Chapter 4
MOLLY
The shower drips and the room is small, and dingy.
But I'm in Venice.
How lucky am I?
The entire journey from Chicago to here was fun, if tiring.
Everything was new. The airport. The security.
The endless waiting. And then getting in the plane!
And the food. It was like being back at school, tiny plates with tiny forks and knives to eat with.
I didn’t eat much, because I didn’t feel hungry.
I was excited! I’m proud of myself for getting here relatively unscathed, considering I spent most of the flight squashed between a huge man who drooled in his sleep and his equally large wife, who snored for almost the entire journey.
By the time we landed, I’d lost all feeling in my left leg and gained a damp patch on my shoulder that definitely wasn’t mine.
My two-star hotel is in the Cannaregio district. It's within walking distance of the Doge’s Palace.
Miss Turlington refused the money when I offered to pay for the hotel. I tried my hardest but she was firm. Which means my entire trip to Italy and back has been paid for, and the only thing I need to pay for is food.
What a win.
Kiki went thrift-store shopping with me last weekend, and together we picked out a canary yellow full-length satin dress for me.
As soon as I put it on, I loved it. I knew I had to have it but when I stepped out of the changing room, Kiki made a face.
She told me that black would be a better choice of color, more stylish and fitting, but that is so not my color.
Bright yellow is.
Black is what people wear to funerals.
As soon as I slipped on my dress, I felt instantly happy. That's what clothes should do. They should make you happy. So I bought it.
Kiki is always talking about fashion and beauty, and always threatens to “style me” so that I “dress better.”
This is me.
I don’t like putting goop on my face, and I’d rather spend the time doing something else, like having an extra ten minutes in bed before I need to get up.
She’s given me some good advice for the ball.
She told me not to wear stilettos or heels because Venice has cobbled streets.
I wish I could wear my sneakers, but this dress looks so much better in heels.
I can't walk in stilettos, but my espadrille wedges solve the problem. They give me height and they’re comfortable.
I turn around as I look at my reflection in the mirror.
It's got greasy streaks on it, and the light in here is dim.
I can't see myself too clearly, but what I see, makes my heart stop.
I look ... unrecognizable. My long hair falls in waves over my shoulders.
I spend far longer on it than I normally would, and for once it seems to have behaved.
Also, my dress does looks amazing, if I say so myself.
There’s just one thing I need to add. I pull out my white faux-fur evening jacket and slip into it. It’s cropped at the waist and so very soft, I could snuggle my face against it for hours and happily fall asleep.
It’s fluffy enough to make me feel glamorous. I picked it up in a thrift store. Kiki wrinkled her nose up at me, but I love it. I especially love that it's faux fur.
I hold up my Colombina mask. It covers my eyes, nose and upper cheeks, and is decorated with delicate gold sequins and swirls and tiny sparkling crystals. A small stick at the side means I can simply hold it up to my face.
I'm ready for an adventure, for whatever tonight brings. Kiki told me to look out for a rich guy.
“Don’t worry if he's a dinosaur,” she said, but I wrinkled my nose at that. Why would I want a rich guy, or a dinosaur?
I'm not looking out for anyone.
I’m excited just to be here, to see how some people live. I’m wondering how many people does the Doge’s Palace hold? I wonder if it’s as big as Oakleigh?
But more than that, I want to soak in every second of my time there, because it will probably be my only chance to ever be at an event like this and I want to remember my evening there forever.
I’m about to leave my hotel room when I stop. Oh my days! I almost forgot my hairy caterpillars!
That’s what I call the false eyelashes Kiki insisted I buy.
She said they’d transform my face, and she wouldn’t listen to my protests about not wanting to fiddle about with these things.
She bought them for me. I pull them out of my small makeup bag and make a face.
They’re hideously long. For a second I consider not gluing them on.
Kiki insisted I get ridiculously long ones, and I stupidly listened to her on this occasion. I wish hadn't, because they don't look right, and when I hold them against my eyes, they look even worse, so I take a nail cutter to them.
It’s not perfect. The ends are slightly jagged, but they’re better than they were. At least, I think so.
I run a thin line of glue along the first strip, wait a few seconds, then carefully press it as close to my lashes as I can. It takes me three attempts to get both of them on.
I blink at myself in the mirror.
