The ball had just the right amount of bell skirts and brass buttons! Not a soul could tell you when the party started nor when it was forced to end. The champagne outlasted the brandy and the white gloves were succeeded by sweaty hands callused by the groping of another. Julia had been proposed to upon the stroke of midnight and she was already in a hurry to get to the church by sunrise. Her sister spread the good news and soon enough there was another dance in demand over the celebration of what everyone whispered should have happened long ago. The old fathers were standing with their cigars for a good hour watching the young ones, reminiscing about the days when they could dance the Jitney into the morning. It all seemed absolutely wonderful. The band had tips flopping out of their cuffs by the time they made it to the last sheet of music, though they all knew it would be another hour before they could set down their bows and picks and let their fingers rest a bit. The cello player played just for Julia, secretly, he hoped she could hear his low strums and swings and think of him. The child sitting beside the stage holding his dog quietly wept over the loss of his dream girl. A man no one saw the face of, after hearing the news, exited the building. There was a toast and an uproar of laughter, a photograph was taken of the young pair sipping their drinks and holding hands. Everyone insisted that they take the floor and have their own dance as future husband and wife. Pinching her fiancé’ cheek, Julia convinced her man to follow her out and take her hands. People made jokes about how he’d “better give up now.” They laughed their way to the center of the room and stared into each other’s eyes, they took hold and synched their steps to the score. Julia was a lovely dancer; she knew this one well and tried her best not to lead. Her man, Willy, laughed at her when she whispered to him the beats, her father clapped when they swung around the room and made just about everyone jealous.

   “You are beautiful,” said Willy. He meant it too, he had never met a girl as beautiful as Julia and now he held her and could think about kissing her and waking up to her. He thought she was the most beautiful girl in the room, and she really was. The crowd soon joined them when Julia begged them to and soon enough the laughter and tempo was shot high passed the chandeliers. Julia glanced out the window as she spun by it and saw the back of a man smoking a cigarette. She wished he would come inside where it was warm. When the fathers decided it was time for the party to end everyone moaned, sighed, then cheerfully yawned towards the doors. Another impromptu proposal happened in the corner of the room between Gordy the baker’s son and his sweetheart Evelyn who was glad to whisper “yes” into his ear in the privacy of a candlelit corner. They left the building arm in arm beaming over their little secret. Julia waved them goodnight as she followed her family down the sidewalk.

   “Goodnight Julia,” said Liam the painter, taking a step into the light as her family passed him by.

   “Goodnight Liam, get home safely!” She said back with a smile and a wave. He turned away and headed the opposite direction. Willy kissed Julia on the cheek and squeezed her close.

   “That Liam didn’t dance one dance tonight. Odd fellow,” said her father, lighting a new cigarette. Even the old man had taken a few turns on the floor; he never passed up the chance to steal the show with his bellhop waltz. Julia laughed it off and hid in the collar of her man, smelling his rich cologne and feeling his smooth neck on the cold tip of her nose.