Cuff Links

by : epiphanies

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It is a vanity fair.

I am surrounded in a resounding darkness that is only considered 'elite.' Candles are lit and flicker creepily, creating shadows in the crevices of the sloping, carved walls. Clinking of glasses can be heard all around, delighted little titters and low, husky chuckles. Men dressed in black, women adorned with fabrics made of imported silk and jewels that are made to glow.

Oil paintings decorate the main hallway, of all sorts of things. Women, men, children, all beautiful in face and wearing outrageously expensive curtains.

With every step, I see another pair of cuff links on the ground. The only litter that such swanky affairs can offer to a housemaid.

In such a dark house, the only light is in the kitchen. White walls with tomato stains and a chef with his dark hair askew. Chambermaids nursing their aching feet while waiting for their powdery soup. Laughter is heard from where our children are playing and offers us comfort.

I carry out more drink to the party. No eye contact. No thank-you's, and it's better that way. The carpets that the maid had cleaned with such a merciless scrubber this morning is squished and brown. I avert my eyes from the sight and instead watch my pile of glasses grow. The beautiful women don't spare a glance. I feel their husbands' eyes on me.

Shoes click at parties such as this one. The women wear high heels that make noise enough to scare away any poltergeists that threaten the gala. The higher the shoe, the more foul the look on the woman's face when I take her glass.

My shoes have never clicked.

I stand in an arched doorway for a moment, leaning in the shadows. I have watched many of my Master's parties from this spot, where the candles cannot reach. The entertainment plays in the other corner, so few are in position to notice my presence at all.

These are not happy people, the ones standing with the jewels and lace and thins, the missing cufflinks with servants just like me sitting at home, enjoying the evening. They are not joyous or fulfilled. I know this because I took a necklace from one, once, when she laid in my Master's bed the next morning at one of his last parties. I did not feel empowered or changed.

I close my eyes for a moment and enjoy the music, then head back down the dark hall to the kitchen.

White and bright and stained, with twelve dirty people eating without pretension at a simple wooden table, shoes off. An exclusive club.

I smile as I join them, not bothering to put the glasses away.

This is the most beautiful place I've ever been.

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end.