Resurgence

19. Death Knoll

“The world has become one big grassy knoll, crawling with lone gunmen—who think they’re the Warren commission.” – Ken MacLeod.

•••

The lighting in the hall was like one he had never seen before.

Little miniscule bulbs that protruded out of short conical poles were wedged into the walls and from a distance they appeared like glimmering candles. The wall was covered in abstract wall mural paint that displayed silhouettes of men and women in groups of twos clad in formal attire, in erotic and informal positions. The marble floor was engraved with snowflakes of differing size freckled with tiny dots of falling snow, and while mobile they seemed to shimmer and move. The ceiling above was pleated with a white canopy which mass swam at varying positions to exude a sky of dense clouds.

It was nothing but magical.

“Damn,” Was the remark from the vision whose arm was looped through his right arm. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who was entranced by the atmosphere. “And I thought that I couldn’t see something different asides the regular satin sheet design and big chandeliers in all the numerous weddings that I’ve been to in the past few years. Turns out, I was wrong.”

“Numerous weddings?” His curiosity piqued, as they strode forward to join the mobile crowd dispersed across the wide ball room that was void of tables or chairs. The organizers of the party had really gone out of their way to extort concrete foreign policy in their planning since they had neglected the utility of chairs and tables. Were they going to stand all day? “I thought you said you don’t have a lot of friends anymore and majority have drifted away. Surely, they didn’t call you out of the blue to invite you and you also didn’t travel all the way to attend, as if y’all have been tight for the past few years.”

“No, not that.” She smiled, as he lowered his gaze at her. Her golden studded earrings jingled as she shook her head gently and bared her flawless set of white teeth. It warmed his heart greatly that she wasn’t holding back and was simply feeling, unlike her previous antagonistic attitude. It would seem it was wearing off gradually. “It’s just this thing that happens when you’re a part of a big family. It was many years ago in fact, when I was still in secondary school. One aunt or one uncle would have a wedding and I’d have to go and you know, all the designs were pretty much typical and formulaic…”

“Like my outfits, right?” It took her a while to grasp the meaning behind his interjection, but she only smiled and nudged him gently.

“You don’t have to take that personal, most men are pretty much formulaic with what they wear everyday cos they don’t care much for fashion or don’t have a lot of time to think of more innovative stuff to wear.”

“So, why were you always hammering me like it’s a big fashion blunder or like the pair of shoes I’m wearing don’t match and are of contradicting pairs.”

She met his gaze. “You only complain about something that you’re bothered about or care for. If it was someone random I met on the street or just an acquaintance—I couldn’t care less if they wore the same shirt every time we met. I’d be taken aback but not to the point that I would say anything. I only complained because I care, simple.”

Wow.

“And here I was thinking that it was just you taking jabs. Anyway, what were you saying?”

“I was talking about the detail put into designs and all,” She resumed, as they veered closer to the center of the vast space. It was then he noticed the tower-like counters, that wadded down to the end of the hall positioned at fixed gaps—holding filled glasses of champagne with bubbles rising up to the top. “It was always the usual formula. Even the colors were very predictable. If it’s not red and white, it would be orange and white. Or Blue and white or something very simple. They were beautiful, though but I just thought I couldn’t get anything new from a party.”