the lifetime of a party.

Charlie always liked house parties. He liked a good casual gathering, a few mates, the right sort of people, a few drinks, and a good chat. He liked to talk, to laugh, to make some jokes and have some ideas and generally just, you know, all that stuff. Most of all he liked being funny. Charlie loved the moment when the laughter died away and everyone looked at him – any more where that came from Charlie? That was the look in their eyes – and there’s always more where that came from. They loved it, he loved it, good time was had by all. It was a shame though, he almost felt guilty whenever he wanted to go and get another drink, or if he needed a piss, because conversation was going to slow down without him and he knew it. That’s a big burden to bear in a way. Once, he came back in and it was genuinely silent. To be fair though, he quite liked that feeling. Charlie always liked a good gathering. It was just a shame really that the others couldn’t be – you know – that they weren’t quite as – whatever. But it was all right. Good fun. Until Charlie went to the ball.

It was the big one, the one with years in the making, decades on the waiting list. And out of nowhere he’d got this invite. Gilt-edged. Hand-written – by the man himself – too good even for eBay this one. And he got the suit, he even borrowed cufflinks, and his dad taught him how to shine his shoes. He hadn’t had butterflies in his stomach since he was twelve years old. And as he walked up to the gate he looked at the invite again and thought it had to be fake, surely. But they let him through. He was plunged into clear water with his eyes open – everything glittered, everything swum. There were jugglers and dancers. It was beautiful. It was huge – it was almost ridiculous how huge the whole thing was. And there was room after room - dining halls with mountains of things he didn’t recognise that tasted strange and sweet, fountains of edible things, and men with little stalls, frying things that smelt so richly savoury that it made your mouth water. And music. Horns, and tuxedos, and saxophones, and a woman playing a double-bass like it was alive. And he danced. And there were people dancing all around him, and they looked and smiled, and danced together. And he felt so small he could almost disappear and so happy he could almost melt.

And the night wore on. Excitement mellowed into peace, a gentle awe-struck pleasure. He lay on the balcony, looked at the stars. A voice was singing beneath him, and it was jazz. No one had noticed that he’d gone outside. He’d barely noticed. Laughter swirled, up and around him, and he breathed it in, and out, and he propped himself up on his elbows, and looked out across the sea of sparkling lights, traced it with his eyes until it kissed the dark of the horizon. He lost his thoughts in the swell of the saxophones beneath him. He closed his eyes, slowly.

A hand touches his shoulder, his eyes open quickly and he sees that it’s him, it’s the man himself. He’s sitting next to him, looking out. Charlie looks around and sees two drinks of incredible sparkling liquid sitting between them on the ground.

“One’s for you” he says. Charlie picks it up, tries to drink it without taking his eyes of the man that’s sitting right next to him. Right next to him.

“I saw you leave, I thought I’d come say hello.” The drink is magic, it’s cold, refreshing, but his throat is tingling like it’s on fire, but not like he’s thirsty, like it’s warming his blood, he can feel every inch of the veins in his chest. He breathes. “Thank you” he says.

And then the man turns his head, looks straight at him, and his eyes are even better than everyone says. A grin starts to creep across his lips. Across Charlie’s too. He reaches out an arm and lays a hand on his shoulder once again.

“Charlie, I’m so glad that you came.”

***

I hope you like the story, I liked writing it. And all I really wanted to get at was, which party are you living at? Because the invitations to the ball are free, all you’ve got to do is ask. And I can’t tell you how good it is to hear the man himself, the Master of Ceremonies, Founder of the Feast, the Inventor of Delight, sit down next to you and say, “I’m so glad that you came.”

PS. If you still don’t get what I’m going on about, or if you want an invitation yourself, just drop me a message!