Chapter 7: Happy Birthday
He arrived twenty minutes early, on purpose. Meliah looked splendid in a cascading rose-colored dress. Like the rest of the room, her attire was covered in some form of lace or ribbons. She fluttered toward him when he came through the door, showering words of thanks and gratitude for attending her birthday festivities.
"It is my pleasure," Beaux answered softly. He placed a glittering diamond tiara on her head and handed her a bouquet of crimson roses. She gasped in amazement before throwing her arms around him. "Happy eighteenth birthday, Meliah."
"Thank you so much!" she exclaimed, "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!" She beamed at her reflection in the silverware and gyrated slowly as to assess herself from every angle.
"I doubt it," Beaux replied before he could restrain himself, "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. And I wish it was your birthday everyday so I can have some excuse to give you such gifts and adore you as though you were not special all the time."
She drew back immediately, almost thrusting him back. He looked at her sincerely, but her eyes had darkened dramatically. Her face was flushed with color – but whether it was from anger or embarrassment he could not tell. She made a sudden fuss about the arrangement of the candles in the garden and left him in the hall – empty and disappointed.
When the rest of the guests arrived, Meliah played hostess and walked between the groups, greeting and chatting mercilessly. She seemed determined not to encounter Beaux again that night. But as the music began and the guests abandoned their tables to dance, she was left fully unprotected by the company of others.
Before she could hurry into the kitchen, Beaux grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the ballroom. When the pianist began the waltz, a slow, tragically romantic piece by Chopin, Beaux led Meliah expertly across the floor, her feet plodding heavily.
"I am sorry," Beaux finally murmured after a long, awkward silence. "I-"
"I thought you had resolved this!" Meliah interrupted with an angry hiss, "I thought you had…that you had organized your feelings." She said "organized" as though it were the not the word she was looking for. She glared at him with disdain, and he could feel his eyes watering from the intensity of her gaze. She shook her head a few times as though this turn of events was still too shocking to believe. He could not help but sigh.
"Did you honestly think I could throw my heart out? Can you ever comprehend how difficult it was for me to feign indifference? Attempting to stop myself from wanting anything more than your friendship?" Beaux asked dramatically.
No!, his conscience bellowed, you mustn't do this. You have to stop! If you don't, you will lose whatever bond you shared with her…You promised…Don't let her know…
"My goodness, Beaux, listen to yourself! Why are you trying to make me the antagonist? Why are you making me that wicked girl who does not care about the people she hurts? Beaux, I care about you – oh, please do not look at me that way – I really do! I do not want to hurt you. Never... But, we are friends, are we not?" She eyed him accusingly through a slick curtain of tears and let out a prolonged sigh. "I just cannot understand. I mean, why me?"
"There is not enough time in this universe or enough tongues or enough passion to even appraise the scope of your majesty, my dearest," Beaux let the word slide off his tongue, and he savored the feeling. "How do you measure the ocean with a teaspoon?"
Meliah blushed and attempted to mollify the vivid redness with the coolness of her fingertips. Beaux was a talented speaker; there was no doubt. Every word resonated and echoed in her ears.
"No," she spat reluctantly, "I love Andante, and I will always love him – and him alone!"
"You can love whomever you desire."
"What do you want from me?" She stopped dancing. He could see she was flustered by his sudden frankness.
"Nothing, absolutely nothing," Beaux answered serenely.
"Then why are you doing this to me?" she sobbed.
"I wish I could tell you," he whispered back. He moved even closer and gently pressed his lips to the back of her hand. She seemed at a loss at what to do. Beaux saw the confusion proliferating within her wide eyes. He slowly lowered his head until they were about an inch apart. He could feel her inhaling feverishly.
"Meliah?" a startling voice called. It was such a familiar sound! Meliah's pupils darted in the voice's direction, and Beaux watched as they expanded in bewilderment. He knew who it was.
Then instinct took over. Beaux's blood was screaming as it gushed, firing in the confine of his veins. His outspoken conscience now fell silent, and he could not stop. He pulled her into his embrace and brushed her forehead with feathery kisses.
Meliah opened her mouth as though to speak, but she was silent as her flailing hand made a futile attempt to stop the onlooker. Andante, with an unfathomable expression, turned around and disappeared into the cold night.
Time did not stop as Meliah believed it would; Beaux stood rigid, but otherwise sangfroid. Tearstained and heartbroken, she looked at Beaux murderously and said coldly, "Everything is my fault. And I should have known…I was being childish and selfish. I wanted your attention and your friendship. I didn't want to have to lose you. I've said this all before, but I didn't have the courage to pull through that time. But this is different! Beaux, you did that on purpose-" She was so pitiful, so convinced. "-You knew he was there."
Beaux could not find anything to say.
"I hate you," Meliah finally whispered. She was not making eye contact. He could only see the top of her head. A curtain of long, black hair obscured her eyes.
"You don't mean that!" Beaux found himself shouting. He grabbed her shoulders with his shaking hands. The guests around him stopped dancing, attracted by the commotion and the instruments fell silent as they anxiously listened to their conversation.
"Yes, I do mean that," Meliah replied icily, lifting her face so he could see her bloodshot eyes.
Beaux's hands dropped to his sides and she walked out of the room. Every man and woman watched as he fell to his knees and wept. He did not care who was watching anymore.