An Evening Rosé

[WickedCadrach]

For the first two minutes, Madison stood at the head of the small community center classroom, facing the door with a soft smile that threatened to break out into a giddy grin. It was the sort of look one gets while staring down at a wrapped Christmas present, knowing full well what lies under the paper but playing along until the moment comes to finally throw pretension aside. A touch anxious, she gave her hands something to do by smoothing out the red dress she'd bought for the occasion, an elegant wine red number that hugged her hips and showed enough skin to keep the atmosphere fun. Because that's what she was. She'd decided that months ago. She was smart and charming and fun, and she could prove it, damn it! She had been looking forward to hosting the wine tasting, her own little community event, for weeks, and now it was here—she was here. But as the posted start-time slipped by, Madison was the only one here. 

Five minutes past.  Madison stepped off her mark and took a slow turn about the room. She adjusted the empty glasses, shuffling them by their stems and inspecting each for the smallest flaw. Next she gave little tweaks to the plates of cheddar, pecorino, and gruyere. She waved away a fly that had begun to circle the cool dish holding apricot and herbed goat cheese. She even came so far as the bruschetta platter lying in repose beside the citadel of gleaming wine bottles she'd selected for the event.  It was a touch more than she'd budgeted for, but Madison wanted to make an impression. This was her new home and she was a new Madison.

At ten minutes, she poked her head into the hall, a lock of her auburn hair falling loose from an artfully messy bun and over her ear as she poked up the corner of her glasses and gave a concerned look to the empty, tile hall, her eyes drawn toward the glass lobby wall and exterior doors facing the rising moon beyond. She had the right time, the sandwich board she'd spent the better part of an hour drawing the tasting event's details on—in fun and enticing calligraphy, no less—confirmed it. 

Madison picked at her fingertips, forcing herself to stop twice as she checked the event page online. Thirty-four people had marked that they were interested in coming. Thirty-four profile pictures of varying clarity and fidelity staring up at her with smiles that now seemed to say, 'You didn't really think we were coming, did you?' 

Fifteen minutes. Madison uncorked a bottle of Rosé, popping a tiny cube of gouda into her mouth as she strode to one of the short tables to fetch a glass.

At twenty-eight minutes, she poured a second. 

Fuck it, Madison thought, topping the glass after a particularly vengeful tilt of her drink. Slumping into a seat, she shook her head, tugging a little at the bun that now felt irritating on her scalp. This was what she got for trying to be something she so clearly wasn't, her mind declared. That's what this meant, of course. Somehow they'd all sensed it through the invites and the follow-up details emails. 

Fun. Smart. Charming. At twenty-nine minutes, Madison decided a wine tasting wasn't going to prove she was any of those things to anyone anyway.

And at thirty minutes, someone else walked in.