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“Ivy? Hello? Is that a ‘yes?’ Please?”
I take my eyes off the Rosamond costume and then look into my sweet friend’s face on the phone. She’s already done up for Halloween as Dorothy from ‘The Wizard of Oz’ with fresh makeup and ridiculously red cheeks, making her look younger than her twenty-six years, especially with her blonde hair in two braids. I haven’t had the heart to tell her that Dorthy from ‘The Wizard of Oz’ isn’t a fairytale.“Yes, I’ll do it for you,” I concede. Maybe she’s right. It is Halloween, after all, and I can’t continue to let Scott’s bad actions continue to interfere with my social life.
“Ivy, this is going to be the start of the next chapter. A better chapter. Maybe you’ll meet your knight in shining armor?”
I don’t respond because, of course, I want to move forward. I want to be that woman who’s strong, like in all the Ted talks I’ve watched about women overcoming rape, but when I think about what happened and the aftermath of my reputation being ruined, it’s difficult to be myself again.
Scarlett doesn’t say anything more except, “I’ll see you there, and I promise I won’t be late.”
I end the call. I mock her slightly with a smile, “I promise I won’t be late.” I love Scarlett, but she’s always late.
* * *
At our favorite bar’s All Hallows’ Eve party, I take a deep breath and enter the crowd. I’m purposely twenty minutes late, so I’m sure Scarlett is already here or will be in just a few minutes.
There are so many people. I’m having trouble finding Scarlett and my other friends. We’re all supposed to be dressed as fairytale characters, and for some foolish reason, I assumed we’d be unique. Instead, it seems as if a lot of other women had the same idea of fairytale women out on town. I feel slightly guilty that I went for the black lace vampire over Rosamond when I see all the other women.
I take out my phone from my flimsy silk costume purse and try to call her. She doesn’t pick up, which means she’s probably here and can’t hear my call. I walk further into the bar, surrounded by people in all kinds of costumes, scanning the patrons for my friends.
A momentary wave of fear passes through me as a few men look in my direction and eye me up and down, but I push my anxiety down. Not every man is a rapist, I remind myself. I’ve had a handful of boyfriends before none of them ever hurt me. Be strong. I run my hands over the smooth black fabric of my Victorian vampire dress, this old favorite gives me confidence.
When I reach the end of the bar, I still haven’t found my friends. Then, as if a bucket of ice water was being poured over me, I hear a familiar voice, “Well, look who it is! If it isn’t Ivy.” He extends the ‘e’ sound at the end of my name, making it sound like a curse.
I turn to see Scott and a few of his friends. I instantly turn back around quickly, intent on leaving. I have to get out of here.
Scott is in pursuit. He’s trying to talk to me. Wildly, I’m pushing through the crowd of costumed customers all having a good time. It’s like I’m invisible. No one is moving for me. I begin sweating and wipe my face with my black lace-gloved hand. I’m burning up. The room starts to spin. I can’t find the exit. I can’t remember which way it is, and I’m too short to see over some of these people. I can’t breathe.
I will my feet to keep moving to keep saying, “Excuse me,” as I push past the intoxicated people who can’t hear me very well in the bar. I look behind me, and Scott is still behind me. I have to get away.
Bump. I run into a big wall. I look up. It’s not a wall at all. It’s a rock-hard man that’s well over six feet tall. My hand accidentally touches his cool, bare forearm, and he feels like a living statue and looks like he could be Hercules’ brother with incredibly long black hair. He’s gorgeous and dressed as a grey-skinned knight in shining armor, which is a very original costume. I have a moment where I wish I would have worn my Rosamond costume, but then my trance with the knight is shattered when I hear Scott say my name again. “I’m sorry,” I say to the handsome man, trying to pass him.
The knight seems confused and begins to say something to me, but then Scott interrupts by calling me a “Bitch,” and grabs me by the decorative hood on the cape of my costume, which forces me backward. I almost fall, but the gorgeous knight holds both of my hands in the nick of time to keep me from falling backward. My hands feel tiny in his large ones but thoroughly protected. I feel like he has to concentrate on not holding me too tightly, or he might break me.
The knight steadies me while looking into my eyes to make sure I’m okay. His grey eyes are magnificent, and I feel as if he’s looking into my soul. For a second, as crazy as it is, I feel a spark of recognition. Have I met this man before? Is he famous?
The knight searches my face too, as if he’s trying to remember how we know each other.
Then Scott interrupts our moment again, “Don’t get involved with her. She’s trouble.”
“Would you like me to take care of this unpleasant man for you?” the knight asks in the most deliciously deep voice.
What do I have to lose? I nod. “Yes, thank you.” Before I can ask what he’s going to do, he turns around and calmly punches Scott. He hits him hard enough he falls to the floor in a mess of blood and begins yelling like a toddler.
I’m pleasantly stunned.
The knight turns back to me, “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
I feel like I’m in a trance. Is this real, or am I dreaming?
The knight patiently repeats his question to me. He has a slight accent I don’t recognize, but I find it mysterious. Our eyes meet in a strange way, again and again. I have the feeling I know him from somewhere.
After a few seconds, I find my voice, although it’s shaky, “I didn’t expect a knight in shining armor to come to my rescue.” I realize after I say the words that sound very cheesy, but he is dressed like a knight and just punched the villain in my life. Scarlett would definitely approve of this scenario and say it was meant to be.
“Men should never hurt women with actions or words,” he says as if this is something everyone believes. Maybe he really is a knight or just playing the part well this evening.
Behind us, Scott is surrounded by his friends, who are now helping him up and yelling insults at the knight and me.
I take in the knight’s appearance again. He’s big, and his costume exposes his well-defined muscles, and he obviously knows how to fight. And is that a real sword? One would have thought Scott and his friends would have backed off, but apparently, you can’t predict stupid. This man may be protecting me now, but he looks dangerous.
