Behind the Lights

Great, what have I done?

You know the feeling when you walk into a conversation and people just turn away? Either you have done something or they're cheating on their spouses.

Except this was the whole room. So it was me.

The snickers and whispers began to start. I knew that this was about me. Everyone whirling around in long black dresses carrying flutes of champagne. Either there was a nasty rumor about me or he did something again. Or both. How many infidelities can one woman take?

He was nowhere to be found. Drunk again, I thought. He probably had to go get some water splashed on his face and put on a fresh shirt before being handed a cup of coffee and escorted back into the crowd by the puppeteers. Everyone knew his name and they all thought they knew his secrets but they were far worse than anyone could have imagined. Far worse than I could have when we met.

So I kept my head held high, had a flute in my hand, just to have something to do with my hands. Would the shaking make me drop the flute or prevent my nervous twitches in a room full of fabulous people? I glided through my dress although I felt exposed. My hair was bright across my back in the gold lighted room. I wished it would just grow and consume me so I could disappear from this event where no one could ever see me again.

I had to admit, every time I left one of these functions without raising my voice and causing a scene was a win for my tolerance. I marched upstairs to search for him because I knew his secrets had gone beyond worse and because I wanted to hide away from the world.

I knocked on the door and the man in the tuxedo said I couldn't come in but I raised my voice so they had to let me in. They wouldn't want any hysterical woman causing a scene for a fundraiser. She didn't even know which one she was at this week anyways. If you wanted to give money to cancer kids, why are you spending it on champagne?