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Prescott tore himself loose from all his parents’ expectations of him. I couldn’t applaud the man more for following his dreams. Sebastian and I are the same when it comes to our occupation. We've been walking the path our parents decided for us since our birth. But unlike Prescott, I love it.
I love the quick lifestyle. The tedious hours in the office, aiming for higher grounds. It’s hard and demanding, but satisfying when it works out. Thankfully, I don’t have to combine my career with a family at home, something that would be impossible. Another reason why my parents stopped loving each other was because Dad had no time for anything but work.
Family was second best. Always.
“Terrible,” Sebastian answers, staring at his wife while shaking his head. Both didn’t want to get married, but ended up tying the knot anyway because of reasons unknown to the general public and their friends. The only ones who know are the couple, and Ada, Moreen’s sister.
“How’s she doing?” Prescott asks, this time referring to Moreen, and Sebastian is quick to respond.
“An ice queen. She works until late and then comes home ready to complain about everything I do while raising her voice. The neighbours can probably discuss our issues in-depth as well. Then she runs to the swimming pool to blow off steam, without solving any of our issues. It’s amazing.”
This is the part that always makes me wince. Livia, their daughter, might be suffering already from the way her parents treat each other. She might be wishing for them to make up and to just love each other. But even when Moreen has promised time and time again that Livia has never seen them fight, it doesn’t mean that she doesn’t feel what is going on.
Children do. They feel when balance is off, when behaviour doesn’t fit and when there’s clearly pain in the eyes of both parents. They suffer along with the people they love most.
I certainly did.
“Fun,” Prescott mutters. “And how are you behaving? I bet it’s not just Moreen.”
“I’m my peachy self, Pres,” Sebastian answers dryly.
“Heard you had a thing with the neighbour,” I add to the conversation. Sebastian isn’t a saint either. But this time, his face does take on another emotion than indifference. He looks almost confused with his brows scrunched close together and his lips pressed tight.
“Who said that?” Sebastian asks.
“The neighbour,” I answer.
“Are you sure it wasn’t you?” Sebastian questions.
“Oh shit. You’re right. It might have been me,” I joke, and Prescott’s loud laugh vibrates around us. But it definitely wasn’t me she was talking about this time. I remember faces and names. I have the memory of an elephant, and I know, without a doubt, that I’ve never had a thing for Sebastian’s neighbour.
So, it’s my friend who’s lying while he sips from his second glass with his eyes glued on Moreen. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had an affair with some woman. There is no love between this destructive couple, so I’m pretty sure they’re not sharing the same bed.
I push my chair back before I stand up and button my jacket.
“Where are you going?” Sebastian mutters, already too deep in the blissfulness of alcohol.
“The women.” I need a change of company because Sebastian will turn into the cruel one if he keeps drinking his sorrows away while staring at the same person the entire night.
I turn around, but my wrist is grabbed. My eyes drop on the hand holding it.
“Don’t fucking tell her about the neighbour.”
“I thought it wasn’t true,” I press, still not believing his lie. If Sebastian wants to cheat, he should file for divorce. That way, it would set him free as well as Moreen, but most importantly, Livia.
I love my best friend, but it’s not because of his choice in relationships or his judgement calls.
“It’s not,” he snaps, “but she’ll create a narrative anyway, and I’ll have to deal with an even more bitter Moreen.”
“Fine,” I concede. I’m not really in the mood to start another war. I was hoping that tonight was a way to party and hang out. It has been ages since I’ve found the time to drink and laugh, instead of talking business for hours on end to try to save my company.
But this evening is the opposite of the fun it promised the minute the invitation was pushed into my hands.
Sebastian finally drops my hand, and I slowly snatch my glass from the table before I make my way to Jocelyn and Moreen. The shuffling of a chair makes me look back at the table as Prescott walks toward me.
“Fucking pathetic,” he mumbles, referring to Sebastian.
“Yeah.” And, once again, it reminds me that I don’t want a marriage like theirs or even one to begin with. It ruined their lives, and I’m not signing up for that deal. No fucking way.
