I simply nod in response, hearing my date thank him for his help before following me into the Imperial Hall, where a waiter welcomes us at the door with a tray laden with champagne flutes. I take one and finish the whole thing in one gulp as my date politely declines. We hover in the doorway for a moment, as I let my eyes roam the room in search of the source of all my pain while he watches as my old life starts to swallow my current life.
“You never told me it was this kind of event. Or that it would be taking place in the fanciest hotel in the city.”
“Would you have come if I did?” I ask, unfounded accusation in my tone. “If you knew what this was about, would you have accepted anyway?”
“Yes,” he says, leaving me floored. “I’d have liked to know so I could be prepared. But it wouldn’t have made a difference.”
“It’s a fundraiser.”
“Fundraiser. For what?”
“Cancer.”
He frowns.
“Research for… St. Vincent Hospital.”
“And what exactly are we doing at a fundraiser for Cancer research?”
I fiddle with the knot of my tie for no apparent reason and then, almost choking on my saliva, I say: “My parents…”
“Frederick!” My mother’s voice interrupts my explanation. “We weren’t expecting you.”
“Ma,” I say through gritted teeth as she leans over to plant a kiss on my cheek. “It was a last-minute decision.”
“They always are.” My father joins us. “It would’ve been nice to receive an RSVP. Now we’ll have to rearrange the seating.”
“Don’t be silly, Brendan,” my mother says. “I organised this evening, so I can invite whoever I want, however and wherever I want.”
I close my eyes for a second, hoping to materialise somewhere else – even hell. Anywhere would be better than this.
“But you’re not alone.” My mother’s voice shifts up a tone, and their eyes fall onto my date, who has been standing in silence for the entirety of our conversation.
“Good evening, Mrs. O’Shea. It’s lovely to meet you.”
My mother holds out her hand. He takes it, bending slightly as if to kiss it.
“And Dr. O’Shea, it’s an honour to be here tonight, and to finally meet you in person.”
My father swells up with pride and reaches out to shake Sean’s hand tightly.
“Thank you both for the invitation.”
“I don’t think I caught your name,” my father says.
“Oh, of course. How silly of me. It’s Sean, Sean Quinn.”
“And what do you, Mr. Quinn?”
“Honey…” my mother carefully tries to extract Sean from my father’s talons.
“What do I do? Well, I’m currently attending this event with your son.”
I could burst into laughter if I weren’t so concentrated on breathing – because in the exact moment that my date politely puts my pompous father in his place, someone approaches us. Someone holding someone else’s hand – a someone who isn’t me.
“Frederick.” My name drips down my back as if his hands were on my skin. “We weren’t expecting to see you here.”
I wish I could inhale and say something intelligent, but I don’t think I can – not now that he’s here with someone else. Not now that he’s moved on, leaving me behind, with no map, no compass, no reason to even attempt to find the right path.
