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10
Siobhan
The air around me is sour. I want to breathe but I can't. My legs are heavy as cement, and the rest of my body is just stuck. I'm trapped here. Trapped at this table. Trapped in this world. Trapped like an animal in a cage.
Every wall is closing in on me, squeezing me from every direction. I can't escape.
I want to laugh at Mark's jokes and his stories. I want to ask him more, learn about his past, get a view of life through someone else's lens.
But I can't. Not here. Not around these people.
If I even show a shred of interest, it will reflect so poorly on my parents, and this entire event. These people will mock my mother, they'll never let her live it down. They might not even allow her in their social circle again. I can't do that to her.
I don't know what Mark's thinking. And in the same breath, I'm grateful for him just being himself. It draws me to him even more, with more and more of my heart opening to him.
The edge he bears is such a turn on. I can't ignore the pull I feel. But he needs to realize that he's not at home. To make a good impression here, he has to play by the rules, even if they're terrible and wrong.
Looking around the room, I see my parents mingling, but no Mark. He's been gone for a few minutes now.
I should go find him.
I feel awful about how these people are treating him, but he needs to know he can't take it personally.
“Excuse me,” I say, forcing a smile and leaving the table.
Searching the venue, he's not in the room anywhere. Standing outside the restroom door, I wait until I think it's clear, pushing the door open slightly and calling his name. He doesn't answer back.
Where the hell did he go?
My heart pounds hard as I wonder if he left altogether. Maybe he decided to just go home, back to the things and people he knows. Back to a place that isn't going to judge him like they are here.
Where he's a hero for his talent with engines, and not looked down on because he doesn't have disposable money. It would be hard to hold it against him if he bolted after the way he's being treated.
Holding up my dress as I walk, I check the front foyer and the lounge. Finally, I spot him sitting on a bench in the garden. His hands are folded together, and his head is down.
He looks deep in thought. His brows are furrowed and his lips are taut as he just stares blankly into the water of the fountain.
Pushing the door open, he jerks his head up. “Hey,” I say. “I thought you might have left.”
“No, I wouldn't just leave without telling you.”
Taking a seat next to him, I grip the edge of the stone bench, peering into the water with him. “That's good.”
“Look,” he says, exhaling a somber breath, “I'm sorry for that. I wasn't trying to embarrass you or anything. It's just—” He cuts himself off, and groans softly. “It's just frustrating, is all.”
“You're not embarrassing me. I don't want you to think that. I get it though, I do. This isn't what you're used to. But you have to understand there's a code here, an unspoken set of expectations that I should have been clearer about.”
Snapping his head up, he turns to face me. “I don't get it, Sia. You are nothing like these people. Is this what you really want to become? Like the people in there?” Throwing his arm out, he points to the building. “Having to hide who you truly are in order to fit in to the box they created for you?”
“It's not that simple, Mark. I don't have a choice here.” My voice is weak, powerless. Even I don't believe me.
“Bullshit,” he snaps. “I see you. I see who you really are inside, and it's not one of them. You want to spend the rest of your life bowing to their expectations and fake friendships? These people don't care about you. You deserve to be happy and that's not what I see here. Here you're a corpse. But I’ve seen you for who you truly are. Vibrant, beautiful, full of life. Your art is enough to tell me you’re different. Right now though, you're nothing but a shell. It's your body, sure, but you're hiding inside.”
He strikes a nerve. My insides twist up, my blood starts to bubble, turning my cheeks red with anger. He doesn't understand, and he has no right to judge me for it.
“A corpse? A shell? You think I like this? You think I like having to shut down just to get by? What do you think I should do then?” My voice shakes, raising and lowering in volume. “I can't change the rules, Mark, and you don't get to just pretend they don't exist because you don't like them. The people in there might not be your type of people, but they all do incredible things. They save lives, they change lives, and they give more than you will ever realize. Having decent behavior can make a big difference, it's not hard to try it out.”
His eyes narrow, pupils turning to pinpricks. “Is that what you think? I'm just a country idiot? You think I'm stupid just like your parents do? Like I can't see what these people think of me?” Jumping to his feet, he hovers over me, lowering his face to mine. “What makes any of these people better than me?”
