Here and Then Gone

The Opening Night of the Game is always Amelia’s favorite part of the Game. It is never the same—that would be sacrilegious for the House—but it is always a variation on the same theme: a ball. Three years ago, it was a masquerade where the players and performers came dressed as an animal from the jungle. This year it is a classic-style ball. The dress code is snow and shadows: the women must wear white, and the men must wear black.

The ballroom is simply adorned relative to some of the previous years’ balls. Plain white curtains hang in archways open to the night air. The floor is dark polished wood so shiny the dancers can see their reflections. Crystal chandeliers hang high overhead along the length of the ballroom with candles in their holders instead of bulbs. A slight breeze makes the curtains sway, like the white-clad ladies on the floor.

The ball has long since finished, the players having gone off to rest themselves for the next day. Even the other performers have left, so it is just her with the dancing curtains and the single chandelier in the center of the room that has been left lit. It would less than half a thought for Amelia to relight the rest of the chandeliers, not even worth a physical motion to do so, but she leaves them dark. It creates a more mysterious atmosphere.

“Would you like to dance?”

Amelia doesn’t turn. She is not surprised. She’s been waiting for the man to reveal himself. Waiting and wondering. “About time,” she comments.

The clip of dress shoes on the polished wood floor sounds behind her, stopping a respectful distance away. “You could have asked me to dance, too, since you knew I was there.”

“Since when does a lady ask a man to dance?” Amelia asks, finally turning.

The man is neither handsome nor plain; he is satisfactory. More than his visage, Amelia is intrigued by his clothes. Very fine, tailor-made. The black of his suit is also darker, deeper, richer than the countless shades of blacks Amelia saw tonight.

“You don’t strike me as a typical lady.”

Amelia inclines her head. “I’ll take that as a compliment. And yes, I accept your proposal.”

Amelia and the man take up the appropriate positions and begin the dance. There is no audible music from an orchestra, but the couple still dances flawlessly and in time to some unheard, tacit melody. The man spins Amelia and her white gown twirls and balloons like the swaying curtains. They wander from the center of the room under the glowing chandelier into the shadows. The man twirls Amelia again, right beside the curtains so that her dress and the curtains seem to merge.

And when the curtains subside, Amelia is gone from the man’s arms and gone from the ballroom.