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. 

[IsabellaRose]

Mandy lingered in the doorway, sandals thumping once against the tile before she froze. Her breath caught the second her eyes fell on the woman across the room—the hostess in red, the kind of red that made Mandy’s pulse skip. For a terrifying moment she thought about turning right around, pretending she hadn’t walked in, maybe mumbling something about wrong room wrong night sorry. But then Madison looked up.

God, she’s gorgeous. And that smile—tentative, a little wounded maybe, but beautiful all the same. Mandy felt the words “Sex Addicts Anonymous” shrivel in her throat. She’d come here looking for help, or at least a first step toward it, but now… now she saw the table lined with wine bottles and cheese and the kind of careful presentation someone makes when they really want to be seen. She thought, half-wild, I can push this back one night. Tomorrow can be about fixing myself. Tonight… tonight can be about living a little. Her fingers twisted the strap of her purse as she took one careful step in. Play it cool. Just be someone who belongs here.

“Um… hi,” she said, voice feather-soft. Her eyes darted to the bottles, the sandwich board with its curly letters, and then back to Madison. “This is… the wine tasting, right?”

Mandy’s heart was doing somersaults. She had no idea if she’d said it like a confident participant or like someone who’d just blurted out a cover story. Inside, she was already rehearsing excuses: I was in the neighborhood. I saw the sign. I thought, why not? She gave the room a quick once-over. Empty. Just her and the hostess. That made it easier, and scarier.

“Looks like I’m… um… early?” she tried, lips curling into the smallest, shyest smile. Idiot, it’s almost half an hour in, that’s not early. But maybe she’ll let me slide. Maybe she’s glad someone showed up at all.

Her gaze lingered on Madison’s auburn hair, the elegant dress, the way she seemed equal parts put-together and fraying at the edges. Mandy knew the feeling. Maybe that was why she didn’t bolt. Maybe that’s why she stepped further in, shoulders back, pretending she wasn’t about to trip over her own nerves. Inside her head, a war was raging. One voice said, This is stupid, you came for help. You’re doing it again, chasing distraction, chasing someone pretty instead of your own healing, while another countered with, But look at her. Just look. If tonight is a mistake, at least it will be a beautiful one.

She touched her hair self-consciously, curling a strand around her finger. “So… do I, um… grab a glass? Or wait for everyone else?”

Her eyes were wide, curious, half-innocent, half-testing the waters—like maybe if Madison handed her a drink, Mandy could stop feeling like a lost girl and start feeling like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.