ABBY
Stepping through the front doors of The Landmark is like taking a step back in time. The large reception area’s been redecorated, but the outstanding river views to the right remain precisely as I remember: the idyllic backdrop for the Pinterest-perfect wedding album with my not-so-perfect groom.
I swallow the golf ball forming in my dry throat and breeze past the informal dining area through to the back bar to begin decorating for the evening’s event. It’s paramount to my mental health that I do this now, that I face this place before tonight. I have to let go of any emotional attachment in private, not in full view of every extended relation I have.
Alicia accompanies me, silently glancing around. Her quiet thoughts mirror my own, contemplating the previously agonised over details of a wedding that didn’t materialise. We brought a bag filled with pearlescent heart bunting to hang, lanterns with LED candles to add romance and hundreds of photos of Mam and Dad at various weddings and other family functions from the past thirty years.
We set to work carefully in the designated area that the manager pointed out to us. He’s the same man that made our booking almost five years earlier. If he recognises me as the bride who got dumped the night before her wedding, he’s polite enough not to mention it. Luminous chair covers now brighten up the previously dark room. The decor isn’t to my taste, but it’s a relief that it’s at least different to how I pictured it.
Armed with a mountain of Blu Tack, we hang the various photos, pausing to smile or reminisce as the memories resurface. There are photos from the eighties – Mam sported a dreadful tight curly perm and Dad with some sort of mullet and a cigarette hanging from his lips. He’d stopped smoking the day Mam announced she was pregnant with Alicia, apparently. I tried not to take it personally that he hadn’t done that on my behalf. By all accounts, I was ‘a pleasant surprise’. I still can’t believe that two people who have unprotected sex could still be surprised at a resulting baby, but hey ho.
Another image captured the four of us on holiday in Spain. I look about ten and Alicia looks six or seven. It was our first time abroad. The bubbling excitement we’d experienced rushes back to me, even twenty-odd years later.
The final photo I come across had been taken in Dublin last year. Mam and Dad arrived on the pretence of a trip to the theatre. They’d been checking up on me. I had literally just received word I’d landed the position on Ireland Today. It had been a wonderful opportunity to share my good news with them. Though that was the weekend it finally sank in that I was never moving home. No matter how many demons I put to bed this weekend, Dublin is my home now.
‘This is thirsty work,’ Alicia announces after a victorious battle with the final row of bunting. We survey our handiwork. It looks good. Mam’ll pretend that she hates the fuss, of course. Though we all know she loves it really.
‘I’m buying. What do you want?’ I pull out two bar stools nearby and we perch companionably next to each other.
‘I’ll have a Bulmers. Better not start on the wine too early. Can you imagine Mam’s face if we turn up shit faced to the party?’
‘Better yet, if we just sit here like this, drinking until everyone else arrives.’ I gesture down to my ripped skinny jeans and sweatshirt and snigger at the thought.
The barman fetches our drinks and disappears into the background again. Several tables are occupied with couples and families enjoying lunch. I’m glad to have braved it. All thoughts of Sean and that wedding scratched from my mind. It’s only a hotel, after all. It shouldn’t be personal. In my head, I’d built it up to be more significant than necessary. Mind you, it hadn’t been particularly lucky for me in the past. I only hope
Callum finds his father safe and well. I pray he makes it back again in time, not relishing the thought of everyone assuming Poor Abby has once again been stood up. The situation is wildly different, but I’d prefer to avoid anyone’s pity, and prefer even more to show off Callum Connolly as my boyfriend.
‘Did you ever hear from him after that?’ Alicia interrupts my thoughts of Callum.
‘About an hour ago. Still no sign of him. I hope he’s ok. I hope they’re both ok.’ I take a sip of my gin and tonic.
‘Not Callum. I meant Sean.’
I hadn’t laid eyes on him since the day he forced his lips on mine, resulting in that embarrassing picture in the evening gossip column.
Once the dust settled, I hadn’t pursued the restraining order. Bar the occasional paranoia, I have nothing to file against. In the eyes of the law, Sean is a model citizen. And I know he would never physically harm me. His return into my life isn’t exactly a welcome one, but once I adjusted to the initial shock, his presence doesn’t bother me. Out of sight, out of mind.
‘You saw the photo?’ I shrug.
‘The entire world saw the photo. Then it disappeared without a trace,’ she reminds me with a small laugh. ‘My big sister, the celebrity, with not one, but two handsome men chasing her. It’s tough at the top.’ Alicia’s lips curl with a sliver of envy.
‘I’m sorry, Lesh.’ I use her childhood nickname for the first time in years.
‘Me too. I wish things could have been different. Not because I particularly wanted you to marry Sean, but because when you didn’t, you changed.’
Her remark stings, primarily because it’s true.
‘I couldn’t stick it here. I’m sorry.’ She’s right. I literally cut off everyone that witnessed my humiliation. It was the only way I could reinvent myself. I refused to be near anything or anyone that reminded me of who I was when I was with him. The girl that almost had it all.
And now I really do have it all. Surrounded and enveloped by Callum’s love, I expect the world, and my friends and family from before, to just jump back into line with me. Selfishly, it never occurred to me that they might have changed too. How it might have affected them when I shut them all out of my life. It was self-preservation, but that didn’t excuse my coldness. Realisation floods me, and I place my arms around my little sister again. This time, instead of flinching, she cries.
‘Don’t ever think of leaving me again,’ she warns, wrapping her arms around me and returning the hug.
‘Oh, Alicia, I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t realise until now.’ The words catch in my throat.
We break apart. ‘Come home more, sis. We all miss you.’
‘I will, I promise.’
