Vanity

Imagine holding up a champagne glass to your eye, brimming with the finest champagne that one can afford. Look through the glass of champagne at the various objects which have been placed neatly around the room. The world, my room, this idle afternoon, has been tinted rather delicately, with a soft shade of gold around the edges.

I sit at my vanity, and look into the bowl of rosewater that has been placed in front of me. My expression appears distorted, as the light breeze waltzing through the window sends ripples across the surface of the rosewater. The fragrance of the rosewater almost intoxicates me, as my eyes meet my reflection in the mirror, and other childhood memories that have made me feel a little older than I should.

I vaguely remember sitting on my mother's lap, in front of her vanity, on New Years Eve. As she applied rogue, and colour to her lips in a proficient manner, she explained to me that she was to attend a dinner party that night, with a few close friends. I knew that my mother was not one to associate with others, as she appeared to be reserved, and withdrawn from the commotion that society presented her.

Through the plumes of smoke that drifted towards me from the end of the cigarette that she expertly balanced between her slender fingers, I managed to catch her eye. At the time I didn't quite understand the vacant expression in my mother's eyes. It reminded me of a bottomless ocean, a dark abyss, a point of return. I knew that she would come back, but as whom, I was uncertain.

She continued to mask herself, and amidst the smoke, and flurries of movement, my mother began to slip away from me. As she tilted her head to one side, I realized that my mother had transformed herself into a product of beauty. Her youthful gazed penetrated the glass that was the mirror. I stared once again into the core of the eye, searching for my mother, and this time I saw her. She tried to smile, but her smile had been smothered by fear.

The youthful gaze had disappeared, and it left me to ponder whether I too was slipping away. Dark shadows underneath my eyes complemented my unhealthy pallor. My lips were dry, and when I pursed them together they seemed to disappear into a single line, almost leaving me toothless.

Why won't he look at me?

As I took the tortoise shell comb off my vanity, I spotted specks of light reflecting off it from the rays of sunlight that protruded through the window. I closed my eyes for a moment, watching these same specks of light dance before my eyes.

I found myself dazzled by the stream of dresses that cascaded upon me as I entered the main ballroom. I mindlessly circled around each couple, until I was certain that there was nothing to be found. I realized that I had lost myself, as I stood aside, embraced by a tumult of deep violet silk. My copper locks had trailed down past my shoulders, and the discomfort of my corset was maddening. The hours of preparation had withered away in a moment of confusion, yet I was overcome by a sense of calm.

Light flickered before my eyes, as I opened them gradually. The silence was endearing, and I remained completely still. My arms were pinned to my sides, and the tips of my fingers sank into the cushion of the chair that I was sitting on. A warm whisper trailed delicately over my bare shoulder. The exposure of my bare shoulder had caused my purity to be evaded, but I did not falter in drawing it closer, like forbidden fruit in a barren environment. The whisper became more intimate, as it took the form of a caress. However, the intensity of this single touch had failed to reach me. I knew that it had been there. It was there. I felt it, as a sad tale of lost desire traveled the length of my spine.

Why won't he touch me?

Shades of life pervaded the upper terrace, where my room was situated. The tinkering of a piano had filled me with pure bliss, as it mocked the silence that had imprisoned me for the last few hours. I suddenly began to notice small things. A string of pearls lay on my vanity. I was to wear them to the dinner party.

The dinner party.

What use was the preparation of such an occasion. To be noted invisible amongst the patrons? Or to blend in, by practicing senseless acts of common etiquette. I realized that there was no time to commit myself to another life. To do what my mother had attempted to do. My life was dedicated to the realms, not mindless dinner parties, petty conversation, or beauty. Beauty was of no clear importance to me. The price of beauty came with a little too much respect. To not be deemed a social outcast, to belong to a certain class, was truly limiting. It promoted a promise of freedom and fulfillment. But only one type of freedom could be attained. This type of freedom had various restrictions and boundaries.

I longed to be liberated.

The loosening of corset strings, a swift motion unraveling my copper locks, and the ghost of a kiss upon my lips. I fell backwards into oblivion, not wishing for anyone to break my fall. As I fell, the weight in my heart had diminished, knowing that we shared stolen moment together. His touch had revived me, and his closeness was a comfort. I felt safe.

I heard the echo of beads make contact with the wooden floorboards. The string of pearls that lay on my vanity had scattered across the floor. I looked up to see that the window remained partially opened. The tortoise shell comb that I had placed in my hair earlier had disappeared. I searched frantically for it, before I realized, exasperated, our parting words.

Come back to me.

I cannot deny his presence. I had asked him to return to me. To remind me that there was another life. As the clock strikes six, and twilight envelopes my bedroom, I am struck by the realisation that it would be most undesirable for this to continue.

I am ruined.

A/N: Although short, this is the first proper fanfic that I've written. It's sort of a response to my other fanfic which revolves around the distance between Gemma and Kartik. They seem close, but they're miles apart because they've been confined to society's boundaries.

I hope you liked it, and reviews of any kind, constructive criticism, or even random comments are most welcome.

purple.skivvy