Then blink again.
I step back. They look different, and they feel strange.
Like I have something on my eyelid I want to shake off.
But they do make a difference. They accentuate my eyes, which is not a bad thing.
I peer closer and examine the eyelashes again.
They're not straight, and now they're not even the same length.
One eyelash is shorter than the other. On closer inspection they look odd, but who will notice given that most of my face will be covered by the mask?
I examine my reflection in the dirty mirror again, turning around slowly to see myself from every angle. My heart jumps because I feel like a different person.
Excitement courses through my veins. I’m not even there yet, but already I am beyond excited.
I can’t wait to be there. I gather my belongings.
I have my clutch bag in one hand, and my mask in the other.
The baton is too long and the mask too big to fit into my tiny clutch, but at least it can hold my phone.
I fold the invite and slip that into my bag, but I can already see I’m going to have a lot to juggle, and this dress has no pockets.
Regardless, I set off, following the directions on my cell phone as I make my way on foot to the Palace.
And when I finally see it, I stop.
Wow.
I knew the Doge’s Palace was beautiful. I’d seen the pictures online. But pictures don’t come close to standing in front of the real thing. It’s enormous, all pale stone and arches and rows of delicate windows. It has a magnificent, ethereal feel about it.
For a moment, I stand there and stare.
I’m a kindergarten teacher from Chicago who has never travelled outside the US before, and now I’m in Venice. About to attend a masked ball. At the Doge’s Palace.
How did this happen?
A small queue has formed near the entrance, and I join the back of it. That’s when I start looking properly at the other guests.
Oh my days.
The women look incredible. Long gowns in black, in rich, deep colors. Jewels sparkle at throats and ears. Elaborate masks glitter with gold and feathers.
I can't stop staring.
Some of the men are polished and elegant in tuxedos and dark suits, while others look as though they’ve stepped straight out of another century, dressed in brocade coats and embroidered waistcoats, with lace at their throats and feathered tricorn hats.
I glance down at myself in my simple long bright yellow dress.
Seriously, Molly?
I feel so underdressed. I may as well have worn a high-vis jacket. For the first time since leaving the hotel, I wonder if I’ve made a terrible mistake. Everyone else looks as though they belong here.
I look back at the palace, glowing against the darkening sky.
And I feel very, very small.
Kiki texts me:
Kiki: You there?
Me: I'm queuing
Kiki: I’m proud of you and excited for you. Don’t forget to send lots of pics!
The queue moves quickly, and before I know it, I’m at the front. A smartly dressed attendant checks my invitation, then another offers to take my jacket.
I shrug out of it, juggling my mask and clutch as he takes it from me and hands me a small numbered ticket in return. I immediately tuck it safely inside my clutch.
“Enjoy your evening, madam.”
“Thank you. I will.” I flash him a smile, excited about my evening.
I follow the group of people who were before me. I don’t know what to do, where to go, and looking around, I see glitter and sequins, ornate costumes and masks. It’s almost as if I’ve accidentally wandered into someone’s dream.
I hold up my mask with the baton. This is fun, looking out through this. Hiding behind it. It feels mysterious and makes me feel a little daring.
A waiter walks towards me, carrying a tray in both hands, laden with champagne glasses.
Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes.
I would love some champagne.
I reach for a glass, but I’m holding my mask by one hand and my clutch in the other. I slip my clutch under my arm and awkwardly reach for a glass.
“Thank you.” I smile at the server, then sip my champagne. It’s nice. Cold and crisp, the bubbles fizzing against my tongue.
I take another sip and look around. I’d pinch myself if I had a spare hand, but this is all so surreal, me here with all these people, in this beautiful building, in Venice!
How is this my life? Ordinarily, on a Saturday evening, I’d be at home, likely playing Jenga with myself.
People are gathered beneath glittering chandeliers, talking and laughing while waiters dart between them with trays of champagne and tiny things to eat. A woman wearing a sequined mask with feathers smiles at me as she passes. Another tells me she loves my dress.
I thank them, and take another sip of champagne.
I can do this.
Miss T believes in me.
I quickly finish my champagne because I want to take photos, and small clips of video, even though I’m not sure that I'm allowed to. I want them for Miss T. She’s missed this, and I want to bring a little of this evening to her.