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21
Amsterdam, February 26, 2022
Andries
It’d have been easierto just skip the whole ordeal and stay home, but I know if I do, Dan or Elise would show up at my doorstep in record time. I’m left with no choice but to attend Dan’s damned party. If anyone asks, I plan on saying I’m dressed as a poet from the nineteenth century when in reality it’s just the most convincing outfit I could put together from my current wardrobe without looking like a fool. I had only needed to purchase the mask; a black solid piece that covered everything from my eyebrows to the tops of my cheeks, to make the look work, so it wasn’t as much of a pain in the ass as I had expected.
Paired with a white, tailored button-up shirt, black pants, and matching jacket, I realize that I look more like a secret agent, but it’s only one night anyway. Elise had been right about one thing; making an appearance would help the rumor mill die down a little bit. I had to focus on that positive aspect if I was going to make it through the night without cursing my entire existence.
The party is everything I’d expect from an event thrown by the one and only Dan O’Brian. Lights are low, red and black scarves and tulle thrown over exposed lights and lit candles on numerous surfaces, casting the entire place in a sort of dreamy ambiance. I know that it’s dark to help to obscure everyone's identities, but it also lent an intimate, romantic aura to the place that is hard to deny.
My plan is to greet Dan and Elise, hopefully avoid Tatiana, maybe have a drink, and then leave. I know my friend will be too busy playing host to keep tabs on me too closely, so a simple appearance should be enough to convince him that I had joined the gathering fully. I have no idea what anyone I know will be wearing, so all I can do is let them find me. I quickly see that I’m underdressed compared to most of the other guests who glitter in the low light. Some of them went as far as wearing full costumes, looking like regency aristocrats, others have more mystical attires like fairies, and there are even some who have come looking like gods and goddesses from various mythologies. The outfit that I had hoped would make me less noticeable will probably do the exact opposite here. I’m the outlier.
Oh well. There’s nothing to be done for it now. I can’t exactly transform myself into some prince or duke, so I’ll have to make the best of my simpler ensemble. I order an Old Fashioned from the bartender, who is wearing a badger mask, and I sip it while leaning against the bar, watching the crowd. I just need to find Elise and Dan; then, I can be put out of my misery and leave.
My idea had been to blend in well enough, but to also be recognizable enough that the positives that Elise had mentioned would still benefit me. None of this mattered if no one knew who I was, so when I catch a few other students' eyes and get a familiar nod or handshake in return, I know I’ve walked that line perfectly.
My sister finds me first, and of course, she has Tatiana in tow. I curse inwardly, but this was to be expected. Elise wouldn't let the more nervous Tatiana brave this kind of gathering alone, but I had just hoped Tati would stay home since she didn’t have an actual escort. No such luck, of course.
“Andries,” Flower Girl breathes. “You look very nice.”
“Underdressed compared to you,” I respond, smiling as warmly as I can manage. It’s not Tatiana’s fault that her presence annoys me, that’s all on me. “You both look lovely, of course.”
That isn’t a lie, either. Elise is dressed in sage dress with a matching mask. Embroidered silver leaves and vines coming from the bottom of her floor-length skirt and up to her chest lend at least a touch of costumed detail to her ensemble.
Tatiana, on the other hand, had taken more of an advantage, and is dressed head to toe like a fairy. Her long, soft hair is tightly coiled and pinned on the top of her head, huge, diaphanous wings extending from her back in glittering white and gold. Her dress looks like it’s made of soft pink clouds, gathered at her waist, and spilling out from there. She’s beautiful, young, and everything so many of the women here wished they could be. Once again, I feel a flash of frustration with myself. Why couldn’t I have fallen for this girl, who would have made my life so much easier? Radiant Tatiana; innocent and well connected, would be my perfect social match. It’s too bad that I find her endearing, but not at all someone who sparks my interest. I guess I just love to make things harder on myself.
This close, I can see the heavy highlight on both girls faces, like the softest sheen of frost. Tatiana smiles happily at my praise, holding up her hand so I can dutifully kiss her knuckles before releasing her. Elise looks less than thrilled, waving me away when I go to embrace her.
“No thank you, Andries,” Elise says diplomatically. “I can’t have everyone knowing that we are related. It’ll ruin my mystique.”
I roll my eyes, and Tatiana laughs. It’s light, like the tinkling of bells, and I can’t help but to notice the way her body sways toward me when she does so. If I hang around these two for too long, I know I won’t be able to get rid of her. As much as I like Tatiana’s companionship, a setting like this is bound to give the crowd the wrong impression of our relationship. The masks, the music, the dark atmosphere; it all lends itself to something seductive and romantic, and that is everything I wanted to avoid with Tati. The fewer mixed signals the better.
I keep the conversation light between the two of us, keeping everything as surface level as I can while scanning the crowd for anyone that might get me out of this situation. Some of the party guests are dressed up so extravagantly that it’s almost impossible for me to tell who they are, but there is one distantly familiar face across the bar: Paul Erickson, a published author who lives in the area. He and I had been introduced at Dan’s red-light party last year. I remember how he’d encouraged me to stick with my craft, saying that it was better to pursue it while I was young and still passionate about writing. I wouldn’t consider us friends, but he’ll work well enough as an excuse to ditch my sister and Tatiana.
I excuse myself, and I can see the disappointment on Tatiana’s face. I try my best to not let it get to me, but I can’t help it. I wish there was someone else for her I knew would treat her right, so she wouldn’t have to pine after me for so long. I know a lot of it is my sister’s doing, but there is genuine affection from Tatiana too.
I slide through the crowd until I’m beside Paul, who is dressed in a falcon half-mask. There’s no recognition on hisface at first, but it quickly clears, and he shakes my hand enthusiastically.
“Andries! What a surprise,” he booms over the noise of the crowd. “How are you, friend?”
“I’ll be better when I’m done playing dress up,” I admit. “But otherwise I’m well. Besides the media dust ups that I'm sure you’ve heard about, of course.”
Paul shakes his head. “I don’t pay much attention to that sort of thing. It clogs my mind up.”
“Good, then I certainly won’t fill you in,” I comment, and Paul chuckles. “How’s your writing going?”
“It’s going as well as can be hoped, I guess. I think I need to travel some. Just get away somewhere new and clear my head. Everything just tends to become gray and melancholy when I write these days.”
“I understand that,” I commiserate. “I’m working on a memoir of my own, but there have been quite a few moments of upheaval in my life lately making things more difficult, and it always seems to stop my writing in its tracks. I’m finally at a good pace now, though, so I hope I’ll be finished sooner rather than later.”
“You seem to live such an interesting life for someone so young. I guess that’s the reason why all these gossip rags are so obsessed with your family. Here,” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card, pressing it into my hand. “This is my agent's number. I’m sure a memoir of yours would sell well among those who are fascinated by your life and the lives of your family. Give him a call once you finish edits.”
Feeling a rush of adrenaline from the idea of being published, I grin widely; the movement pushing my mask up just slightly. “Thank you, Paul. I really appreciate it. I’ll definitely be in contact.”
“Good luck. It’d be great to have someone that wasn’t older than sin on the label with me.”
We talk more, mostly about what Paul hopes to do once he finds a source of inspiration again, but I can’t help but look for Dan as we do so. Showing up here was pointless if he didn’t see me, and I know he will never take my word for it. I have to see him, or this was just a waste of an evening.
