I looked forward to the evening with enthusiastic anticipation accompanied with an ounce of anxiety. To calm my nerves and ease my eager heart, I arranged to meet a friend for a few glasses of Prosecco before the start of the party. In between sips, we caught one another up on what had transpired in our lives since last we met. Between bites of Manchego drizzled with lavender honey and grilled sausages over a nest of lentils we went from the recent past to the distant future and where might our wanderlust may take us next.
All too soon, the appointed hour struck, and it was time for us to begin our ascension to the party. Up a series of steps, we climbed, and continued up a hill until we reached Upper Fifth and followed the tree-lighted avenue to the base of The Tower, a tall, dark monolith; the tallest tower in the Emerald City, and, at its conception the tallest of its kind throughout the West. We entered The Tower and remarked on the unimpressive remodel that had compromised the skyscraper's original lobby before stepping into an elevator that took us mid-way to our destination, The Club. After a transferring of elevators, we had arrived at The Club.
In line, I was greeted by a pair of friends who were just as fashionably late as we were. At the registration table, I was welcomed by another friend who did not even bother to ask if I were on the list and simply handed me a trio of drink tickets. Another flight of stairs awaited to usher us into the main ballroom.
The ballroom was stifling crowded and near chaotic. A long line snaked around the perimeter of the sharply angled room, past a buffet table, and meandered behind a judges' panel and eventually led to a illuminated bar carved of ice, back-dropped by an infinite view of the Emerald City. No less than a minute after my entrance I ran into another friend, a fellow cocktail aficionado, who, I later discovered, with little surprise, was one of the judges for the evening's cocktail competition. Then, a pair of neighbors came our way to let us sample a few of the libations that were being offered. Several seconds later I felt a tap on my shoulder and was reunited with a childhood friend, and after a ring of introductions I was descended upon by yet another friend, this one a former neighbor who brought a work colleague with her. They joined us in the serpentine line and another round of introductions were made, shortly after I received a text message from one more friend wondering as to where I was. More kisses hello, more welcoming hugs, and more layered introductions, and thus so the evening continued.
Ever the social hummingbird, I flitted from one circle to the next, and to the next, and on to the next. With a French Manhattan always in hand, I darted between servers balancing trays laden with bourbon based concoctions to pay my respects to elevated bartenders, gossip with stylish ballet enthusiasts, encourage mischievous sommeliers, deflect blatant social climbers, intrigue savvy real estate developers, tease prolific financiers, toast successful writers, listen to passionate legal wranglers, entertain glossy tech talent and dish with fashionable web marketeers. The clink of glasses, sparkling laughter, and genuine conversation surrounded me; in this atmosphere, I was entirely in my element.
And then, I saw Him. Intrinsically I knew He would be there. No raven, nor sparrow forewarned me of His arrival. Inside, I knew, the one person, amongst a swarm of hundreds, that I so longed to see and yet also dreaded to see, would be there. His eyes, the same as I remembered them, of the bluest steel sparked with golden flecks of amber. His disarming, near smirk of a smile that carried just enough charm... just enough to make you wonder if His thoughts at any given time were naughty or nice. His gentle hands, the same hands that once softly held mine across a candlelit table not so long ago...
What to say? What to do? How to act? There was no avoiding one another, and, as protocol required we exchanged salutations, automatically I continued to weave a further web of introductions including my friends that immediately surrounded us. And though, for most of the evening, social obligations drew us apart from one another, we invariably kept drifting our way back into each other's presence. Perhaps it was his intoxicating smell, of evergreen, musk, leather and tobacco leaf, or the sound of his lofty voice that kept pulling me in his direction.
Whatever the case, with a heart ever so heavy, I chose to keep the discourse light; and as we made conversation of inconsequential things, I could scarcely look into His penetrative eyes for fear of losing the last ounce of my reserve and revealing, with a simple glance, all that my heart ached to say to Him, instead, in between silent sips of my potent beverage, my downcast eyes gazed at the casual way He left the top button of his light blue Oxford undone and the confident, nonchalant manner in which he wore His stripped tie loosely knotted. It was thrilling to be in such close proximity to Him once more, but simultaneously nerve-wracking. Joy. Relief. Excitement. Wonder. Sorrow. Disappointment. Grief. Sadness. Hope. All such emotions, and more, bundled together, cacophonously presented themselves to me all at once, while I found myself having to deftly handle dozens of interruptions, inquires and introductions by unknowing, well-intentioned fellow friends.
As fate would have it, I was not the only one with a heart brimming with turmoil. Another dear friend was experiencing a similar set of emotions under somewhat parallel circumstance. She and I removed ourselves from the party and sought refuge in a secluded spot by the staircase to share our angst and worries with one another. And as tears trickled down the cheek of my tenderhearted friend's soft face, I attempted to console her with kind words and the sincerest of embraces, and that is when I heard His hearty chortle of a laugh and a profusion of memories rushed to the forefront of my heart unbidden... of a morning when hope was found, and a night not so long ago when hope was lost. Were it not for her tears, and the resolve to stay strong in order to be effectively supportive of her, at that point, who is to say if tears of my own would stain my face.
That night, on the edge of it all, high above the Emerald City's scintillating skyline, surrounded by scores of friends and allies, amongst a throng of hundreds, it seems no matter how high, or how far I went, one pervasive feeling haunted me: profound loneliness.
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