It was a crisp fall evening, the leaves had begun changing colour and falling to the ground, collecting in piles blown about by the wind. The last dying rays of the summer sun were setting the world ablaze with its hues of red, orange, and yellow. Tomorrow, when it rose again, it would officially be autumn. At the roundabout in front of the Metropolitan Convention Centre, Edith was helped out of her car by her daughter Annette and into a wheelchair. It was a new addition to her life, one that she wasn’t happy about. She had spent most of her life being fiercely, almost defiantly, independent; and now she was relegated to needing help to complete even the most basic of tasks. With one swift motion she had lost her freedom, that freedom to roam and live as she wished. Though she supposed that had been stripped down piece by piece over the years. It began when she had to be more conscious of what she was eating, and making sure she got enough exercise, then came the pills that she had to take every morning and evening. And now this, the wheelchair. She fussed about it, complained when it didn’t do what she wanted it to do, though she knew she was lucky to have it, and lucky to have family around to help her out and bring her where she wanted to go.

                Like tonight. They had organized their schedules so that Anne could escort her to the ball, the annual Harvest Moon Masquerade. Most would have balked at the idea of a woman her age, and in her condition, going to such a gala, but she had been going to the masked ball every year for the last fifty plus years, she wasn’t about to miss one now. She had a feeling that this one in particular was going to be memorable.

                Anne wheeled her up to the entrance where she presented Edith’s ticket to the man at the door. He looked it over and waved them in. They followed a tunnel of twinkling lights that sparkled and shined like diamonds, that opened up onto the main hall. It was a cavernous room, the ceiling disappeared above their heads and melded with the night sky, more twinkle lights adorned the ceiling like so many glittering stars. Giant chandeliers hung down like ice crystals. A fountain in the center of the room had a statue of a woman tipping a jug over, and people were walking up and filling their glasses with the golden amber liquid that was pouring out of it. Everyone was wearing an elegant gown or a black tuxedo and every mask was encrusted with jewels, feathers, and other things that sparkled and shined.

                “So this is where you’ve been coming all these years? I never knew you had such refined taste. This is quite the gathering,” Anne said. “I’m glad I could barrow this dress, nothing in my own closet would fit in here.” She ran her hands over the simple but sleek black dress she had found in her mother’s closet, and the gold necklace with a single diamond on it that had been passed down from her grandmother.

                “It wasn’t always so ostentatious. You know how these things get as more people catch wind of it,” Edith said. “The first year I attended it was fifty people, a stereo, and a punch bowl in a rented out bingo hall. That was the year Rose and I met.”

                Anne ignored the last comment and moved on. “Sounds great mom. Is there someone in particular we should be keeping an eye out for? A friend of yours?”

                “There’s one person that I hope makes it.” She didn’t elaborate further. Her kids had grown tired of these stories and weren’t interested in old tales of paths not taken. Instead she said, “You can park me right by the beverage table there, and then go find someone to dance with.” Anne looked concerned. “Don’t worry about me. I’m not planning to dance my legs off all night. Go and have some fun, dance with someone, try the statue punch. I’ll find you when I’m ready.”

                Anne gave her another look to say, You’re sure? Edith waved her off and took one of the pre-filled glasses of punch waiting on the table.

                The night carried on. Edith maintained her spot by the snacks and drinks where she had a clear view of the entrance and most of the dance floor. She scrutinized each mask and the person behind it, trying to decipher if it was the one person she was looking for. A couple people stepped in to see if she was all right, and if she needed anything, but most politely ignored her.

                She stood up and took three shaky steps over to the table to get another glass of punch when a woman came up behind her. “Here, let me help you with that. Should you even be up and walking if you’re in a wheelchair?” the woman held her up gingerly, wrapped her own hands around Edith’s, and guided her as she ladled the punch. She took her and helped her back to her wheelchair.

                “Thank you dear,” Edith looked up and was struck by how young and beautiful the woman was. “My name is Edith, but you can call me Edie. I don’t see anyone attached to your arm, what’s a young woman like you doing without a date?”

                “Well I’m not as young as I look,” the woman said with a sly wink. “And I am dateless tonight, but I could ask you the same thing. What’s a fiery woman like you doing here on the sidelines? You should be out on the dance floor tearing it up.”

                “I don’t think I’ll be tearing anything up in this thing,” she looked down at the wheelchair she was sitting in. “There’s only one person I’m interested in meeting here, foolishly waiting. The things love makes us do.”

                “I wouldn’t call it foolish, I think it’s rather beautiful.”

                Edie looked up at the woman, she was wearing a simple white mask with cheap plastic jewels glued on and a few feathers jutting out the top. It reminded her of the types of masks they used to wear when she first started coming to this gala. And the woman’s eyes hidden behind it, there was a softness to them. They were comforting. “Would you be able to help me out on the veranda for some fresh air?” she found herself asking before she even realized it.

                “I’d love to,” the woman said. She grabbed hold of the back of the wheelchair and wheeled her outside.

                They were alone out there, the air having a little more bite now that the sun had set. The woman took off her shawl and placed it around Edie’s shoulders for warmth. “So who is it that you’re waiting for?” she asked. “Your friend? Your partner? Your lover?”

                “She’s all three, and then some,” Edith smiled at the thought. “A lover, a partner, my very best friend, my confidant, my whole world.”

                “She sounds almost too good to be true, she must be quite the woman. Why isn’t she here now?”

