entire ham with everything on it. The smaller platters had various side dishes, such as Corn, Pied and Mashed, Yorkshire Pudding, and two others I didn’t recognize. My stomach felt so empty. We all dug in. I had to watch myself though, make sure to eat small bites and take it slow. 

When the meal was done it had been 2 hours and I was so full I actually felt happy. It was around 11 now and the ball would be concluding soon, much to my relief. This experience had so many perfect examples of what this “high-society” life was like. So many envied the rich but it was nothing to be jealous of. The people felt so empty, the events were tiring, and everything you do is under a microscope. You can’t be who you are, especially not if you are a woman. Worst of all though was knowing that this would always be your life, there’s nowhere to run to. Death almost seemed a sweet release to me, but I was not that cynical. Instead, I relentlessly hoped and waited for the day when something, anything changed.