The Masquerade

It wasn’t the kind of thing she normally went in for. Not with this crowd. This crowd really wasn’t her thing. Her people were far more interesting, certainly. Artistic types. Playwrights. Musicians. These people were, well, country club people. Not her sort at all.

But the invitation couldn’t be refused. She’d wanted to, truthfully. Make some excuse, plead family obligations. But Big Ed said no, they had to attend. They’d known the Birthday Girl too long, he said, and you don’t turn 50 everyday. They had to make an appearance. They would duck out early at least.

What a bother, this whole costume thing. She had to admit that S. looked charming, the “biergarten maid” outfit showing off her curves and gap-toothed smile to full effect. The men seemed to love it. Lucky she herself had access to the theater’s wardrobe. The “contessa” was a brilliant choice. Black lace always suited her glacial blonde-ness. She couldn’t help comparing her own elegance to the camp and frivolity around her. That ridiculous cowboy and cowgirl. The silly man dressed as a nun. At least the couple doing Frida and Diego showed some wit. She doubts half the guests even recognize who they are.

Lord, don’t tell me there’s a speech. What’s Birthday Girl going on about? Oh, yes, her family. She’s always talking about her family. Like they’re so special. Newsflash: we all have family issues. Does she ever hear me bitching about my family? Now, there’s a family to bitch about. But I have the decency not to focus on myself all the time. Sometimes, girlfriend, it’s just not all about you.

She gives Birthday Girl a hug, compliments her speech. So heartfelt, she says. Very touching. Wonderful party! Big Ed catches her eye and does an eye-roll. Checking her watch, the contessa sees it is too early for polite leave-taking. The music starts again, and as Birthday Girl gets up to dance with her husband, the contessa drinks her third cup of coffee and watches.

What does she see in him? He’s so…too much. He thinks he’s so great. Smug. With his country club friends. She’s changed, since she married him. With the big house and the trips to Europe. Insufferable, really. So damn ‘supportive’ when I was off the wagon. So earnest. Thank god I bailed doing that speech at the wedding. That’s what gave me the relapse – I just couldn’t face standing up there the next day. The fact that I showed up at all was a huge sacrifice on my part.

The table around her is littered with half-empty glasses, crumbs, and the obligatory disposable camera. Someone is pointing it at her now. She declines to smile. How did she get seated here? Ah, these are the co-workers, she realizes, so she‘s relegated to former associate status. That’s rich, she thinks. She should have known, that first day Birthday Girl walked into the office and the boss volunteered her as welcoming committee, there would be…something, between them.

I was just a peon then. She was the new ‘star.’ Galling, really, considering she had no real experience. I had to pay my dues. It took me years to work up to the title they just handed her on day one. Who showed her the ropes, who told her where the bodies were buried? I sweat blood for that place. I put their needs before everything, even my family. But I had to go when I saw they would never give me the respect I deserved. I’m much better off now. I’ve made so much progress. My boss loves me.

Finally, time to leave. The countess grasps Birthday Girl’s hands, looks deeply into her eyes. Thank you so much for inviting us, she says, we wouldn’t have missed this for the world. Let’s do lunch soon, she offers. She turns, and leaves the gathering, sweeping her black lace skirts behind her, breathing a barely-concealed sigh of relief. She never looks back. As she slides into the front seat next to Big Ed, she says: The things we do for friends.