After Dark

Well past midnight, the moonlight glinted off their masks– plague masks. The figures danced, flawlessly in confident classical steps, and Delilah’s breath caught in her throat as she watched in awe. They were brilliant. The figures moved so wonderfully, Delilah's breath caught. The soft silver glow cast by the twilight sky made the scene seem almost ethereal, as her eyes adjusted to the scarce light. There were three of them, or rather three couples, waltzing through the pale green grass. The men wore full suits and coats of grey, the women with full length gowns of white, that appeared to Delilah like liquid starlight. The masks should have filled her with unease, but instead they each appeared like elegant works of art. The women’s were white and fitted with lace, and somehow looked delicate, their pointed beaks glimmering in the soft moonlight. She watched the center-most man pull his partner close, her Victorian era dress twirling through the chill night air– Delilah couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. As if watching the display were some unforgivable offense, as if it were a private matter, not meant for her prying eyes. But a small part of her felt as if they were performing for her.

“47th after midnight.” The note had read. And here she was. The old field by 47th street. It couldn’t have been a coincidence, could it? Perhaps the message was for someone else– dropped there accidentally, and they had arrived regardless. The note itself was rather cryptic, she thought as she gazed at the Victorian dressed individuals twirling through the night. This had not at all been what she was expecting, not that she was expecting anything. She found herself mesmerized by the dancer's grace as her eyes were inexplicably drawn to the man in the center of the field. His movements had the richness and flow of polished marble. As smooth as satin, he spun his partner then dipped her low to the ground, and with a pause his head flicked up, his masked face staring across the field– directly at Delilah. 

As they locked eyes– or rather Delilah assumed they were locking eyes, despite the hindrance of his mask– Delilah’s pulse quickened, like butterfly wings beating against her chest. She hadn’t meant to get caught, only to catch a glimpse. Before she knew it her feet had carried her halfway home in a sprint, and she was coated in a thin sheet of sweat, despite the chill autumn air. She caught her breath beneath a street lamp. She drew her chilly fingertips to her mouth for warmth– and there she felt a smile spreading across her lips. She let out a breath and laughed quietly.

What have I just seen? And why was it so wonderful?

***

For the next few days, Delilah’s mind kept drifting back to that night. To the man in the mask dancing in the moonlight. Was it her imagination, or was he terribly familiar? His liquid movements felt as if she’d seen them before, in the same way you can recognize a family member or friend simply from the back of their head. As for unrelated matters, she found it nice to have gained a few new quirky customers that she’d like to consider friends. “Delilah,” a familiar voice called.

“Hmm?” she looked up from her daze, to see an impatient Pearl, nodding at the full tables and waiting customers.

“Oh!” Delilah squeaked her apologies.

But before she could scurry off to serve her tables, Pearl whispered in her ear “You’re really going to keep such a handsome customer waiting?” her eyes flicked to a familiar face waiting patiently at a booth– it was Wesley. At this, Delilah’s already blushing face turned almost as red as Pearl’s hair. Pearl just shook her head with a veiled smile as the young woman scrambled away, muttering a variety of apologies and excuses.

***

After all her tables had been served, including Wesley’s, Delilah had a moment to herself, and she slid into the booth to sit across from him. He smiled at her, offering her one of his scones. Delighted, she took one, they just happened to be her favorite seasonal flavor; apple butter. “How goes the studies?” she asked, taking a mouthful of the baked confectionery. Ever since he had saved her from his overly flirtatious friend’s advances several weeks ago, they’d become fast friends, as they’d taken to chatting during her breaks when he visited the cafe. At first she was taken off guard by his good looks, but the effects seemed to have subsided as she’d settled into their friendly banter. That is– unless he stared too intensely at her… or made eye contact, which was a rather difficult thing when you were in the presence of someone so much more attractive than yourself. That aside, he also seemed to have a lovely personality. Some people really do have it all. She thought wistfully.

“Quite well. When can I hope you’ll be joining me in my studies?” he said, sipping his coffee.

Delilah laughed, at what she thought was very clearly a joke. Strangely, he didn’t laugh back. She peered at him. “Are you serious?” she leaned in, lowering her voice. “You do see where I work don’t you?”

“And? Is there some terrible secret you carry that keeps you from attending?”

She blinked at him, afraid her cheeks would start turning red. She wanted to quickly change the subject. Speaking of secrets. She figured now was as good of a time as any to confront her suspicions, and divert his attention elsewhere. Worst case scenario he would think she was a loon. Although, if she was elusive enough… perhaps he wouldn’t.

“ Speaking of secrets…” She leaned forward in her seat. “You’re not so sneaky as you think,” Delilah said cheekily.

Wesley’s eyes narrowed. “And just what do you mean by that?”

Delilah gave a sheepish grin. “I saw you.”

He stared blankly, his bright green eyes watching her intensely, waiting for her to elaborate.

