Early November
Now, do you remember when I said earlier that I didn't need a partner to take me to company dinners, balls, and social gatherings?
That I often went to these events solo?
Well, let's just forget that I said that.
This all changed on the night of the Brisbane Corporate Ball, which was a grandiose annual evening event of opulence magnified—the type that would have seen Jay Gatsby coming out of his reclusive state to find the whimsically epicurean Daisy Buchanan sipping her Champagne.
Even Nosferatu would have slipped away from the mist and the shadows to attend this splendid, ritzy, and classy affair, which attracted the crème de la crème, or the upper echelons of society in Brisbane.
Sorry, Frankenstein, you're not invited. This swanky soirée was marked as platinum class, VIP only. No riff-raff.
Held at the Brisbane Botanic Gardens on Mount Coot-tha, which boasted over fifty hectares of immaculately manicured flora and fauna, the alfresco venue certainly did not fail to impress.
The main area, where guests were mingling, was surrounded by mature trees and lush foliage plants, including bamboo. It was lit by an assortment of decorative lights, including oriental lanterns, fairy lights, and other types of creative luminous arrangements.
A few eager butterflies in expensive gowns and suits danced to the greatest hits of all time, thanks to the live music played by Summer in December, an Australian band that recently won a national television talent competition.
"Det er helt fantastisk!" Sven's ocean eyes sparkled with dazzling fascination and his pink lips opened wide when we sauntered toward the exquisitely enticing garden.
I noticed elaborately decorated buffet tables that featured an assortment of international cuisine, as well as an overpopulated drinks bar under a marquee. The catering staff, clad in pristine uniforms, dashed around, politely offering drinks and canapes to the guests.
Journalists, photographers and camera crew from Brisbane Extra television news, Channel Ten News, and Channel Seven Night News were busy interviewing corporate heads, local politicians, and a few other celebrities.
Young, leggy female models, who came as accessories for aging industry magnates with thick wallets, snapped selfies, no doubt for their Instagram profiles.
I rolled my eyes at that woeful sight, which served as a reminder that I could not change the world alone.
Where were the Wonder Women who wore the shield of confidence and shook the industrial real estate market? I scanned the garden and sighed with relief when I saw Grace Nielson, the Mayor of Brisbane.
She ruled the council with an iron fist, and supported equality at all levels. She was with her partner, Marianne Cortez, a renowned artist whose work was recently showcased at the Queensland Art Gallery.
"This place is fantastic," Sven murmured, as he escorted me toward the security at the entrance, who checked our tickets.
My eyes shot like piercing arrows at Sven, who could have been Giorgio Armani's greatest creation ever. The magnificent Viking wore an original black label Armani tuxedo, with a peak lapel.
His hair was perfectly combed and styled, accentuating his taut cheeks, pouty mouth and aristocratic nose.
A small gust of wind blew in my direction, which delivered Sven's delicious scent—a combination of lemon and clary sage, blended with cedarwood and cumin.
"Damn, you're so beautiful," I whispered into Sven's ear.
"Speak for yourself, your royal hotness," Sven teased with a captivating smile. His eyes lingered on me as I placed our tickets in my handbag, after they were verified.
I wore an off-the-shoulder Vera Wang ultramarine silk dress beaded with the most delicate pearls and crystals, cut and styled with the sartorial elegance that rose beyond my expectations of a good ball gown. The dress matched my Manolo Blahnik Hangisi blue satin pumps.
My hairdresser/makeup artist created Bayalage blonde highlights, threaded my eyebrows, and perfected my catlike eyes, which reminded me of a bad-ass she-villain from a James Bond film.
"I guess I'm not too shabby," I responded to Sven. "Come with me. I want you to meet my colleagues."
I guided Sven toward Gary, Walt (who was now our new head of sales), Kurt Schwartz, and a few others in the management team, as well as their partners.
Larry was not present, as he already transferred to that distant office in a magical kingdom far, far away. It would take him two connecting flights to get here, and he no longer had any business dealing face-to-face with clients.
I felt that Mary should have been at the ball, but she was too junior to receive an invite. Nonetheless, I already had plans for her to attend next year's ball.
"Ladies. Gents. Lovely evening," I greeted my colleagues and their partners with a smile, as I sashayed with Sven toward them.
"Eva, as usual, you look good," Gary complimented. His wife nodded with a smile, which was a stark contrast to her usually sour look.
"Gary, I would like to introduce you to my partner, Sven Hansen. Sven, this is my boss, Gary Cross and his wife, Leslie," I began, and continued the introductions, as the group shook hands with Sven.
The team mingled with some of our key clients, who also introduced themselves to Sven.
Instead of feeling awkward about the age gap or financial difference between Sven and the older men, we both felt dignified that he was among them. After all, he was an ambitious young man who had hopes, dreams, and a brain.
Throughout the evening, I observed Sven conversing with our top clients, and they understood each other.
They joked. They laughed. They spoke the same language. Sven talked about politics, the financial market, technology trends, cars, and boats.
Sven Hansen knew his shit.
