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She walked throughout the party, smiling faintly at all the guests. She, of course, knew all their names, thoughtful details about their lives, and detailed romantic histories to avoid any awkward questions about wives who were now mistresses and husbands on work trips of indefinite duration.
It was as if she were singing some sort of song. An endless refrain of “Good evening / thank you for being here today / it means a great deal to my family / have a Happy Christmas and a prosperous New Years.”
She caught a glimpse of her mother every now and then, a whirling mass of red taffeta. She, too, was making the rounds, although the head of Daidouji Enterprises did it with two of her latest assistants.
Life was business, in the end, and it struck Tomoyo as being rather depressing that on Christmas Eve she was making her way towards the CEO of a large fabric manufacturer to try and cement a deal three years in the making. She plastered a rather large, plastic smile on her face.
“Good evening, Hatta-san. Thank you for being here today. It means a great deal to me.”
“Daidouji Tomoyo-san! How are you?”
Good lord, he was drunk already. “I’m fine, how are you?”
“I’m good, good. Excellent party!”
Excellent bar, you mean. “I’m glad you are enjoying yourself. I hate to bring up business, but—” a sudden apparition over the man’s left shoulder, and Tomoyo’s outstretched arm jerked, knocking his glass off the table.
“My drink!”
Tomoyo shook herself out of her daze and quickly backed away, bowing her head. “My apologies, Hatta-san. Please, help yourself to another drink. I’m sorry, but…urgent business…Happy New Year.”
Leaving him behind, sputtering, Tomoyo made her way towards the coat check. “Excuse me, has anyone checked in?”
The poor, harassed lady at the coat check gave her a blank stare. “Um, Miss Daidouji-sama, many people have checked in a coat, or a handbag, or a shawl…are you, um, missing something?”
Tomoyo shook her head, having instantly recognized a dark, navy blue jacket carelessly strew over a table. “That one. That one right there, is he here?”
“Since his jacket is here…yes? I’m so sorry, there was just a pile-up, and I haven’t had the chance to put things away…”
Tomoyo shook her head, her heart beating erratically against the tight bodice of her dress. “No, no, that’s okay. I…it’s fine.”
Tearing herself away, Tomoyo turned around and scanned the crowds, searching for that familiar face. She could feel her makeup wilt under the sweat that had suddenly appeared on her upper lip. Suddenly her dress, a light and airy concoction, was much too heavy.
Weaving through the crowd, she downed something bubbly, asked for another, and polished it off. She could feel herself start to calm down (she wasn’t all that heavy). Doggedly, she made her way towards one of the empty balconies, rebuffing various well-wishers along the way.
Outside, she leant against the railing, taking a few deep breaths. What was he doing here? Was he on the guest list? How could he have been? She had gone over it personally…
“Surprise.”
Tomoyo let out a shriek that—thankfully—was muffled by the thick draperies that were serving as doors. Suddenly face-to-face with him, her mind was completely blank, except for…
“Good evening,” she intoned, completely unsure of what to call him, “thank you for being here today. It means a great deal to my family. Have a Happy Christmas and a prosperous New Years.”
He laughed. He laughed at her, and suddenly Tomoyo’s daze was replaced by burning anger.
He smiled, his look as always exasperating and condescending. “Good evening, Daidouji-san,” he repeated, mockingly, “thank you for inviting me here today. It meant a great deal to me, to know that I was invited apparently without you noticing. Was my picture missing from your guest list, by any chance?”
That bastard. She found her own voice. “Hello, Hiiragizawa-san. What the hell are you doing here today?”
“Why, Daidouji-san! I am shocked. See, it says right here,” he fished in his pockets and came up with a sickeningly familiar green card, slightly crumpled. “You have been cordially invited to attend Daidouji Enterprise’s Annual Christmas Ball. Etc, etc, on behalf of Willow Tree Publications.”
Tomoyo’s eyes narrowed.
“What are these, Tomoyo-san?”
She idly rolled over, leisurely raking her eyes across his body his clothes alongside hers somewhere on the floor in the living room. “What are what?”
He turned around, a sheaf of papers in his hand. “This looks like… are these manuscripts?”
She scrambled out of bed and bounded towards him, snatching it out of his hands and turning away. “Nothing! Just…a side project.”
He came behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, resting his head on her shoulder. She shivered as his hand traced circles on her neck. “Tell me?”
She let herself be led back to bed. She lets his soft voice draw out her quiet dreams and make her believe that they’re possible.
She felt like screaming or throwing her glass, just something petty and childish. It’s just unfair. But unfair is her inheritance.
“Well, congratulations as always, I suppose. If it couldn’t be me, I’m glad that it was someone.” It was taking a lot of her energy to refrain, and then a lot of energy to refrain from screaming about the fact that she had to refrain from screaming in the first place. “Glad it was you,” she finished, her voice low.
His smile was inscrutable. She wonders if he felt guilty, living the life she had planned for them on his own.
“Yes, well, thank you.”
There was an awkward pause.
Tomoyo shivered, convincing herself it was due to the cold. “How has it come to this?” she whispered.
He smiled wryly, but she couldn’t tell if he had heard her or not.
She turned to leave, and he reached out, and suddenly she was inches away from him and she could smell his cologne and it was like nothing had ever happened.
She couldn’t help it…she backed away, out from under the patio shelter, snowflakes instantly dusting her head and shoulders.
“Please, just go.” Her mind was a mess. She couldn’t remember why they had split, couldn’t remember whose fault it had been, or whether she wanted him back, or whether she had had a reason for staying away, or anything. The alcohol was pounding in her head. “Just get the hell out of my sight.”
He faltered, seemingly unsure of the certainty of her conviction. For a long moment, he was leaving.
Tomoyo shook her head, trying to sort things out. Did she want him to go? Did she want him to stay? Did he want to go? Did he want to stay?
He was looking for the rent in the curtains when he suddenly swiveled around. “Come, Tomoyo-san…Tomoyo…”
Her name, from his lips, was like a breath of fresh air, clearing up her mind. She strode forward, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him.
When they broke away, that awful, haughty look had disappeared, and the old Eriol was back. Tomoyo smiled up at him.
“Hmm?” he mumbled, attempting to sound intelligent.
Tomoyo laughed softly and burrowed deeper into his chest. “Mother always said to keep your enemies closer.”