Lost in La-La Land: A Collection of Short Stories

ACROSS THE ROOM

And I know that everything is less than ideal. They told us as much about our lives.
But, in the second of time, it is the closest to ideal I have ever seen. The lights on the walls are dim, misty, and pale; the air is warm, inviting, and comfortable. Even the music, in all its glory, is near perfection in loudness and song choice. I feel as nearly perfect with my clothing and appearance as the night is perfect.
I have my hair curled, but I didn't like the curls, so I tied up the ringlets, strangling them and pushing them up against my head until they were suffocating beneath the weight of the standards I have for it. I arranged the compact and imprisoned locks over and over again, trying to strategically-placed and freeze them. I was unsuccessful for near a half hour before I pin the last, unyielding curls into place and letting them go. It turned out better than I thought, so I chose to go further with my appearance and put on a little makeup.
At first, I put on a complete layer of foundation, concealer around my eyes and on my chin, eyeshadow, mascara, eyeliner, blush that let lead us my cheekbones and that was all. I looked at my face caked, thicker than blood, and makeup, took a towel, and immediately wiped it clean until nothing remained. Going at it again, I used a very minimal approach only mascara and eyeliner. I wasn't fully satisfied so I added blush Before walking away from the mirror. I was going to leave it at that whether I liked it or not.

I had, then only to pick out clothing. I took nearly 14 dresses and skirts shirt combinations out, tried them on, and brought them back. Either they were not fit for the occasion or I simply didn't like the look that they had. After all the changing I resulted to putting on the white, lightly billowy dress I had tried on first. The easiest part of the entire process was picking out my shoes. I just grabbed my sparkly heels and walked out of the house. I was finished being there.
Now I am here. There is another room that I have walked into; it is filled with its Lights, music, heat and people. They all combined into a lovely mix. My effort, although flawed and nearly failure, pulled itself out of the rubble and succeeded into the situation. As I look around, a friend comes over and we converse. I laugh not fakely but in good mood. I'm determined to get an out side Opinion on our conversation. Running up to two men I asked my question, big and boisterous laughing. Only one replies as the other sinks away. I return to my conversation lighthearted and bright. I just want to be heard. Or not. Do I?
The amount of the evening becoming more ideal increases as a boy, or a man I should say, catches my attention. He is short, for a man, no taller than me, shoulder perhaps from what I can see. but he looks firm in his stance, yet relaxed. Sitting in the setting of huge haul with eyes glued to his conversational partner, he laughs with fervor over his Partners comment. They bid each other fairwell and his partner moves pointedly on to the next person on his social list. But this man that stands just yards ahead of me, holding Loosely to a beer bottle with one hand in his pocket, is more amazing than I've ever seen. His gait portrays humility that is uncompared.
I have no motivation to spur forward, nor hideaway. I simply hold my ground, resting it in the midst of the room.
Curiously, a woman comes up to him beating him once, twice, three times before he took her hands and held her close to his chest. The girl was larger than both me and him combined and her whole body shook as her face went from Rage to tears to rage again.
I cannot pull attention away from them to look away even though watching was so uncomfortable. She seems to scream but no one hears. I am the only one who sees, I am sure. I'm the only one who knows what torture he seems to endure. Her face! His face! He is so sad.
He grabbed her hands and pushes them away from him. He tries to walk away as she claws his clothes and nearly falls on him. There is a multitude of words exchanged by her. He says little. Mulling over thoughts. Nodding slowly, he takes one last dance with her emotionlessly as he moves.
Walking away I lose track of him as she makes an unnoticed scene, screaming and bawling. Walking to the Punchbowl I pour myself a drink. I drink it down. I pour another drink. I am then world around to face him. A man, tall and thin, who had a sweet, lovely face. He had a Charming personality, I knew him once long ago. We didn't talk of the past. We got to know the new. We had a great time. He asked me for a dance. I agreed.
We danced the dance well. I loved it. And him. He loved me back, he said. At the dance concluded I looked for a spot to sit. I sat. The man! He was here. He gave me a smile. We both said hello. We both said goodbye. I lost him in the Maze, but that was all right. My love came back. He brought me out on the floor. We smiled and we're happy. It was lovely. It was sweet. We began our third dance, I was committed. I needed no other partner. We settled into strong step then the music changed but the song stayed the same.
We fell out of Step. He didn't love anymore. He said goodbye forever. I didn't see that dance partner again as I went to sit down against the wall.
My sweet, a friend, she came to me and Stood Beside Me for six songs. We missed 6 dance sitting by the wall. We didn't care. We lived well by the wall and we tried to just live. We wanted to survive the dance. I just wanted to be there. She wanted a partner. She wanted to dance. I didn't want to dance anymore.
But just as the seventh dance began he appeared. The man of a man from man from before. His bruises were covered by a layer of film. He smiled to both of us. We smiled back. He asked to speak. I agreed. She walked away. We talked. We laughed. It was good conversation. The room around us talked, danced, walked, and started another dance. That's when he asked me to dance. In the second song in the middle of it, I accepted his hand.
We danced that song, and four more. Then he said it, in the fifth song. He said through a tear, I love you. I love you too. We dance that whole dance. We danced for more. There were times we missed a step. There were times conversation fell dry. There were times we took a break to get a drink. But we made it. I had never loved you so much. I have never wanted anyone so much. I never wanted another. I didn't want to ever leave.
When the dance began, a new feeling washed over us. Not tired or restless. Trying to do new things, we build each other up. Our dance had improved. We danced across the floor to the place is friends that. We parted for about a moment to visit with our friends. With his and with mine. We both are parted and words are exchanged those with each other different from those with the others.

We went back to dance but we stumbled a little bit. From there I could see two paths. One where this dance was our last. We parted in tears. I wanted no other partner but I could not just go home. I could not go on until my ride came even though going would be all I wanted.
The other path was clear. We could dance the rest of the dances for the rest of the night. We would always trip. We would always stutter. We would always stumble. But we would always make ourselves better. We were always being better. We could always love each other. That was something I would fight for.
​There was no giving up on this dance. No matter how tiring or difficult we found it to be. Everything then seemed perfect when we begin the next dance in harmony. Everything was perfect and beautiful. And I know that not everything can be because I know that everything is less than ideal.