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“You need to stay off the liquor for the rest of the night! You’re looking like a slob! You aren’t even dressed properly! Do you want to embarrass us?”
She pats my cheek and then sits back in her chair and smiles as my father makes a toast.
I decide that I’ll wait until the end of the meal, which will undoubtedly be five courses long excluding dessert, to have another drink.
Despite not caring all that much about me, my parents have always expected me to make something of myself, if only to ensure that our family’s name remains above reproach. I have dabbled in trade and have started numerous businesses at one point or another in my life.
However, nothing has ever really stuck.
And I know that this has been a great source of disappointment for my parents. My father in particular, who has always made a success of everything he has touched.
Maybe if they had paid more attention to me as a child, I would have made a success of myself.
Like they did with Ocuri.
My brother sits on the other side of my father. And he doesn’t look like a slob. Instead, he looks perfectly put together – my mother probably picked out the suit he is wearing and had it pressed and everything.
Oh, well. Did you expect anything less?
I suppose I haven’t made much of myself in my 26 years on Protheka because my brother has already done it all.
He’s done it all, and he’s done it all better than I ever could.
I think I stopped attempting things when I realized that I would never receive the same kind of praise that my brother did and still does.
And there goes my appetite.
I push my food around on the plate, lift my fork to my lips occasionally, and smile warmly at my parents every few minutes.
I laugh loudly at my brother’s jokes and restrain myself from rolling my eyes.
I don’t touch one drop of alcohol for all five courses.
I’m practically fucking sober.
I have to keep from jumping out of my chair when I finish dessert.
I kiss my mother hurriedly and announce that I’m feeling terribly ill to everyone in the hall.
And then I leave as quickly as possible.
But not quickly enough.
“Boy! Boy! Where do you think you’re going?” My father’s voice is thundering once we’re out of earshot of the dining room.
I don’t suppress the heavy sigh of annoyance that escapes me, and I turn around to face him.
This was inevitable. What did you expect?
“How dare you abandon me and your mother – your mother! On our special night! Do you try to disappoint us on purpose, or is it that you just can’t help yourself?”
I don’t say anything because it is futile.
My father smirks at me with an expression of cold disgust on his face.
“You cannot even defend yourself! You can’t even give me a reason!”
“Why should I?” My voice is dull.
