Charity Ball

       Do you ever have an event coming up, or something you want to do, and you imagine all of the ways it could go? You spend days anticipating it, fantasizing what it will be like, raising your hopes and expectations of it to impossibly high levels, and then it happens, and it’s disappointing? Or even worse, terrible? 

            Yeah. That was Saturday night for me.

            Fred and I had been playing telephone tag for the past few days. I was putting together the final arrangements for the charity ball on Saturday, and Fred had a lot of meetings with investors. I did talk to him long enough on the phone on Thursday that I got him tickets to the ball, with the understanding that we’d get to catch up then.

            I’d been anticipating Saturday since then. I’d imagined how Fred would catch his breath when he saw me in my new dress, how we’d sit together for the dinner and afterwards dance all night with each other, how he’d linger as I finished up my hosting so he could ask to go on a walk despite the late hour. And then, we’d finally talk about that day at the court house eight years ago and where we were now. Or, worst case scenario, we’d at least have a few minutes to find a time next week to meet.

            But life rarely turns out as imagined.

            With all the last-minute things to do, Saturday flew by and before I knew it, the ball had started. I helped Dad and Eliza greet everyone, though really I was getting away from Will as I waited for Fred to arrive. When he did, it took all of my power not to follow him out to the party immediately and leave the reception to Dad and Eliza. I stayed long enough for the Dalrymples to come so that I could say hello to them. But after that, I flew to Fred’s side, just as he was finishing up a conversation with someone else.

            It wasn’t the most intimate setting, but we did get to talk for about fifteen minutes. Just about small, insignificant things, and yet, with where we are, no topic of discussion is small. He seemed warmer than when Will interrupted us at the coffee shop, and perhaps it wasn’t as dazzling as I’d imagined, but it was solid and real. Our conversation was natural and there was that connection that we’d always had was still there.

            But then dinner started, and to my dismay, I found that Ruth had undone my seating arrangement. I had seated Fred next to me and Will at table five, but Ruth switched them out. Now I was stuck with Mrs. Dalrymple and her daughter, Dad, Eliza, Ruth, Will, and three other affluent business associates. 

            Obviously, I was put out, but Will seemed just as animated as ever. It wasn’t his fault that Ruth had switched his spot and Fred’s, and I couldn’t make drama at such a huge social event, so I tried to smile and nod and go along with the conversation. However, I think Will could see that my attention hadn’t really been on him the whole time, because he brought up something I’d never suspected before.

            He said that he felt he had known me for longer than a few weeks. When I told him that was nothing but romantic nonsense, he pressed the point and claimed that it wasn’t. Apparently, he’d heard about me years ago and thought he’d really get along with me. I was confused, because I couldn’t think of anyone who we both knew in the past who would have bothered to share any stories about me. 

            Then Will leaned into me, his lips brushing my ear. He said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than when I realized that pretty girl I saw in Aspen was the girl I’d always wanted to get to know.”

            I pulled back and looked him in the eyes, trying to read his mind and failing miserably. Despite my pleas to tell me where he’d heard about me, Will refused, a smirk on his face the whole time.

            When I came to accept that Will was keeping that information to himself, my gaze fell back to Fred. Only this time, his chair was empty. I caught sight of him dashing out the door.

            Although to anyone else it might have seemed like nothing, I felt that he’d seen me with Will, and must have misinterpreted it. Cursing myself for letting my guard down, I followed after him, catching him at the elevator. He had that stiff posture he gets when he’s angry and I didn’t have to guess much why he looked that way. Our interaction when a little like this:

Me: Fred! Are you leaving already?

Fred: Yes, I have a lot to do.

Me: But they’re about to start the dancing. Isn’t one dance worth staying for?

He seemed to relax then, the warmth of earlier this evening returning. But before he could answer, Will came through the door, letting me know that my dad wanted me to come back so we could start the dancing. He especially made sure to note that Dad wanted me to start off the dance with Will. 

After this, Fred hardened again. The elevator arrived, and before stepping in he said, “No, there’s nothing here worth staying for.”

Then he stepped into the elevator and left. I was too far away to get to the elevator (at least in my heels) and stop him from leaving. I knew I had to go after him and explain everything, so I immediately pushed for another elevator. And then I had this conversation with Will:

Will: What are you doing?

Me: Going after him, he completely misread everything.

Will: You don’t have time to do that!

            By this time, another elevator arrived, and I ignored Will as I went over to it, but he put his hand in front of the door so that it wouldn’t close.

Me: Stop it, Will! I need to catch him before he leaves!

Will: I get you have this…this crush on him, but Anne, he doesn’t even seem willing to fight for you. Would you want a man like that?

Me: Better than one who tries to control me. Now let go of the door so I can go down!

I pushed his hand out of the way, which he didn’t fight. By the time I made it to the ground floor, Fred was nowhere in sight.

I went back to the ball, but I hardly remember any of the rest of it. Except for the fact that I refused to dance with Will. If he had just left me alone, if he were really a friend, none of this would have happened.

I’ve tried calling and texting Fred, but a girl can only reach out so much before it turns creepy and stalkerish. He hasn’t picked up or called back or texted. I don’t know what to do. But I feel like if I explained things to him, and if he understood, then maybe things would work out between us. I really hope he opens up to me and hears me out. When he’s angry or hurt he closes up so much, but I think if I could explain, then maybe…

I just…I don’t want to lose him again.