He was a man from a humble beginning who was making his way into the world.
I took a big risk, gambling my heart on this guy, but I had that strong gut feeling that I placed a good bet on the right one.
I didn't see him just in that present time frame. I also saw him in the future. An older Sven, with the maturity and experience that life had to offer, was my vision of our future together.
Later that evening, as I walked back from the restroom to the garden, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
"Eva King. How's your evening?" A familiar voice resonated, competing with the music from the band.
There he was. My ex. Ben Adams was perfectly dressed and polished, as usual. Not much had changed.
"Ben, what a surprise! How's life treating you?" I exclaimed.
"I'm doing well. See that man there?" Ben pointed at the federal minister for foreign affairs, who was guzzling down his champagne.
"Yes, that's Luke Dixon. He's probably going to win again in the next election," I commented.
"I know." Ben smiled.
"How?" I asked.
Then it dawned to me that Ben's dream of entering politics had come true.
"No way!" I quickly blurted, as Ben gave a slight nod and a knowing smile.
"So, when do you start working for Luke?" I was curious.
"Next month. I'll be working closely with a few of our country's ambassadors on making some changes," Ben revealed.
"Congratulations, Ben! That is great news," I cheered.
"What are you up to these days, Eva?" Ben enquired.
"Oh, the same old stuff. I'm seeing someone," I admitted.
"I saw. I mean, I saw you with your man earlier tonight. I'm happy for you," he commented.
"Thank you, Ben. I should get back to him now." I patted Ben's shoulder and was about to turn.
"Eva?"
"Yes, Ben?"
"If you're ever in trouble, you can call me. We were never meant to be, but I believe we're both good people, and you've helped me out before." Ben's words breathed a sense of honesty.
"Thanks, Ben. You really are a great guy. You deserve to be happy." I meant what I said, because he truly deserved the best.
I was never in love with Ben, and you can't force love.
Sven was different. He was my beloved.
My life was a sonnet, with him as my inspiration.
"Eva, can I have a word with you?" Gary's gravel voice caught my attention, so I span around to face at my boss.
"Sure, Gary. Is everything okay?" I asked.
"Well, it depends on how you look at it," he replied.
I should have known. Gary never gave a clear answer for complicated situations.
"Eva, about that transfer form you filled out," he began, but paused with a sigh.
"Did it go through, as we had discussed?" I needed to know the answer.
I had requested to transfer to the market research department in Oslo. Kurt and Gary seemed reluctant at first, but they were going to push through with it.
Gary's silence to my question was disturbing.
"Gary? Will I get the transfer?" I was burning on nervous energy.
"Eva. No." His mustache twitched.
Then, at one fell swoop, my world had crashed.
"Why not, Gary? Why not?" I demanded Hudson Engineering's managing director for an explanation.
"Eva, we're closing down the Oslo office. It simply isn't bringing the profit that we expected. The office is too small, in terms of any future investment, and this not our priority," Gary answered.
His answer was logical and made perfect sense, but I was running high on adrenaline and wouldn't give up.
"Gary, you know I can do this. I can lead the office and bring in the big bucks. I promise you, I can make it happen," I pleaded.
Gary's eyes pitied me. He placed one plump hand on my shoulder, in an attempt to bring balance to my raging soul.
"Eva, I know. However, Oslo is not part of our road map. I'm sorry, but this is business. I wish you would reconsider staying with us here," Gary explained.
"I won't, Gary. You know why," I whispered, as my eyes pointed to Sven, who was animated in conversation with Walt. I was sure he was explaining a Norwegian joke to Walt, who responded with rumbling laughter.
"I know." Gary's eyes emanated pity.
"What can I do, then?" I thought out loud.
"I'm sure you and Sven will figure it out. You're both smart and resourceful people," he advised.
I sighed and rubbed my arms. I was feeling the wind's gentle chill blowing my way.
"Are you sure you won't consider staying?" Gary suggested.
"No. I've already decided to take that leap of faith and jump in the deep end," I asserted.
"I understand." Gary nodded, responding to my assertion. "Eva, in my office, I have an open door policy for you. That means that you are more than welcome to come back and work for me any time."
"Thank you, Gary," I replied.
"I have to speak with Gordon Emder," Gary stressed, as the head of Emder Enterprises walked past us.
"Sure, go ahead." I smiled.
Gary patted my shoulder and marched toward Gordon.
When one door closed, surely another door would open. I was disappointed, but not heartbroken.
Gary was right. I was resourceful and somehow, I would find something.
I was going to hand my resignation letter to Gary on the coming Monday and pursue life's adventures with Sven.
I walked toward Sven, carrying my rapidly beating heart on a silver platter.
I was about to serve it to him, as an act of a fool's love.
My foolish heart.
I was going to ask Sven to marry me.
A/N: Don't you just love these Manolo Blahniks? Like Eva, I'm a fan of pretty shoes.
On another note, what do you think of Eva's plan to propose to Sven? I've had this debate with a number of friends before on the topic in general, and I stand my ground that it doesn't really matter who does the asking.
Enjoy the shoes!