by Veronika Lazabal

Created on: July 17, 2008

Just a Party?

The red dress or the black? Not the red. It's low cut, and short. Inappropriate, really. The black one looks a little more conservative. Probably the better way to go, considering the circumstances. It's just a party, no need to be so damned nervous. There, see, doesn't that look nice? One step at a time. This used to be so much easier. Not too much make up, now. Don't want people to talk. Maybe staying home would be a better idea. It's too soon. After all, the ink on that divorce decree is hardly dry. Yes, better to stay home. It's the proper thing to do.

Of course, he had never concerned himself with propriety, had he? No, he didn't care if people talked. The pointed looks at church. The quiet snickers in the grocery store. The hushed whispers at work. None of it was of any concern to him. Why should it have been? He was perfectly happy living his double life. The good wife at home, the lustful nights away. The carelessly hurtful words. The purposely hurtful bruises. It's just a party. Now was as good a time as any to start living again. Yes, it's important to go.

Deep breaths. It's just a party. There was a time when the ritual of dressing for a night out was actually pleasurable. Of course, that was ten years ago. Before red dresses seemed taboo. Before shadow and liner became tools for hiding the evidence of his drunken rage. When laughter came easy, and friendships were numerous. Had the time for friendship and laughter passed? Was it to late?

Red lipstick? No, better stick with the peach. Red lipstick was for a different kind of woman. Now where is that hair clip? A sedate up- do. No need for anything crazy. Not at this age, anyway. Yes, a nice French Twist. Just a hint of perfume.

Would it ever be possible to look in that wretched mirror and see something other than someone's wife? Ex wife. Mustn't forget the ex. It's official now. How liberating. Two tiny letters. Who'd have thought they held such power?

No longer someone's wife. No longer someone's fool. No longer someone's punching bag. No longer not good enough. No need to apologize for everything. No more excuses. No more letting someone else dictate what happiness is.

No, the window for laughter hadn't been shut yet. Have to hurry. Don't want to be late to this party. Forget the up-do. Tonight is a celebration. Life begins again right now. Loose and windswept hair. High heels. Red lipstick. And the red dress to match. After all, it's just a party, right?

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