The Dance

The dress was iridescent green and blue satin. It moved slowly and sensuously almost by itself as she watched herself in the mirror. The pain of a new high school and no real friends was eased as she imagined the success she would be at the party. Milwaukee seemed so dull and lonely after New York, but her grandmother was socially prominent and able to foot the bill at the exclusive girl's school where she felt out of place, but still happy to be among the elect.

Her great aunt Missy had bought the dress. To her grandmother and her sister nothing was more important than family and social success, and Jane felt the subtle, but omnipresent pressure to join the elite and be popular. Her previous life in New York had been more humble and middle class. Her father's salary as a teacher, while maintaining his social status as a professional, did not touch the expenses of a girl in high society. There was no question of being a future debutante like some of her classmates, but at least she could attend cotillion looking as good as any rich businessman's daughter.

Foundation, eye shadow, eye liner, mascara and lipstick, she felt ever more excited as she applied each magic elixir to her girlish face. Then, slipping into the matching shoes, she was ready. Of course, she couldn't really think that she was beautiful, but she hoped that someone might believe the illusion she was creating. She had a blind date, who no doubt felt equally awkward at the thought of going to a dance where he knew no one, but who would be glad to have her by his side, no matter how she looked.

When they entered the dance, the band was playing loudly and they immediately jumped in with the others to dance as passionately and wildly as they could in their formal attire. Allen was tall, thin and not very impressive. Neither he nor she had much to say, but they could dance and not worry about conversation, a near impossibility anyway, the music was so loud.

Halfway through, one of her new acquaintances from school approached her with the news that Sam, from a neighboring boy's private school, had been watching her and had said that he liked her moves. He wanted to know if they could switch dates and leave the party. She hesitated for one shimmering, gossamer moment, but then, sucked into the glory of having an admirer from afar, she acquiesced and they made the arrangements.

Later, and for many years after, the moral ugliness of that agreement filled her brain in a way that having a date with a cool boy never could have. Sam had turned out to be even less exciting than Allen, and she only saw him once more. However, everyday she had to study with her classmate who had been so casually dumped. Francine belonged to an even more unattainable and admired group, the intellectual crowd. There were three of them and they were always at the top of the class. Jane's shame prevented her from ever making any overtures of friendship.

Now, far from Milwaukee, in California, each year the summons come to the annual reunions. Francine is often in the pictures, still in glasses, but looking confident and successful. She has aged gracefully and seems quite unconcerned about a small humiliation that occurred fifty years before.