Picking up on my surroundings bit by bit, a fairly difficult task for me to undertake as everything entrapped in my vision screamed 'huge!', I find myself completely motionless and speechless. I'm deeply caught off guard by the open vastness and sophistication that is this house. My jaw drops low, extending down to my feet like the fluttering willowy curtains flaring over the large glistening windows, the midsection of clear glass peaking through the opening of the bright thin fabric being pushed outwards and in from the gentle wind that brushes behind through the half opened windows. Plenty of well-dressed strangers lingered across the colossal halls adding on to my amazement of how ridiculously huge inside this building is. Almost all of them sipping on what appears to be vintage red wine, including a blonde lavish-looking lady currently strutting down towards my direction.

I could somehow feel my mother tensing up behind me. They must know each other.

"You must be Izabella." The glamorous lady grinned. My eyes widen at the sight of her recognizable smile, the corner of her lips curling up to her cheeks, defining her round cheeks and forming small crinkles under her wide eyes. It finally hits me. That precise smile, so familiar and only one person I know has it- well at least I thought so. It's a smile I wake up every morning hoping to see, even when I least expect it.

I attentively nodded and glanced at mom, waiting for her to confirm my thoughts. Mother grudgingly smiled comprehending my anticipation and confessed, "Nice to see you, Candace." Ignoring the sourness in her tone and her low volume, I smirked in satisfaction to know I was right. The smirk on my face dissolved however as I become painfully aware of the risen tension. It could be easily cut into two.

Mother seems to be imprisoning peculiar thoughts towards Candace in her head, telling from the aggravation shown within the stress marks lining across her forehead, the furrowing of her eyebrows and deeply sunken surface of her reddened cheeks. I notice Candace forcing on a perky smile but I admire her glamorous look and posture right after. Her bouncy, wavy blonde hair collapsed onto her sharp shoulders. Her emerald green eyes twinkled along with her powdered rosy cheeks. Her long arms slung over her narrow hourglass figure and her smooth hands is deposited over her slim waist. The bodacious deep red dress complements her lean body and astounding makeup.

Mother manages to pull off a pleasant smile as well, though it took her long enough to. Candace suddenly whispers into mother's ear, their body shifting away from where I stand so I'm facing just their backs.  I get this unnerving feeling that I have no place in this conversation and am discouraged from having any involvement in it. I start to feel awfully awkward as I just stand there, seeing my mother and aunt maintaining their odd interactions. I slowly walk away without them acknowledging my departure and decide to explore the heck out of this place. 

I take my time to observe and take in all I can see, and so far I am even more impressed  than the moment I first step foot into the building. Rows of tables and chairs extends from both sides of the room. Tall poles connect the ceiling to the ground giving the inside a sophisticated structure, and chandeliers hung to the ceiling lit the whole room . An unused grand piano sits in the corner, where a few people exchanging words and laughs with each other are leaning against it or hovering over it. 

My mind boggles at the stark contrast between this house and where I live. I climb up a flight of stairs that winds endlessly in a spiral motion and began pondering over why we were living in a broken house while a relative of ours lives...here. My emotion shifts once again into a negative one. My mind drifts away to the unforgettable time our house somehow got so badly contaminated that we were forced to leave it behind. We were seeking manageable shelters, settling in them until notified that our house was deemed safe but still vulnerable.

But regardless of that, I struggled with a troubling internal conflict of arriving at a state of comfort and abiding to the horrid conditions. A home is suppose to provide protection and comfort for the owner, not despair. But the big question is where was Candace that whole time? Why didn't my mother contact her if she knew she'd had enough money to help us? Why did she let us suffer when it could've been so easily avoidable. I always thought we had no one so there was no hope for the better. And everyone we did know lived through similar conditions as us. The most help we've gotten from our family members was from my dad's brother and my uncle, Ben. He offered father a job where he received minimal money but that's the best that could be offered. I reached an upper floor, though unsure of what floor I'm on, since my mind wasn't down on earth and I continue thinking deeply about this as I serve myself a red fruit punch displayed on a glass table. 

As I reflect on the series of events in my life and how they don't add up, I become conscious and highly aware of the irregularity of this situation. I feel so out of place here and it's not because I feel homesick, its by far anything but that. I couldn't be far more happier than to be as much far and distant from my house to which for sure has no qualities that I or anybody who'd prefer any sense of comfort and warmth would miss if I'm to be honest. I'd do more good for myself by living anywhere else but my house. But the problem comes within my lack of familiarity with all these people roaming up and around the house. You'd usually find family members and close friends in a birthday party, but this is definitely not the case right now. 

I strolled down a hallway leading into another big space of room where even more people chattered and drank. I set a goal for myself to find people close to my age. Not that I would actually socialize with them if I were to find this group of people that seems to be nonexistent in this so-called 'party'. Everywhere I look, there are people looking over twenty or thirty, some of whom looks quite intimidating or too stern and sophisticated to have a cheerful conversation with. I expected families and friends of ours to be here but my expectations are almost too often familiar with not being reached. 

I try to diminish the reoccurring thoughts of mines by satisfying myself with a cold refreshing fruit punch. I envisioned it to be wine to boost my perception of my maturity. I always catch father drinking them, or taking swigs of some type of alcoholic drink. There were some nights where I would leave my bedroom and head right into the kitchen, stepping on my tiptoes to silently have a sip of this bottled magic father seems to love so much. Though this cycle stopped after he somehow took notice of the subtracted portion of the frizzy liquid. He sat me down, giving me an intimidating lecture on what very bad things alcohol can do to you and the deadly risks that comes with drinking them. My little young naive self believed every word but was confused at the frequent sight of him contradicting himself by in-taking a large quantity of alcohol every day, though not until I grew up realizing that all those scary effects that he'd insist would happen after drinking were all an exaggeration with only the intentions to scare me away from it and to not mess with his drinks. But still of course I understood the consequences of drinking too much alcohol.  The more I grew up, the more he would raise the age limit for drinking, obviously not wanting me anywhere near it. I really hope he doesn't think I'm as stupid as to believe his myths. When age strives, maturity does as well. And when maturity strives, wisdom follows. At least I think so.

