Gray Hearts Episode Seven: Ascend

I hear the thunder first, rolling from the distance towards me like a herd of angry cattle. A moment later, a flash of lightning strikes a tree just off the path, sending a branch tumbling to the ground. I remember hearing that you shouldn’t be near trees in a lightning storm, but I’m not sure how I could be expected to follow that rule in a forest.

I quicken my pace and glance up towards the sky. The sunlight has faded behind a canopy of trees, but now I can see fat droplets of water cascading down. I tuck my notebook into the pocket of my dress and powerwalk down the trail.

I should’ve asked Prin how far away Summer is, I think with a sigh.

The rain falls faster, as if sensing my impatience, and I break into a half jog (I doubt my speed would qualify as a full jog). The flowers that dot the trail crumple under the weight of the rain, and I watch them wash away like wet tissues.

Another roll of thunder pierces the sky, and I duck to the ground as another bolt of lightning rips across the sky to strike the tree next to me.

At this point, it’s starting to feel like the storm is coming straight for me. I wonder if it’s Summer sending it to me. Maybe she’s less friendly than Prin. I pick up the long skirts of my dress (maybe I should’ve asked Prin for something other than the floral, frilly pink dress before setting off) and jump over a puddle. The rain is soaking my hair and clothes, and even though it’s warm, I feel myself shiver. I wipe water from my face and look ahead.

I can see a light in the distance. And then another. A few more steps, and I realize there’s an end to the forest just ahead. Framed by large trees, a castle sits on the other side of a moonlit lake. The rain fades away as I step out of the forest.

There’s a long bridge leading across the lake, and I can hear distant music behind the castle walls. It sounds like a party, and I look at my reflection in the lake. It’s just as bad as I expected. My dress is soaked through, my dark hair is flat and wet against my face, making me look like the apparition from a horror movie, and I have dirt caking my shoes. At least I’m back in my sneakers instead of the flats I’d been wearing at Prin’s.

I’d rather go anywhere else, but crashing a party is probably the only path towards Quinn, so I take a deep breath, march to the front, and knock on the large white door as hard as I can. It echoes inside, but no one comes.

I knock again and take a step back. The castle has to be at least five stories tall, with cream-colored stone and large, open windows where merry music floats from, sending small ripples across the lake. Maybe it’s because of the orchestra that no one can hear me.

I try one more time, and the door swings open before my knuckles even reach the wooden frame.

“You’re here!” an excited voice rings out as I’m simultaneously pulled inside the castle.

The door slams behind me, and I blink in the scene. The door is in a long hallway, filled with flickering candles. The walls are bare and white, and there’s a long, orange rug that runs from the door towards what I expect is the ballroom, judging from the music. There’s a woman facing me in a large gown. It’s a bright red with a poofy skirt that looks at least three times as wide as the woman and sleeves that lay gracefully just off her shoulders. Her face is youthful, so I can’t tell if she’s sixteen or thirty, and her big, dark eyes shine as she also takes me in.

“I heard you were coming,” she continues, her voice high-pitched from excitement, and she takes my hand in hers. “But look at you!”

I’ve already looked at myself, so I know exactly what she’s trying to say. I look up at her face and give a rueful, polite smile.

“There was a storm,” I say. “Sorry to bother you, but I’m just on my way—”

“I already know, silly,” she chides, pulling me past the ballroom.

There’s a stairway to the right, and she leads me up, shooting a bright smile back at me every few steps. I tell myself to stay focused, that Prin was already tricky enough and cost me so much time… but my legs are working on their own, trailing after the woman without pause. The stairs keep going up and up and up, and I can feel myself start to sweat. The woman, of course, doesn’t so much as mess up one strand of her elaborately curled dark hair, and she takes the final step with a light hop.

“I’ve got a hot bath and the perfect dress for you,” she says. “Obviously you’ll need a brush too.”

I self-consciously move a hand to my hair, and she laughs again.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll make sure you’re ready in no time.”

“Ready for what?”

“I’m Yeo-reum, by the way,” she says, ignoring my question. “You must have met my sister Prin already, if you came here. Does she still live in that tiny cottage?”

“Um… yes?”

She laughs again and swings open the door on her left, motioning me inside. It’s a bedroom, but it’s probably three times the size of my apartment back home. I can see a balcony behind wispy, white curtains and a large four-poster bed that looks like it’s calling my name. There’s a sitting area with plush chairs and a table already set with tea and cakes.

“I never understood why she preferred the modest life,” Yeo-reum says with a pointed look around the room. “What’s the point in living if not living your best life?”

She nods to the other end of the sitting area.

“There’s the bathroom over there, and I’ve already prepared a rose bath for you,” she says. “And I’ll have a gown waiting for you when you’re out.” She looks me over. “Why did Prin dress you in pink? Sky blue is obviously your color.” She tilts her head. “Or maybe a dark green?”

It feels like a question about more than colors, but I don’t know how to answer. I glance around. There’s only one door leading out (the one I came in from), but I can’t remember the path back to the entrance. I can see a balcony, but I doubt that’s an exit given how many stairs I’d climbed to come here.

I really need to stop following strangers.

She waves me away, and I find myself shuffling to the bathroom. The tub is filled and topped with red rose petals. My shoes are already tracking mud onto the porcelain floors, and I hastily kick them off and hurry to scrub myself.

I know there’s something important I need to get ready for. I just can’t remember what it is.

The tub is large enough for three of me, and I wonder why anyone would need a tub this big. Then again, if I had this much space and money, I’d probably invest in a great bathroom too. I find myself dozing off in the tub, and by the time I’ve finally climbed out and wrapped myself in a fluffy white towel, my skin is all wrinkled.