“Well…” she twirled a strand of deep brown hair between her fingertips. "I mean I saw you the other night.”  She was being vague, just in case her suspicions were false.

Wesley cocked his head to the side, “did you?”

She nodded, and she could feel her heart beating quickly in her chest.

He leaned in closer to her, and she could hear her pulse in her ears. “Is that so?” He rested his chin on his knuckles, staring intently at her.

“Y-yes, you and your friends were….” She trailed off as she searched for the right words. Words that wouldn’t make her sound crazy if she was wrong. But she was right– wasn’t she? She had been sure of it, but now, under his piercing gaze she began to question herself.

He broke his stare with a glance at the shiny watch on his wrist. It looked like it was worth more than a month of Delilah’s salary. “Oh look at the time, I really must be off,” he said suavely.

“W-wait! It– it was you, wasn't it?”

“What was?” He turned to her with a grin as he reached the door. Delilah found herself scrambling after him– then abruptly stopping herself at the door, remembering the apron she wore. Damn it all. She thought ruefully, tugging at the hem of her apron, which now seemed more like a chain tying her to the remaining three hours of her shift. She began to pout– though not intentionally. She’d never been the type to pout before, but this was the first interesting thing in her life in ages. It had been years since she’d felt this type of excitement, to have friends to speak with friends, and have a web of secrets and mysteries to untangle…

A warm hand interrupted her from her spiraling mind, as he took her hands in his. She looked up to see his pale grassy green eyes. “I’ll wait for you. Tomorrow, after your shift. Then we can discuss whatever it is that you think you saw.” His lips gently brushed the back of her hand before he released her and turned towards the door. Delilah’s cheeks began to burn, as her eyes went wide in surprise. 

What was that!?

But he stopped with his hand posed on the door handle. “Oh, and Lilah,” his voice was velvety again, “I’ll have a surprise for you. I think you’ll enjoy it.” 

After he’d left, Delilah stood there a moment as her heart threatened to beat its way out of her chest. She didn’t know whether to squeal like a girl, or sulk away. Had he really kissed her hand? That sort of thing only happened in movies and books didn’t it? Perhaps she could clear her head as she cleared away the dishes, she thought as she took a step back. Instead, she found herself clumsily bumping into someone. Who on earth would stand so close to someone’s turned back– 

Pearl peered down at her, fresh bouncy curls, and a grin spread across her face. “My oh my, was that the Wesley Cove?” 

Delilah’s cheeks turned a bright bright red– brighter almost than the color of Pearl’s curls. She quickly covered her mouth to hide the bashful smile that was there, then cleared her throat.

 “Perhaps.” She squeaked, quickly ducking around the woman. The best way to get Pearl to leave you alone was to vigorously do your work. But then a thought stopped her– a teacup slipping from her hand and clattering to the table. She must’ve heard everything! Delilah thought in alarm as she turned to face her boss.

Pearl winced at the sound. “Please not another one, my dear, dear Delilah. We’ve already had three accidents this month.”

“I– don’t you change the subject, you were eavesdropping weren’t you!?”

The grin flashed across Pearl’s face again. “I would never,” she said, placing a dramatic hand to her chest. “Besides, you were on the clock after all,” she said, studying her ruby red nails. 

“I was on a break!” Delilah huffed, then went about clearing the table, holding up each plate and mug to see their bottoms. 

Pearl draped herself across the seat of the other booth, her head rolling back to view Delilah’s work. “What ever are you doing?”

Delilah’s face soured at the woman, as much to her disappointment, she found nothing beneath the dishes. “Nothing.” She said morosely.  

“Say, are you and Wesley a thing now?” Pearl pressed on, never deterred by bothering to read a room.

“I–” Delilah paused. Were they a thing? She really didn’t know. They’d chatted a few times, and she’d even seen him outside the cafe on several occasions, but she’d never expected that. Her fingers touched the hand that his lips had caressed, then she shook her head. She decided to give up all pretense of work, and she instead slumped into the booth she was clearing, leaving Pearl and her back to back. She pressed her face into her hands, and let out a long sigh.

 “There, there child. Wesley attends the school doesn’t he?” Pearl said, switching seats, to sit across from Delilah.

 “Yes, he does.” By ‘school’ Delilah knew she meant university, a far more daunting term.

Pearl smiled, this time much softer. “I was your age too once.”

Upon her saying that, Delilah let her eyes examine her for the first time in full. Past the subtle lines of age– mostly smile and laugh lines, Pearl was extremely attractive, even still today. Forty years ago, she must have had every boy on her tail. Delilah was always too busy working, or maybe even just too familial with the woman, to fully appreciate the woman’s beauty. Delilah nodded, though she didn’t quite think Pearl fully understood the intricacy of her situation. Despite this, a wistful look had crossed Pearl’s face as she reminisced.

Delilah looked down at her own hands, picking at a crumpled napkin. 

  “Tell me, have you visited the old soccer field past midnight?” Pearl asked. At this, Delilah’s hands stopped toying with the napkin, freezing into place as Pearl continued. “Do they still dance?”

