I'm bad at names, that's something I've always known about myself. But after tonight it has been confirmed that I am really, really bad at names. Rhodes has been introducing me to people for the last two hours, and it's shocking how much I've forgotten. I hear their name, commit their face to my memory, shake their hand, and make polite conversation before we move on to the next cluster of faces and names. By the time we reach the next group, I've forgotten the previous group completely. Was that Maria or Miranda? David or Daniel? How does Rhodes do this every day?
I'm completely overwhelmed, but Rhodes is completely in his element. Engaging in polite small talk, cracking a joke here and there, asking about how people's kids or significant others are doing. He moves through the room with such glory and elegance, leaving people smiling and lifting their glasses to him as he excuses us. This is his domain, his natural environment; I could not be more of a fish out of water.
"On average, how many of these sorts of events would you attend every year?" I ask Rhodes out of the blue, lifting the champagne glass to my lips and taking a small drink. Having just left another cluster of faces, Rhodes has taken me to the bar to get himself another scotch. He tilts his head to the side in contemplation, trying to crunch the numbers. I know I've only been to two of these sorts of fancy dinners with him, but there must be more of them. Maybe he's been to some without me, or with someone else. Yikes, even saying that in my head makes me sad.
"The dinners? Maybe a dozen. I'd say around 30 charity events. I do turn down a lot of events though, try and only go to the stuff that I feel is important. Why?" He asks, leaning his right side against the bar, giving me his full attention now that the bartender is fixing him his drink. I shrug, taking another sip of my wine.
"Just want to know what I'm getting myself into," I give him a slight smile.
"You're not having fun?" He asks, the corners of his cheeks turned upwards ever so slightly.
"No, no, it's not that, I just feel like I have absolutely nothing to add to any of it. The conversations are all way too complicated, too many names and faces. How does your brain not melt every time you go to this sort of thing?" I ask him quietly. The bartender places his drink on a black napkin in front of him. Why give him a napkin? He's just going to pick up the drink and leave the napkin behind, thus giving the very busy bartender another thing to clean before serving someone else.
"It's a skill that I've mastered over the years. My first few were very terrifying, I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. Don't worry, it won't always feel so daunting," his words soothe me instantly, something I'm very happy for him to be making a habit of. I nod my head and release the breath I didn't know I was holding. My first big gala-like dinner thing went very terribly, so this is already better than the last time. The words that Rhodes said to me that night still haunt me.