Folies Bergere

By: Lizzie B

He watches her from the other side of the room as she leans on the bar. She’s been there since the doors opened at ten in the morning, standing at the same bar, wearing the same expression. She had only moved when necessary, and only then very little. No motion was ever wasted, she never spoke more than was needed. She was cold, distant and watched the party around her as if she were a ghost just moving through it. He has been watching her since he walked through the door, though he didn’t know what about her drew his eye. Her hair isn’t anything spectacular, nor are her clothes or her body, but he can not look away from her.

The fatigue of the long hours has made her pale while everyone around her flushed and excited. The party and spirits have made their mark on them, but she has no mark of either on her. Maybe that’s what draws him, her differences from everyone else in the massive crowd. She’s been dressed like the partygoers, but he can tell she’s not one of them, and it’s not just because she’s working the bar. There’s still some vestiges of pride left in her eyes and she looks at the drunken fools around her with disdain. There’s something about her though, something he can’t place.

Almost like he’s seen her before, but if he had he would have remembered her. The crystal chandelier dances little rainbow spots across her face, no reaction from her. A drunk patron slams against the bar, her eyes don’t even flicker towards the man. That’s when he remembers. He’d seen her on the streets, selling what God gave her. On the streets, though, she had been smiling, her eyes had been beguiling, and her body tempting. With her acting so cold, so distant, so different he now understood why he watched her. How could one person be that warm one moment, and so cold now? He starts to make his way through the crowd, all the while being jostled, pushed and groped, but his eyes stayed on her. He places his own hands on the bar, mimicking her and she doesn’t even smile.

“What will be your fancy tonight sir?” Bored, he thinks listening to her, very bored. He’s tempted to ask if she finds selling herself on the streets more exciting, but wonders why he’s angry that she would. How he knows defies logic, besides placing his drink order he’s never spoken anything else to her. He watches her hands as she mixes the drink. No movement wasted. The splash the orange makes as it drops into the drink is the only sound between them. He has no reason to stay close to her now he realizes as he picks up the drink. So back to his corner he goes, to watch. Sûrement ceci est folies.