‘Yeah.’
A door closes in the hallway, and William’s head turns… and his mouth drops. And I fully respect that reaction.
Bee’s long hair has been slicked back into a tight ponytail, not a single wispy stray out of place. Her black lace mask is already in place across her heavily lined eyes. The dress—must be new because I’ve never seen it—looks painted on. Black satin flows down, skating over her hips and down her legs, ending just before her red-wine painted toes.
Bee smiles shyly at William’s gaping face and slowly turns in a circle, showing off the low braless back of the dress. When she turns back to look at him, he gets up and walks over to her. He reaches out to grab her hips, and she puts up a hand to stop him. ‘Don’t crinkle it,’ she says, laughing.
‘You look…amazing,’ he says. Words have seemingly failedhim. His mind can only process black satin and exposed skin. ‘Can I kiss you?’ he asks.
With a matte red lip, William? Really? But Bee considers it for a moment, then drags a finger down her throat to the spot where her neck and shoulder meet. ‘Here,’ she whispers.
Do they know I’m still here?
I get up and leave unnoticed as he leans over her like a super-tanned vampire.
My own mask is a cardboard and elastic string number from the local party shop, and it bends slightly at the edge when I pick it up alongside my bag. Oh well. At least no one will know it’s me anyway (not so much the mask as the fact that, as far as I can tell, I’m a gatecrasher).
‘Uber’s here, Gertrude!’ Bee says, and there’s no more time to worry about my invite status.
I make nice conversation with the driver in the front seat while Bee and William whisper sweet nothings in the back. She is lying as flat as she can, determined not to get those wrinkle lines across her hips on the journey. The driver is a young man working ride share in addition to his full-time job in preparation for the arrival of his and his wife’s first child in four months. He offers me some Minties while we drive, then rushes to assure me that it isn’t because he thinks my breath smells. I take three, and make a mental note to ensure William tips the young man generously after the ride.
At the top of an austere concrete staircase, the technicolour splendour of a Melbourne sunset over the harbour threatens to burn out my retinas. There are so many people in expensiveevening wear that I feel an urge to grab an apron and start taking drink orders. When instead a drink is offered to me from a tray of champagne glasses, I nearly expire from the thrill. Would it be tacky to take two? Probably.
‘Babe, come on. I want to introduce you to my friends.’ I turn to see William leadingBiancaaway. They don’t look back at me. Now I really wish I’d taken that second glass.
My shiny blue dress feels like too much. It’s drawing people’s eyes, inviting them to stare, a big polyester sign that I’m here all alone. They must know that I’m not meant to be here. That this dress is ten years old. That this mask came from the two-dollar shop. I scan the room and find a nice corner by the window with a little ledge and a great view—of both outside and inside.
William has a hand at Bee’s back, grazing the spot where the dress ends and the smooth skin of her back begins. She is chatting animatedly with another couple, who are laughing politely back. Over the course of fifteen minutes, five different canapes and a refill of bubbles, I watch William steer Bee around the room by that hand on her back. Cheek-kisses, hands reached out to compliment dresses, earrings, makeup. You look stunning! Oh, thank you! That dress is gorgeous; where is it from?
I take a sip as a couple excuses themselves from Bee and William in search of drinks. He uses that same hand to move her towards him, planting a soft kiss on her cheek. She blushes. He’s tucking a nonexistent stray hair behind her ears and whispering in it. I can imagine what he’s saying.You impressed them, baby. They love you, I knew they would.He’s like a kidabsolutely crushing it at show-and-tell.
An elbow suddenly digs into my back and some of the sparkling wine spills out of my glass, dotting my dress with dark spots.
‘I’m so sorry!’ the elbow owner says. She’s a seventies goddess, from the pink velvet wrap dress with bell sleeves to the disco-ball mask. ‘Oh gosh, you’re wearing your champagne. Mish, go get her a fresh glass.’ The man I assume is Elbow’s partner nods and wanders away. She takes the cocktail napkin in her hand and starts dabbing at my boobs, and it’s the most action I’ve had in like a year. She then leans back to inspect her work. ‘Lucky you’re wearing dark blue. You can hardly notice it, I promise.’
‘It’s totally fine!’ I say, but it comes out so peppy that it can’t possibly sound sincere. ‘Accidents happen.’ Mish returns with a fresh glass for me and a white wine for Elbow.
He holds out his glass and we all clink in the middle before taking a drink.
‘I’m Rani,’ Elbow says, extending a hand.
‘Gertie,’ I say, shaking it.
‘How do you know Ben?’ Mish asks.
Ben. He’s Ben! I thought I’d make it longer than half an hour before someone asked me to leave, but it was nice while it lasted. ‘I don’t,’ I admit. ‘I’m technically a crasher. My flatmate’s new partner knows Ben, and they dragged me along then proceeded to ditch me.’
‘Oh, you’re Bianca’s friend!’ Rani and Mish look at each other. ‘We met her. She seems lovely.’
‘Well, I think so.’
‘They’re quite smitten.’
‘Absolutely they are. Thankfully the walls are thick at home.’ They laugh.
Instead of politely moving on, Rani and Mish tell me about their toddler and four-month-old, currently at home with Rani’s parents. It’s their first night out since the new baby arrived. I tell Rani she looks glowing, not sleep-deprived, and Mish nods.
‘Retinol anti-ageing serum by the litre. By rights she should be incandescent.’ Then he gets out his phone for photos, showing impressive restraint given that their two kids are objectively cuter than buttons.
