Mirifical Catharsis

Chapter 2: The Jazz Age

Saxophones and banjos resonate throughout the streets, but cheers and the blare of dancing heels clicking swiftly on the cement grounds emit and managed to surface time and time again. The trotting of horses and jiggling of the carriages behind them are made way for by pedestrians. The robust smell of cigarettes fills the humid air along with the laughter of youngsters. The blazing sun has begun to set, yet the heat lingers in the air.

"How An Old Ailment Caused the Death of Matteotti! Read about it here...!"

"And how much for the Rouault? I like this one more, much less color..."

"C'est un âge d'or. Ne manquez pas Joséphine Baker aux Folies Bergère."

"Look at them. Must be Americans. Millionaires and schoolteachers."

"One Brandy Crusta and two Gin Rickeys! Make 'em quick!"

Lilian trots down the lively streets with white cross strapped pumps on her feet to match the brand new frock that drapes down her pale skin. A wide smile stretches out across her barely powdered face as she clutches onto the lacey purse.

Wealthy and penniless blokes alike admire her alluring beauty, but it is the resonating brightness that makes everyone's heads turn. It has been made obvious to her at this point, that isn't a shock. She flourishes at every man and grins at every young boy, continuously making her way forward with gleaming eyes.

The local color doesn't differ as she enters a fairly large cafe that takes up a whole streetcorner. The floor is patterned black and white. Elegant yet simple chandeliers hang from the dingy ceiling.

Lilian hops over to the counter where young barmaids chatter and chime and as she leans forward on it, she grabs the attention of one.

"Hello! One Blood Orange Bitters, please." She places the tip of her shoe on the bar rail, clicking her nails on the wood as her eyes wander.

"DuBouchett or Stirring's?" The blonde stops before reaching one of the two bottles.

"Stirring's." An unfamiliar voice approaches. "Make that two," An adolescent-looking woman waits alongside Lilian with a cheery look on her round face. "Have you ever been so ossified and ended up in a canoe in the middle of a lake?"

Lilian giggles.

"No, but I have ended up in another city." She says. The rep-lipped woman turns to face her, tossing a large, dark curl back to reveal the dramatic, silver earrings which Lilian momentarily admires.

"Edith Fortier. I take wooden nickels and love your purse." Edith reaches out her gloved hand with a beaming smile.

"Lilian LaCroix. And I thank you dearly.''

The drinks are quickly handed to them and after dropping coins on the counter and briefly thanking the lady, Edith leads her new friend across the room.

"LaCroix? Oh, you're the daughter of that..." She fails to find words but Lilian quickly nods, taking a sip from the cool glass in her hand. "That's splendid! Let me introduce you to a couple of friends. They're sitting over there. Nice people. Awful drunks!" She makes Lilian laugh and admire her buoyant and energetic nature. She is quite relieved that at the very least someone is talking to her, and she is glad that it is someone like Edith. She's always admired people like her. Full of life and joy.

"Ah, I've been looking for some new company in fact."

"Yes, my dear, the city can get lonely. Olga, Emelie." She points at two women sitting at a crowded table which they walk over to. They have quite opposite characteristics Lilian notes. One, Emelie, lithe and joyful looking and the other, Olga, more rounded with motherly features. Lilian takes a seat, smiling and greeting them both. "They both work for a fairly new fashion designer downtown."

"That sounds like berries! J'adore tout ça. Designing, the arts, literat-"

"Oh, darling, then you'll love Guy over here. Walter... not so much. He's a broker." Edith cuts her short to gesture at the two men at the table. Walter, a man that looks to Lilian to be quite pretentious from the very stiff, upright position and expression, rolls his eyes before fixing them back onto the paper. "But Guy is a painter!"

He must be older than 19-year-old Lilian but from the clean-cut suit and clean-shaven face, he looks almost as young as her.

She gasps with a smile, leaning forward on the round, glass table. "Yes, that is exciting! What do you paint?"

"Mainly Surrealism. I do love touching on cubism as well. Mon papa..." The dark-haired man takes a quick sip of his drink, also leaning towards Lilian who eyes him with a joyous expression. "...he was a sculptor. I took a go at it but too real for my liking and of course, being the fool that I am, I moved to beautiful Paris and pursued painting."

"C'est magnifique! Is that working out so far?"

"Oui beaucoup. But I don't want to be a bluenose like Walter here. What do you do... Lilian?"

"Oh, what a cake-eater." The nonchalant, distracted Walter murmurs under his breath. He and Olga seem to be slightly older than the rest.

"I moved from Saint Nom La Breteche to study here. I'm a student. Will be in two months."

"What are you majoring in, dear?" Olga taps her now tiny cigarette on the glass dish, adding more volume to her ginger locks, their circularity complimenting her wholesome features.

"Littérature. Well, hopefully. I soon have to pass an 'entry examination' as they call it. A little worried to be frank. It has never been more than just a mere hobby for me."

"Actually...!" Edith exclaims, looking around the place as if trying to find someone or something. "We have a friend who's a writer. Uh... Sal." She slumps back down on her chair in failure.

"He left. Meeting." Walter empties the cocktail glass and stands up, glancing at his watch. "Anyone want drinks? Dames?"

"Mimosas!" Emelie pulls out a cigarette and places it between her short yet pouted lips that are dramatically overlined with product. Guy quickly rushes to light it. Lilian's eyes follow him as he does so while placing her hands on her lap. Her nose is long and pointed. "Lilian? You're getting double tonight. A warm welcome."

"Oh, actually, I'm not quite sure that's a good idea. I've gotta hit the books soon. Cet examen- I've heard- is gonna be quite demanding. My aunt as well, she doesn't like me staying out late and I... okay, maybe one drink."

Soft cheering from the group makes her smile as she finishes up the Orange Bitter to make room for the next tall glass of whatever they would make her drink. Edith removes her gloves, slipping them into her clutch and Walter puts away the newspaper.

One drink becomes five and soon, count is lost. The cafe has been left behind for a bar, and then another. By the end of the long night, Lilian's head spins and yet she still continues to dance. Back at her father's she had to master many skills and, being a young lady at such a time, dancing was one of them. But those many lessons weren't what occupied her mind much. Often times, she would throw her arms in the air and simply spin as adrenaline-filled souls around her would cheer.

Until the world would shine and glimmer.

Guy would quickly catch her if she tripped over herself.

The Jazz boomed. The drinks were plentiful. Elated Charleston and quickened Waltzes were danced. Sweaty bodies bumped against each other as they continued their way forward. A bedazzlement of outfits and headpieces. Cigars and cigarettes on every corner, on every lip.

Edith was the most intoxicated out of the few. Emelie parted from the group at some point during the fun and it didn't take long for Walter to call it a night and head home.

But as the night ages, the promise of it turning bitter and cold strengthens, the aching of the morning after flushing all the giggles and Jazz out of Lilian's memory.