“Then why are you here?”
I ask because it all seems so absurd: him being here, the way he introduced himself to my family, the way he came to my rescue. He grabs another glass of champagne and turns to look out at the ballroom. He doesn’t finish the whole drink in one go this time, but sips it calmly.
“I’m here to play my part. Nothing more, nothing less.”
His answer shouldn’t annoy me as much as it does. It shouldn’t make me want to ball up my fists again, or find that my breathing is heavy. It definitely shouldn’t create this unexpected sense of disappointment which I feel inside me, mixing with the slight confusion of the whiskey I’ve just inhaled.
“Is that not what we all do?” he asks then, turning to me. “Aren’t we all just showing the nicest versions of ourselves?”
“I guess so,” I respond. “Although I think that, sometimes, we actually show others the worst version of ourselves.”
And that’s the saddest thing of all.
6Sean
After downing a couple of drinks, Eric seems ready to head over to the top table.
I was not expecting an event like this. I wasn’t expecting Eric to be part of this family. I knew the surname, but I never put two and two together. How could I have? Jake hadn’t mentioned anything – unless he has no idea, either. But I doubt it. They’re best friends, and it can’t be easy to keep a family like this secret.
Everyone in town knows Dr. O’Shea. I think everyone in the country actually knows him – he’s one of the most highly regarded surgical oncologists around, and has saved hundreds of patients who were told they had no chance of survival. Now he concentrates mostly on research, alongside his wife, one of the primary investors in St. Vincent Hospital.
Eric says hello to some people we pass on our way to our table. He’s polite, elusive but civil, and introduces me to everyone without ever mentioning my role in his life or the reason I’m here. It seems an excellent tactic; the less fake gossip going around tonight, the easier it’ll be to get out of this whole situation when it’s over.
We sit at the table, but no one else is here yet. Eric stops a waiter, grabbing two more glasses from his tray. I’m about to thank him for thinking of me for the first time tonight, when his father’s right-hand man sits down to his right.
“This is a delightful surprise,” he says to him, as Eric’s expression hardens. “I really didn’t expect to see you.”
“They’re my family.”
“Of course, I didn’t mean…” He laughs nervously. “I’ve just got back from Boston. I’m basically back and forth every other month, now.”
Eric finishes his drink, not responding.
“We haven’t seen each other for a while. I thought you might be avoiding me… But you look well.”
Colm leans in, as if he wants to whisper something into his ear, but Eric turns his head away, towards me, his eyes narrowed. This stops Colm from continuing. He straightens his tie, clearly uncomfortable, then gets up, leaving the table slowly.
I don’t like him. Colm, I mean. I don’t like the way he makes me feel, the way the hairs of my arms stand on end when he gets close to Eric, and the way Eric reacts to his presence. I still haven’t worked out whether it’s because it’s painful or whether it’s because he doesn’t want him there, but I know that it’s certainly not positive. Just like this entire event, the atmosphere in this room. Despite the good cause, I can feel a toxicity coursing through the ballroom, wrapping me up and stopping me from being able to really breathe.
I clear my throat and ask, because I want to know. “I’m here because of him, aren’t I?”
“I don’t owe you an explanation.”
“No, you don’t. Not if you don’t want to.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Perfect.”
“Then why did you ask?”
“Because I thought you might want to talk… Maybe vent a little.”
“You and I aren’t friends.”
“Absolutely not. But sometimes it’s good to let it out with a stranger.”
“I don’t want to do that, either.”