                “She went missing one day. Left for work, didn’t make it there, and didn’t make it home. We were afraid of the worst, got the police involved, and filed a report. They did their searches, and asked their questions, but nothing came up. They never found a body, or her car. She just disappeared. With no sign of where she was, no leads or hints, she was declared dead and we buried an empty box in the cemetery.”

                “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up. I assumed she was at a meeting or something.”

                “Oh it’s quite all right,” It was liberating to talk about her so openly. Most of her family and friends seemed to have ignored that part of her life, blocked it out, skipped over it, like it had never happened. It didn’t take much prompting to get her to start spilling stories.

                “Why don’t you tell me a happier story?” The woman leaned back against the railing, the city laid out below them.

                Edie looked up at the stars dotting the sky, reaching back in time to those earlier and happier memories. “It was a whirlwind romance from the moment we met. In a flash we were dating, and then living together, and then getting married.”

                “Getting married, this woman was your wife!”

                “She was. When you meet someone like her you have to lock it down.” Edie laughed. “But really there was no question, we were going to be together forever. Until suddenly, we weren’t.” Her face fell at the memory.

                “We can talk about something else if you want.”

                “It feels good talking about her again. I rarely get the opportunity to talk about her like this. My family has heard these stories over and over again, and I don’t want to burden them with every few months. But they’re good stories to tell.”

                “Tell me how you met.”

                “I was twenty, or twenty-one, somewhere around there. This is going back some fifty years, the memory starts to go when you get to my age, and I find myself struggling more and more to reach so far back. But I was young and in school with this grand notion of becoming a teacher and molding the minds of the youth, guiding them along their paths in life. Or so I thought. It turned out I didn’t exactly have the predilection for schooling, or it didn’t like me, either way it was a messy breakup when I finally decided to leave.

                “I was sitting outside after having officially dropped out, sobbing into my hands, fearful of the future and the uncertainty it held, when I felt this tap on my shoulder. There was this young woman with these gorgeous violet eyes looking down at me. She looked me in the eyes and said, ‘a woman as pretty as you shouldn’t be so upset, let’s change that.’

                “I don’t know why, looking into those eyes, I felt like I could trust her. Like I had already known her all my life, like she was my best friend. So I got up, we jumped in her car, and drove down to the beach. She bought me ice cream, and we hiked around to this secluded cliff, stripped down and jumped off into the water.”

                “That sounds like a beautiful day.”

                “It was the start of a beautiful life. One where the fears of the future never touched my mind. While we were together I always knew, whatever happened, we’d be all right. We’d get through it. And for years we did. She said I was like the moon guiding her through the darkness of night. Then one day it all came crashing down. And that was the end.”

                “But that’s not the end of the story, is it? What do you think happened?”

                Edie thought about it, trying to unify the two sides of her mind. The optimistic side that said she was still alive and out there somewhere, and the pessimistic side that said something terrible happened. “If she did leave, maybe something happened and she had to – forced to leave for some…I don’t know, some reason.”

                “Like she had a secret that was about to be revealed? Nothing bad, nothing that would make you afraid of her, or hate her. But that secret coming out might have put you in danger.” It was like the woman was speaking Edith’s thoughts. Reaching into her mind and plucking everything she was feeling, everything she was hoping. “She loved you, more than anyone else she’d ever known, and didn’t want to risk putting you through that.”

                “Exactly, something like that.”

                “I hope you know she’s still watching out for you, helping you, guiding you, even if you can’t always see her. That her love for you never diminished, and only grew stronger in the years since she left.”

                “I know, oh I know. This gala is one of the many things we shared. So I keep coming back, year after year, to relive those early memories, and hope that maybe this year she’ll make an appearance.” Edith looked up at the stranger, and for the first time noticed the violet tint to her eyes. She shook her head. “But why am I telling you all this? These are just the rambling stories of an old woman.”

                “Well, I love hearing them, it’s nice to know there’s still love like that in the world.” The woman knelt in front of Edie, placed her hands in her own. A chilled wind blew across the open veranda as they listened to the faint sound of the music on the other side of the door. The song changed from an upbeat swing to a slow string number, and the woman looked at Edie. “Say, would care for a final dance?”

                “For the night,” she agreed. “But I hope it’s not the last dance ever.” She wheeled herself back through the door and onto the dancefloor. They faced each other, and Edie locked her wheels in place and pushed herself up and out of the chair. Her arms shook with the effort and the woman helped her up and held her close. They danced slowly, back and forth, Edith placing her head on the woman’s shoulder, that familiar smell once again flooding her memories.

                When the song was done Edie eased herself back down into the chair. The woman leaned forward and whispered, “it was good seeing you again. Hopefully we’ll meet again soon Luna.”

                Edie choked back as a single tear escaped her eye. She took out a handkerchief and dabbed it away. She looked up but the woman was gone.

                Edith signalled to her daughter that she was done, and they wheeled back to the car.

                “I didn’t see you for a while there,” Anne said. “Did you friend make it?”

                “She did,” Edith said. “She did.” They drove home in silence.

                She received the postcard three days later. One thing she had never told the police when Roslyn went missing all those years ago; like clockwork, every three months, she’d receive a blank postcard from somewhere in the world. She tracked them on a map with tiny pins and labels with the date written on it. This latest one was from three towns over. She knew the next few postcards would be getting farther and farther away, but she hoped they would start circling back again soon.