While I Was Away(14)

Adele wasn't sure what to do with herself. She felt like she halfway to fainting, so she made her way to one of the mirrored walls and leaned against it. Welcomed the cool glass against her hot skin. So many people in such a relatively small space, it was so warm. She fanned her hand in front of her face for a few beats, then went off looking for a door.

But she quickly discovered there were no doors. Not one single exit along any of the walls – including where they'd come in. The big wooden doors were gone. Poof!

She groaned as she stared at her reflection. Then Jones' words came back to her, and she actually smiled. She did kind of look like Belle, with her soft brown hair swept up on the back of her head, some curls hanging at her neck. She had wide, almost violet colored eyes – she'd always categorized herself as average looking, with her eyes pushing her over the line into exotic. Her clear, pale skin made her look younger than her twenty-five years of age, and when added all together, the effect was somewhat Disney princess like.

Then her gaze wandered over the amazing dress she was wearing before turning to the other people in the room, taking in all the finery around her. It was bizarre – here she was, trapped in a Disney movie with no ending in sight, and she was obsessing over her outfit.

But Jones had made a very valid point. There were no doors. There was no waking up. So maybe she should just go with it. Stressing out was doing nothing but making her feel sick all the time. If she just went with the flow, maybe it would at least pass the time until she could figure out what exactly was going on.

“There you are.”

Jones' deep voice startled her and Adele whirled around, pressing a hand to her chest. As she stared up at him, she finally noticed how very like Prince Charming he looked. The dove colored pants, the fitted jacket. He even had on thick white gloves. Combined with his classic good looks, he was every inch the prince to her princess.

“Sorry, I was just ... I needed a moment,” she explained.

“Understandable. Come with me, let's get you something to drink,” he held out his arm to her, and she placed her hand on it before they made their way through the crowd.

A door that hadn't been in the opposite wall a few moments ago gave way to a back room. There was a punch bowl filled with lemonade and he got her a glass.

“I don't know what to talk about,” she finally admitted after a lengthy silence. “I don't know you, and I don't know anything about anything here.”

“That's okay. How about I help? Tell me about your boyfriend,” he suggested.

Adele froze for a second. Boyfriend? She had to think for quite a bit, but yes, she did remember that she had a boyfriend. Didn't she? The words didn't feel right in her brain. She frowned and looked into her cup, struggling to sort it all out.

“He's ... in Los Angeles, I met him there, I think. He's older than me, a little. Maybe four years? Five? God, this is awful! How can I not remember him clearly? It's like ... like I know he exists, but he's still not ... real. He's not my boyfriend,” she tried to explain and failed miserably.

“Maybe you don't want to think about him.”

“That's awful. I didn't realize I was an awful person.”

“No, that doesn't make you awful. Maybe he's awful. Maybe you were going to break up. Or maybe he proposed and you said no. Maybe you already broke up. Who knows? It's upsetting you, so forget it for now. How about your friends?”

She felt a little guilty, but Adele gladly grabbed onto the distraction. Getting used to purgatory being her new residence was hard enough; she didn't want to also wrestle with being an awful girlfriend.

She talked about her friend Zoey Blanke. The strange, sour girl Adele had been assigned to room with her sophomore year. Zoey scowled way more than she smiled, and had a razor sharp tongue which she never put a leash on. She was also the tiniest thing, a waif, standing at barely five-foot-one. It always cracked Adele up, seeing how shocked people would be at the voice coming out of such a small woman.

They'd become instant best friends and wound up rooming together all through college.

She regaled Jones with tales of the two of them. Adele teaching Zoey how to knit as a form of anger management. Zoey cursing out the Starbucks guy for always shortchanging them. He laughed at her stories, and in turn, told Adele about some of his own friends. A man who was a stunt actor in Hollywood. A woman who was a professional boxer. An elderly man who struggled with diabetes.

“I like people who are different,” Jones finally finished, after they'd been talking for what felt like hours. Or possibly years. Adele looked through the doorway, surprised to see the ballroom was still packed, all the dancers still in full swing.

“Clearly. They all sound really nice, maybe I can meet them someday,” she said, and she meant it. He smiled tightly at her and put down his cup.

“Maybe. And then there's Marigold. She's only eight, I ... I take care of her sometimes. She's very special. She's gonna grow up to be amazing, I just know it. Smartest kid in her class! We're talking future president,” he chuckled.

“That's so sweet, you babysit?” she asked.

“Something like that. Look, we've been here a long time. Want to get some air?”

“God, yes. I'm dying in this dress.”

He grabbed her hand, and she decided her no touching rule was silly anymore. They'd just sat and talked to each for what felt like half a lifetime – if he wanted to hold her hand, she wasn't going to stop him. She followed in his wake, instead.