“Iris!” Yeo-reum calls out, her voice both light and insistent.

It reminds me of someone, calling for me to hurry up with my hair before we’re late for Homecoming… but the memory is gone as quickly as it came.

“Sorry! Coming!”

I rush out, still clad in only my towel. Yeo-reum is just outside, leaning against the balcony and turning her face up towards the moon. The breeze brushes strands of hair around her face, and something about this reminds me of a perfume commercial. She glances my way.

“I’ve left a dress on your bed,” she says. “And I’ll help you with your hair and make-up once you’ve changed.”

The dress on the bed looks like hers. It has a large, puffy skirt and off-the-shoulder sleeves, except it’s in a pale blue and reminds me a bit of a Cinderella dress. The fabric is so soft, I’m worried I’m going to rip it as I carry it behind a changing screen. There’s a bra in my size waiting for me, and I’m relieved it wasn’t a corset. I slip into the dress and fumble with the strings on the back.

“I’ll help you.” Yeo-reum’s voice is on the other side of the changing screen.

I step out, and she gives a gasp, her eyes shining as she looks me over a few times before giving an approving nod.

“I knew you’d clean up well,” she says, reaching for the back of my dress. “And you’re not even done yet. Oh, this is so exciting.”

She ties up the strings quickly before pulling me to the vanity table in the bathroom. I watch her run a brush through my tangles and pull my hair into a long braid that she loops up into a bun. She adds sparkling floral clips, and I try to get a better look at them in the mirror.

“Irises for Iris,” she confirms with a chuckle. “Now, for the makeup.”

“I don’t really wear makeup,” I say feebly, as she turns me around to face her.

“Why not?” Her brows shoot up. “Don’t you have a special someone you want to look nice for? Even for yourself, it’s nice to be beautiful, no?”

I close my eyes as she swipes brush after brush along my face, cheeks, and eyes. She adds a gloss to my lips and curls my eyelashes before letting me see my reflection in the mirror.

“See? Perfection,” she says with an approving nod.

I almost don’t recognize myself. The last time I was this dressed up (and I’m pretty sure I wasn’t even this level then) was prom.

Quinn had a long, green, off-the-shoulder dress and strappy silver heels she found at the Goodwill last week. Her makeup covered her freckles, which she was ecstatic about but I found myself missing, and her lips were a bright red that clashed beautifully with her orange hair (but she insisted they coordinated).

She sat at the edge of her seat as pop song after pop song blared through the speakers.

“Can you believe this is the last time we’ll be at a high school dance?” she shouted over the music.

“I can’t say I’ll miss it too much!” I yelled back.

The music was too loud, it was too dark, and I had to watch most of my classmates make-out, grind against each other, or cry on each other’s shoulder when the inevitable breakup happened in the middle of DJ Khalid’s latest hit.

Quinn made a face at me, and then the song changed to a slow melody. She stood up and held out her hand. I remember I gave her a confused look.

“Come on, Iris,” she insisted. “You can’t look back on high school and realize you never had a single dance.”

“You know I only came for the emotional support,” I retorted, but she didn’t accept that excuse.

She pulled me to my feet and towards the dance floor, spinning me around once before wrapping her arms around my waist. I was sure people were probably staring, but I only remember the soft look in her eyes as she mouthed the words to the song.

“I can’t wait til we’re out of here,” she says, breaking off her sing-along with a soft smile.

“I thought you were the one wanting to stay here instead of heading home,” I tease.

“I mean here like high school, silly,” she retorts with a laugh. “Away from the judgy people, where we can dance with who we want without the dirty looks, you know?”

I feel the weight behind her words and take a deep breath.

“And if… I don’t want to dance with anyone?” I say in what I hope is a lighthearted tone.

“Iris,” she says with a laugh. “I swear you’re going to keep this too-cool-for-dating vibe until your wedding day, aren’t you?” She winks at me. “It’s definitely going in my maid-of-honor speech, you know.”

I feel the smile plaster itself to my face, like all my muscles are focused on keeping my face neutral. That way I don’t have to focus on her words, or the way she seems to have forgotten them as soon as they left her mouth.

“Come on, Iris.”

This time, it’s Yeo-reum pulling me to my feet. I try to protest, but I find myself downstairs and outside of the ballroom before I even open my mouth. I look around.

“How did you—” I begin.

Yeo-reum ignores me and swings the door open. Music floods the hallway, drowning out anything I might have tried to say, and she leads me inside.

There’s a large crystal chandelier hanging in the center of the ballroom, with candles instead of light bulbs. I briefly wonder how they’re lit and if they’re dripping wax on the crowded dance floor below. I can see a champagne fountain in the corner, near tables filled with cakes, sandwiches, cookies, and punch.

But what I notice most are all the people. Men and women spin around the dance floor, in bright suits and long, poofy dresses. There’s an echo of laughter that pierces through the orchestra, which I can see stationed on the stage on the other end of the wall. I feel myself shiver at the size of the crowd.

“We’re just in time,” Yeo-reum says, clapping her hands together excitedly. “Oh, I do love a good dance.” She shoots me a smile. “I’m glad you came, Iris.”

“I,” I begin, feeling my heart flutter at her smile. It feels like stepping into the sun. “I didn’t come for the party, Yeo-reum. I’m trying to find my friend.”

Even as I say it, though, I’m trying to remember if that’s really why I came. After all, I’m in a ballgown and heels. Who would I be looking for in this?

“Yes, yes,” she says with the wave of her hand. “But it’s rude to discuss business at a place like this, you know.”

She takes my hand and spins me around. The music fills my ears as I turn around, the blur of the colorful dresses blending together in a soft rainbow that seems to close in all around me.