"Upset" - Year 1, Day 64

 "I'm upset." The eight-year-old declared to the room full of adults. 

This was her very first dinner party and she had dressed in all of her very best pieces of clothing. These were the ones that she had saved at the side of her closet, carefully hung on her best hangers (the thick plastic ones with tabs to hang dresses inset into the triangle thing), without any creases (she checked), and no dog hair anywhere. She thought she looked like Audrey Hepburn in A Breakfast at Tiffany's or at least Charade. She was wearing jewelry that she was going to "grow into", but it was expensive looking. She was wearing the little black dress that maybe poofed out a little more on her tiny frame than Ms. Hepburn, but the sunglasses! Those were perfect. It was her first dinner party and she was a vision in black.

And no one noticed. The party was full of what her grandmother had colloquially referred to as "dips" and not one of them saw her. She had even tried lighting up one of her candy cigarettes, just like Audrey, and her mother, appearing out of nowhere, had shut that down before she'd struck the match. She exuded class and style and these idiots would not give her the time of day. In fact, as she stood there stewing, she noticed that no one gave anyone else "the time of day" either. They all spoke at each other, not listening to a word anyone else said unless it was, "do you want another drink?" She could not understand why drinking grape juice in a tall very fragile looking glass was the only reason anyone listened to anyone else, but there they all were. 

She got a glass, filled it with grape juice, and slurped. She even pretended to laugh at the appropriate time when someone, one room over, laughed and she acted like it was the funniest thing with a hearty guffaw. She slapped her knee and spilled her juice. Mom would no doubt give her the appropriate amount of haranguing in the morning for that. Still, no one saw her.

"I'm upset that I am not getting enough attention," she announced to no one in particular. "Life has been unfair to me too!" Her dog had come over to sit and stare at her. He was the perfect height to stare straight into her soul. He whimpered once and then lay down with one of his paws touching her foot, looking up at her with those eyes. She bent down carefully to give him a scratch, balancing her drink in one hand, and he rolled over. The big idiot presented his belly with what looked like a grin as his jowels flopped to one side. She scratched his belly.

"Thanks puppy," she said. "You always know when to come over." Her mood had shifted, not to comfort but to something else entirely. She huffed through her nose and stood back up and stomped her foot.

"You all fucking suck! My dog has more emotional awareness in his nut sack than any of you losers," she said maybe a little louder than she had intended. Audrey Hepburn would be ashamed that she had been so crude, but that one got their attention. Every eye turned towards her in shock and amusement. She stood for a second. She was waiting for her mother or father to come and quietly scold her and then shuffle her away, but nothing happened. Everyone was still holding their mouths open. 

"I'm upset, I look fabulous, my drink has spilled, and none of you seem to care," she continued, beginning to find her stride in channeling Ms. Audrey. "Can't any of stop talking long enough to listen?" The room, almost as one, began to smile and then chuckle. One particularly impertinent young woman was about to laugh in her face.

"You stow that crappy cackle young lady," she said, pointing directly across the room as it fell silent again, "You have had more grape juice than anyone tonight and have told the same sad-sack story about your cousin sleeping with your ex-boyfriend six times in the last half hour. Save some for the rest of us, and instead talk about how glorious your toes look." The girl's pedicure was immaculate.

"I have been upset for ten minutes because no one will speak with me," she said, almost to her practiced fake tears. Not real tears mind you. Audrey would never have allowed her makeup to run. "Is there no one here interesting enough?" She paused. Took a breath. "Not you, sir. No colonoscopy in the world is perfect, but we need not ever have to imagine that process while making small talk. Drink your drink and shut up," she continued as she passed the unfortunate friend of her father's in the ill-fitting shirtsleeve and tie combo. She was on fire!

The room parted. She had a runway to walk, and she was sure there was a handsome young gentleman at the other end, waiting to speak to her about her fabulous shoes and where they might go shopping, or ice skating, or even, where the best place in the Alps was to go skiing! That would be exciting. She started walking, no, gliding across the room as she continued.

"You see, it's like this. I've got the mean reds." It just came out, and she knew where this was going. She leaned into it and it spilled out of her.

"You know what the mean reds are?" she continued. "You get 'em in your head, you're afraid, and you don't know what you're afraid of. You just have the horribles. You get 'em." There was no way anyone could interrupt this near perfect opportunity to monologue. She was going to have to slow down the strut if she was going to do the whole thing before she got to the other end of the party room.

"The blues are because you're getting fat, or maybe it's been raining too long. You're just sad, that's all. But the mean reds are horrible." A real tear might be coming, so she tried to push down her feelings but it was getting to be too much. She continued to saunter across the room and everyone was watching.

 "You're afraid, and you sweat like hell, but you don't know what you're afraid of. Except something bad is going to happen, only you don't know what it is." There was real emotion here, and she was about to continue until the man she had not quite been looking for stepped right in front of her.

"Whenever you get it," he said without missing a beat. "The only thing that does any good is to jump in a cab and go to Tiffany's. Calms me down right away. The quietness and the proud look of it. Nothing very bad could happen to you there." Her father knew all of the lines too. 

"If I could find a real-life place that made me feel like Tiffany's, then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name." He smiled as he finished the speech. He picked her up and gave her a hug like no one else could. "Oh, Audrey."

"Oh, Father." She hugged him back. "Now, put me down before you crease this near perfect outfit. I simply won't allow it." Her tears were streaming now. "Now, where is mother so that I may have her fix my hair and makeup?" He put her down and took the proffered hand like a gentleman.

"Why don't we find some ice cream first?" he said.

"That would be perfect," she said for when tempted by any frozen treat even Audrey was helpless to resist. She took his hand and they walked towards the kitchen. She smiled and looked up to her father. Her tantrum was over as even the promise of ice cream was good enough to fix even the worst mean reds.

The gathering of adults resumed after one perfect beat. The din of chatter and more than one chuckle chimed in as if her mid-party strut had never happened. There was, however, a conspicuous lack of ex-boyfriend stories and recountings of colonoscopy prep afterwards, and a greater appreciation of outfits, beauty tips, and more than a few glasses of grape juice than had been there previously. The dog had heard ice cream and had followed both of them to the kitchen at a trot.

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Year 1, Day 64 (and 65) - 0 businesses incorporated. 1 inane story.