Masquerade Mansion

The words continued to swirl around in her mind, creating an almost inescapable echo. Masquerade, Masquerade, Masquerade… That was the name of her chance. Her chance to become real and loved and everything her mother would have wanted her to be. Her chance to become what she was destined to be: an actress. And Greg was practically gifting it to her with a giant, red bow on top of it.

I can’t mess this up, Rowan thought. This is it. What I’ve been waiting for. And I have to get ready!

When could she get ready? The play was tonight, and she had no time to practice. She had work to do, and a lot of it. But she couldn’t think about that now. Rowan’s job at the moment to satisfy every customer that walked through that door, and entertain them and make them smile. It was her job as a waitress. For now anyways, she thought.

Rowan hurriedly picked up two menus as soon as a couple entered the Café Shop, linked by their arms. The way the man looked at the girl-the sweet, subtle manner of the way he would point of their table, the loving look in his eyes and the precious smile on his face-it was obvious he was in love with her. And she showed the same. She seemed comforted by his presence and warmed by his sweet smile.

Rowan had never seen love so pure. It was her very first time seeing something so real and unimaginable. It was so surprising that she felt her cheeks rise in temperature and her heart beat increased. But she had to get over it. This couple deserved a good waitress. That much she could give them. Gladly, she thought, advancing towards them.

“Hello,” she greeted them, handing them both their menus. “My name is Rowan, and how may I be of assistance to you both?” She smiled, hoping to reveal the warmth in her heart she received seeing such an amazing love.
But they did not, apparently. “I’d just like a latte,” the girl said indifferently. She got out her cell phone and began text messaging, oblivious to the uneasy glances she got from her companion.
“Eh, I’d like black coffee,” the man said, smiling apologetically.

Rowan understood that. She smiled once more and made her way back to the counter. Greg was waiting there, as always, with that smug smile of a triumphant man. Had victory been his? She personally disagreed. He was handing her a perfect chance to become someone important. However, what did he get? Rowan would never find out.

“One latte and black coffee”-she pointed with her pen at the couple seated at their table-“for honeymoon lovebirds.” She sighed, resting her elbow on the counter.
“Coming right up,” Greg replied, grinning. Then he took a look at her spaced out expression and asked, “Something wrong?”
“No…” She considered for a moment, and then she added, “It’s just…I’ve never seen people look each other like that…So powerful-like something from another world.” Rowan continued to gaze at the lovebirds, barely aware of anything else but them. The girl had stopped her momentary text messaging, and was returning the man’s gaze, looking straight into his big, brown eyes. Her expression that of sweet chocolate at the verge of melting from the powerful force that was known as love. Brown eyes and sweet caramel colored eyes met, and they locked gaze.

How the simplest of things could turn a look into…a look, Rowan thought, scowling at the uneasiness stirring up inside her.

“There’s lots of couples like that, you know…You’ll see them at a park or at a restaurant or at a movie theatre or…” His voice began to feel distant.

Rowan couldn’t hear it anymore. She couldn’t hear him telling her about couples all over the world, or the lovebirds’ order being held out to her. She only heard and saw one thing.

Him.