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I hear a car stop outside my manor and then I hear the doorbell chime.
Esther comes into my room to tell me, “Jared is here.”
The white evening dress I am wearing accentuates every curve of my body and I can see him breathe in deeply, as I, as graceful as I possibly can, walk down the stairs toward him. By the time I reach him, he is smiling broadly. He looks as handsome as ever, maybe a bit more distinguished than usual.
My mum and Sean take photos and then Jared leads me toward his Jeep.
He opens the door for me and, as usual, he buckles me in. I watch him, as he walks around the car, and I thank the universe for bringing him into my life. I am so happy.
The Winter Ball is in the hotel in the village and we dance most of the night away. No matter how fast the music gets, Jared keeps me close to him, keeping the rhythm, and strangely every song change, no matter what the beat, is a slow dance.
We talk to Sarah and Connell for a while. Sarah reminisces—I am sure for my benefit – how the last time Jared attended the ball, with her, one of the board members got so drunk he was knocking into tables and knocked over a few of them in the process as well.
I cannot see Jared’s parents anywhere. After all this time, I still have not met them. I only know what they look like from photos I have seen around their home. I would have thought this was a social event they would not miss, especially so because it was an annual fundraiser organized by the Club. Jared smiles and talks to the older folk, and later I hear him explain that his parents are away on a romantic get-away, explaining how disappointed they are missing the ball this year. Afterwards, Jared asks me, “Are you ready to go?”
“I am.”
Hand in hand we walk to his car and then he opens my door for me. I softly kiss him on his cheek while he leans over me to buckle me in. Turning his head to face me, he smiles sadly. When he pulls back, he kisses me briefly on the tip of my nose and then he closes the door.
When we drive away from the hotel, he says, “I hope you don’t mind if we go to my home first, I don’t want to say good night just yet.”
“I don’t mind,” I say, not wanting to say good night yet either. “Why do you seem so sad, is it because the last time you were at this ball, you were with Sarah?” I ask hesitantly—my insecurities getting the better of me.
“Elizabeth! You exasperate me.” He sighs exhausted.
“Don’t be rude. It was an innocent question,” I retaliate, sorry for asking.
“It was a stupid question.”
I gasp. “No. It was not stupid.”
“I have told you already that I lost my heart to you that very first day I saw you. You’re sad, hopelessness attracted me to you.”
“That’s just mean,” I say softly.
He glances at me apologetically, and then concentrating on the road again, he says insistently, “When I went out with Sarah it was more out of habit than love. I suppose I did think I loved her at the time, but we grew up together and everybody always assumed we would be a couple, so it was almost like a natural progression.” His tone changes, becoming almost pleading. “I am trying to explain, but I cannot find the right words to describe that when I saw you that first day, I was unbelievably attracted to you, so much that although I didn’t want a relationship with anyone ever again, I could not stop myself from falling in love with you.”
We stop in front of his house, without me having noticed how we got there. He turns toward me, taking my hands into his. “Did I tell you yet that you look exceptionally beautiful tonight? I felt honoured to have you by my side and I most certainly was not sad. I am sorry if I seemed preoccupied, but you see my dad is on a ‘business trip’, and my mum has gone on a girl’s weekend away to Spain, which explains their absence at the ball. I suppose I always knew this day would come, but it is still a shock now that it is happening. They have given up on pretending to be the perfect couple—not a good sign, do you think?”
“No,” I whisper. I am remorseful for being so selfish and thinking his melancholy had something to do with Sarah. “I am so sorry.”
He smiles forlornly. “Let’s go in.”
We get out of the car and once we walk through the doorway into his home, he leads me to the kitchen.
Wordlessly, he starts to make hot chocolate—not from a tin. He melts chocolate, while he warms milk on the stove, and then he blends it together, stirring slowly. He pours it into two mugs and then he hands me a mug where I am still standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
I look up at him while I take a sip, tasting a hint of vanilla. “And you said Sean’s hot chocolate was nice?”
“It was. Honestly.” I can see he means it, although I cannot understand, but I do not ask.
“Your parents can’t be that bad, they have raised you well. You can cook, you can make hot chocolate from scratch, you are mild-mannered, you are tidy, and according to the world’s opinion you should be a rebel, but you’re not.”
A melancholy radiates from him. “We all handle things differently. I had to learn to be independent from young. Aaron and I are very close, because I always had to look out for him, and I suppose I never had any choice in growing up early to be a responsible person.” He reaches for me, just as I take the last sip of chocolate, and takes me by the hand. Looking pensive, he turns me to face him. “I want you to phone your parents and ask them if you can sleep at Jane’s house tonight.”
I look at him puzzled.
He says softly, “I don’t want to seem needy, but would it be wrong to say I need you?”
Slowly I move my head from side to side.