To my surprise, my bare skin is scattered with goosebumps, tingling to the sudden touch of something much colder. I direct my eyes to the top of my exposed shoulder where the source of coldness seems to emerge from. A masculine hand gripped loosely around my shoulder envelops me in an aura of discomfort. I felt a jolt in my chest as I gasp, my heart pounding simultaneously. My hand raises to my chest, trying to normalize my irregular breathing patterns. I turn on my heels almost too quickly that I felt myself about to trip over my feet, but I'm quickly propped back up to my feet when I'm given support by the stranger, who not more than just a second ago nearly gave a 16 year old heart attack, after he grips me once again but this time about my waist and lower back so I don't rupture my spines or crack my skull open from hitting against the smoothed hard surface of the ground. My cheeks redden for many reasons and I find myself standing before a middle aged looking man, who's heightening my embarrassment by giggling under his breath. No surprise there. His broad hands ran swiftly through his done brunette hair, short and sophisticated, bouncing from the sudden motion his hand created then cascading back down to his head. His white teeth is exposed, contrasting his wide dark eerie eyes. He shoves both his hands into the pocket of his dress pants but brings one out to make gestures. 

"Sorry if I've startled you a bit there," the strange man finally speaks, "Correct me if I'm wrong but I suppose you are the birthday girl this birthday party is being thrown for, is that right?" He emphasizes on the 'birthday' when he speaks.

Still startled, I answer, "Umm...yes how did you know?" Still coping from the pool of embarrassment and shame I've cast myself in, my anxiety doubles and the aura of discomfort still absorbs me in as I'm socially incapable of maintaining a smooth conversation or any form of interaction with a stranger.

"I'm actually a childhood friend - best friend, of your mom. unfortunately I could barely make time to pay a visit to your house but she's shown me several pictures of you when we would hang out. And boy I say shes got a hell lot of them in her purse. And may I also say, you look even more beautiful in person."

"Ummm" that's the only sound of response capable of leaving my mouth. My eyes are now glued to only my toes, trying to avoid his eyes which I could feel examining me, gravely anticipating to get a coherent response out of me. His patience must be wide if that's the case because my mouth remains sealed and closed.

He eventually breaks the silence that I keep bringing back. "I think I may have set a wrong impression on you which I assure you doesn't reflect who I am as a person at all. I'm actually a psychotherapist, my responsibility and job demands and calls for making people feel the most comfortable and at ease as they can be despite how difficult doing that is." I nod as he insists on being no one to feel any sense of discomfort or distrust towards. Him ensuring his congeniality with me only lessens my discomfort to a minimum. "Is anyone in this house even aware that this party is intended for the celebrating your birthday, not just another hangout or opportunity to flood their poor systems with wine?" His eyes shifts to behind me where two men drunkenly laughing their heads off, making him snicker as his point is coincidentally proven.

"I guess not." I say still keeping my words to a minimum. But I'm glad I'm not alone in seeing oddity of this whole situation.

"Come here." He motions me towards his direction indicating that I should follow. Knowing me, following a stranger is the last thing I'd ever think of doing but despite that, I find myself catching up to his accelerating pace until we wind up in another big room. How many freaking large rooms are there here? He directs me to where an extended table is situated against the wall and further proceeds to elevate me so I'd stand above the table. I feel reluctant to put myself in this position but I do so anyway, understanding what his intentions are. 

Everyone immediately pauses what they're doing and diverts all their attention to me. I could envision my social anxiety pointing fingers and laughing at me, reemerging in my state of conscience, taunting the mind of their most vulnerable victim that is me. It's powerful enough to drop my heart to my stomach and force my fingers to shake. I feel uncomfortable, not knowing where to put my arms and hands. Do I cross them? Place them at the side of my hips? I fold them in the front, my head facing anywhere but the crowd in front of me. I ultimately look down at my shoes. My feet always ends up being what I fix my eyes on during awkward situations like this one. Why did I agree to standing up here knowing that I'll feel all victimized. Considering my lack of interaction with people other than two parents and a canine, I should be excited and glad to be around more people, but that just isn't the case for me. A transition from an isolated area to a luxurious mansion is just maybe too much for me to penetrate and adapt to. 

I spot mother and Candace, also diverting their undivided attention to me. Their expressions conveying very different things to me that I don't quite understand. Mother's eyes keeps shifting from where the strange man,mother's longtime best friend, is standing to me as if she's taken aback with the knowledge of us encountering each other. On the other hand, Candace appears more focused, almost too focused. Her eyes have yet to move. They're fixated onto one place and that'd be me, and no where else. Its like nothing else exists but me, not even a slight of movement made. Frankly, I don't know how to go about both of these expressions being aimed at me.

"The beautiful girl up here is the reason why this party is happening in the first place. Am I right, Candace?"

Candace slowly nods, the first movement shes made and the strange man resumes. "I think if we're going to be invited to a birthday party we should at least know who the party is for..." Minutes passes, and people are clapping, cheering and tapping wine glasses...for me? I eventually see two boys and two girls who looks to be just about my age at the back corner conversing. I attempt to walk towards them and talk to them. Something I'll never thought in a million years I would put effort into trying but something glues me down to  my track. I've never actually had friends my age to talk to so either my inexperience of socializing with people my age would make this whole thing a failure or an unexpected accomplishment.