I place a soft hand on Chris when I feel his fists clench. There’s no use in starting a fight we won’t ever win.
My chest is heavy with sadness though, that nickname is important to both of us. It’s a constant reminder of how important I am to him, it holds too much weight to be mocked by my father. I have a lot of regrets in life, that day being the main one. I never wanted to hurt him, I never wanted him to see me like that. It wasn’t supposed to be him that found me, no one was supposed to find me until it was too late.
I feel bad for Sam, he shouldn’t have to sit here awkwardly while we make passive aggressive comments to one another. He’s one of the few people who know about that day, he’s been my brother's best friend for years, he’s our family… but being family isn't the same as being blood.
My parents shift so they can exit first, and I follow behind them, walking next to my father, watching as my mother straightens her back and holds herself high. I link my arms with his before walking down the carpet and up the stairs.
Chris and Sam always wait a little longer so I don’t get caught in their pictures, they both know why I separate myself from them and they respect it.
It’s too loud in here, fake laughs bounce off the walls while everyone mingles, pretending to care about people’s children or jobs. Besides the fact that I have to spend the night with my parents, I always hated the fakeness that surrounds these events.
No one actually cares how your kids soccer team is doing, or what your latest investment is, all they want is money –or a connection to help them later on. These stupid ‘fundraisers’ are an excuse to make friends with your enemies. To try and suck someone into a business deal or to weasel your way into a high power position in a company.
My parents wander off to god knows where, probably grabbing the first of many glasses of champagne of the night, while I wait for my brother to catch up. Chris links arms with mine and whisks me away to a quieter area of the museum, somewhere the three of us can hide away from prying eyes and judgemental glares.
Sam steals a bottle of champagne off a table and giggles to himself as we run away from all the stupid, snotty, rich people.
We’ve always done this, sneaking off and getting drunk, exploring the venue and laughing with one another about whatever is going on in our lives at the moment, it’s the only thing that makes these events bearable.
* * *
“No, no, no. You’ve got it all wrong, you gotta make them jump through hoops for you when they fuck up” Sam slurs, taking another sip from the bottle.
I rip it out of his hands, annoyed that he’s not just listening. It’s all in the past, we’re good now. “No way, that’s not nice” I say, taking a swig.
“I agree with Sam on this one, you should have given them hell.” Chris lifts his head slightly off the floor to look at me, but I can’t take him seriously with how drunk he is.
“No. If I fucked up, you’d want people to forgive me” I challenge.
He frowns, “true, but you’re my baby sister. They’re just stupid boys.”
“All boys are stupid.” Sam points his finger at me as if he’s just made this insane revelation all by himself.
“You’re a boy.”
“Oh… right.”
We start giggling, and my favourite surgeon walks into the room. “I knew I’d find you all somewhere, drunk and giggling about god knows what.” He flashes a bright smile and takes a seat next to me, then grabs the bottle out of my hands and takes a drink, “how’ve ya been kiddo?”
“Oh you know, messy as ever.” Okay, time to stop drinking. No deep dark secret telling to your parents' friend.
He places a hand around my shoulder and pulls me into a side hug, so I rest my head on his shoulder and get comfy, “how’s the Presbyterian treating you?”
“Great! You should really come by soon, I could give you guys a super secret tour.”
“Sure, but maybe not when I’m drunk? I don’t think your bosses would like that” I slur, shaking my head.
That made me dizzy.
Craig smirks, “Iamthe boss, little miss.”
“Oh right.”
Alcohol can be a wonderful thing, but also the worst. For the past couple of hours I’ve been having the time of my life, laughing with my brother and his friend, drama and stress free. But the moment my father walks into the room, I feel sick to my stomach.
A child should never be scared of their parents, they should never have to close their eyes and hope for the best when the person who’s supposed toprotectthem, comes around. I find myself doing that a lot when he’s near me.
“Sothisis where you’ve been hiding? You’ve been in here with your brother gettingdrunkwhen you know it’s important we’re all out there together?” His voice is so cold, so hateful, so spiteful. “I can’t believe you would influence your brother like this.”