Delilah looked up abruptly. She opened her mouth to speak, but she found no words. How did she know?

Pearl winked as she excused herself from the booth. “Come along, we have much to discuss,” Pearl said, placing the closed sign in the window. 

***

Delilah gaped. Closing the Morning Glory Cafe was unheard of– Pearl had once made Delilah work on Christmas day. Now they sat in Pearl’s parlor, which Delilah thought would have made a much better name for a cafe than the Morning Glory. She had never actually been invited inside Pearl’s home, only the sun room– her home was lovely. And it suited the woman, with plush vintage upholstered sitting chairs and sofa, and a glass coffee table, the room was decorated with viny plants and oil paintings.                                                                                                   

“You’ve heard of universities having secret societies, yes?” Pearl questioned as she poured two cups of spiced tea. Delilah nodded slowly– though inside her heart leapt and jumped. She knew it! 

Delilah waited, surely there must be more. When Pearl said nothing, Delilah bit her lip, moving to pick up her teacup.

“--not yet, it’s too hot.” Pearl swatted at Delilah’s hand. 

“Well aren’t you going to tell me more? You know I hate waiting!” Delilah whined, forcing her hands to fold in her lap.

Pearl shook her head, hiding her amusement. Despite how she went on, both of them knew how dearly Pearl cared for Delilah. One might compare her to the daughter she never had (although Pearl did in fact have a daughter) but their relationship was more akin to Pearl being the fun loving aunt. Pearl rolled her eyes dramatically. “Well it wouldn’t be much of a secret society if I spilled all the secrets would it?”

 Delilah’s nostrils flared. “That’s all you brought me here to tell me?”

Pearl shrugged, nodding towards the tea she had chided Delilah for trying to drink. “Well the rest is for you to find out, now isn’t it?”

“And just how am I supposed to go about doing that?” Delilah said heatedly. “If you hadn’t noticed, I don’t exactly attend the university, nor do I have the ability to!”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” Pearl said sternly.

“One word, tuition.” 

Pearl side eyed her, sipping the same tea that she had told Delilah was ‘too hot’. “They have scholarships, you know. And sponsors.”

“And just who would sponsor me?” 

Pearl huffed. “With that attitude, no one I suppose.”

Delilah sighed. She didn’t know why she was taking her frustrations out on Pearl, really. It was the mystery really, so many secrets, and Delilah’s curiosity itched at her something terrible. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. 

“What was that dear? Do speak up, you know my age.” Pearl feigned.

Delilah glared, knowing full well she heard her. She aggressively picked up and sipped her tea, wincing as she did so. Pearl had an irritating habit of being right, and even more frustratingly, a shameless self awareness of this tendency.

“Too hot?” asked Pearl in a saccharine voice.

Delilah glared, before failing to restrain a chuckle. The two of them shared a small unexpected laugh, as Pearl went about fetching her a cool glass of water. 

***

The meeting with Pearl had proved useful in one way. Now Delilah’s suspicions were confirmed– there was a secret society, or at least some sort of secret group that met in the dead of night. She hadn’t just dreamt it. Now to prove that Wesley was in fact a part of it. She thought back to that night. The tall figure of a man in grey, twirling a girl in the moonlight. Starlight dancing off their long pointed masks. Delilah felt a pang of something in her gut. Was that jealousy? Jealousy of what exactly? It wasn’t as if Wesley was hers… Although… she wouldn’t be complaining if he were. But no, Delilah did not pursue romance, she pursued a simple, peaceful life. But who was she kidding really? She was bored. Each day she got up, dressed herself in the same vintage dresses and warm cardigans, then worked the same hours at the same cafe. Dreams were just that– dreams. Reality was different, and the best she could do was make her own reality a cozy and comfortable one. But if a secret society, or adventure were to come calling… she might take a harmless peek.

***

The next night she saw the same figures– or she presumed they were the same figures, Delilah wasn’t exactly sure how many folks the town had that took habit of prancing through the town in full Victorian attire. Only this time, they were inexplicably parading down her street– past her little house. The women flounced down the street fanning themselves delicately with decorative fans. The attire was largely the same, only this time they all wore masquerade masks– all but one, and he wore a plague mask– and Delilah simply knew it was him. His movements, the bits of his tawny hair shining in the street lamps. Delilah found herself leaning forward on the porch rail, drawn in by their masquerade, and as she did so the man in the mask turned to her. With gloved fingers, he bowed his head and tipped his hat. Delilah all but tumbled to the ground as she scrambled for cover out of view. Feeling absolutely silly she let a moment pass before she peeked above the railing, her cheeks still flushed with embarrassment. But they were gone– except her eyes locked onto something small that lay on the steps. 

Tiptoeing carefully down the cold porch steps, she peered down at an envelope with a golden seal. She turned it over with shivering hands, and in the dim starlight she read; 

Delilah

Inside her chest, her heart soared.