We cut the cake, take tons of pictures. My parents manage to sneak into a few. I clench my jaw as they pose for a picture with Joshua. He is all smiles as he stands in their middle, hands around their shoulders.
A wave of anger sweeps over me. I want to march there and slap the smile off his face. He keeps acting like they are the best parents a child can wish for. They ruined us. I turn away while their photography session is still ongoing so I won’t be forced into the picture. Where’s my wife? We are not done talking.
Maybe we are.
El is with T. They might be discussing business but she’s staring hard at him and her brows are furrowed in concentration. She nods at something he says, barks out a laugh and punches him slightly on his arm. We fuck and she returns to her buddy, is that it? Am I a fuck buddy? Or, fuck husband?
Changing direction to an empty tent, I grab a saucer with a slice of moist cake to eat away the jealousy gnawing my insides. Everyone is in pairs. The twins are with their friends playing a game at the centre. A music game. They have to dance around chairs one number less than them, once the music stops, whoever is standing is out of the game. I drop the saucer on a seat and clasp my hands on my knees.
It’s fun to watch them at first. They serve as a cover for me to steal glances at my talkative wife. I’ll pick the uncomfortable moment with Mia over watching El and that man. I thread my fingers into my hair and let out another sigh. Joshua slides into the seat and begins munching on the cake without my permission.
“This is good,” he says with a mouthful of cake. He nudges my shoulder with his elbow, I drag my seat away from him. I am not up for some of the positivity he might sprinkle my way. “Why are you alone?”
“Because I can,” I answer and my gaze darts in El’s direction. They are still talking. What can she possibly be saying to that guy? We have kids together and we haven’t spoken that much this evening.
“It’s most likely business,” Joshua says.
I yank my shirt. It is indeed my shirt. The logo of a man riding a horse on the pocket gives it away.
“Right.”
If it’s business, why can’t she do it later? I grab the saucer from Joshua and finish the rest of the cake.
The girls have stopped playing and are returning the seats. I don’t know who won but none of them seems sad about losing. “How’s Brianna? I’ve missed her.” He sucks in air through his teeth. “Hello.”
Aside from the twins, he’s the only one who cares. Sophia tries, El too but they are not as consistent. I set the saucer on the table. El and T change location. I follow their movement from my peripheral view but they are soon out of sight. It will be good to kidnap T. Strip him and have him do the walk of shame.
Bored out of my mind, I find another subject of interest and my frown deepens when I spot my parents with El’s mum. They are trying so hard to fix things and I am trying harder to make it difficult for them.
The DJ changes the song but the girls are no longer interested in being downstairs so they escape to the mansion. Parents troop to the dancefloor, mine included. Mother’s laughter as Father spins her around sends a blunt dagger through my heart. They might not be the best parents to their kids but they are the best lovers. We never heard them yell at each other. If they fought, they did well at hiding it from us.
“When are they leaving?” I ask Joshua. They shouldn’t be happy at my girls’ parties when I am not.
“At the end of the party, I guess,” he answers, “you have to let go.” He crosses his arm on his chest and his biceps bulge. “Mostly for your sake.” The sky rumbles again, some of the dancing guests giggle. “Please.”
I flex my hands. El glides to the dancefloor with the twins. She scans the tents, our eyes meet briefly and I look down at my hands clenched on my knees. There is so much inside me that I need to unpack. A lot.
Joshua’s knee brushes mine. “I’ll try,” I tell him. His palm descends on my shoulder in a pat, I laugh a little and shrug his arm off. “About that dating show...” He stiffens and forces out a laugh. I keep my gaze on the dancefloor. “Did you sign up?” I need to know what channel to forbid the girls from watching should their uncle show up on TV kissing a female. When he doesn’t answer, I add, “It’s cool if you did.”
“Doesn’t it make me desperate?” I relax in the chair. “Going as far as getting on TV to find love.” His tone is so sad, I slip on my big brother’s shoes and squeeze his knee. “Mother thinks it’s an awful idea.”
“Fuck what Mother thinks.” He chuckles and some of the tension leaves his body. She doesn’t get to play the parent this late in our lives. Joshua’s gaze lingers on our parents, they are dancing to a slow song. So content. Her face is buried in Father’s chest and his arm is locked around her waist. They seem happy. I suck in a noisy breath. I don’t want those two to be happy. “People have found love in weirder places.”
“True.” He shoots to his feet. “I’m going to dance. Wanna come?”
I shake my head. “I’ll stay here a little longer.”
He grunts. “I’ll ask the DJ to play you lonely by Akon.” I show him my middle finger. “Lonely. You are so lonely...”
The idiot runs off singing the lyrics to that song. I am not lonely, I am just enjoying the solitude. Undoing the first button of my shirt, I stretch out my legs and try to relax. The chill air caresses my skin, I open my eyes at the clack of heels that floats to my ears. Annika, El’s mother, takes over the seat Joshua vacated.
“Brandon,” she starts without pleasantries, “what’s your plan for my daughter?” Excuse me? I arch a brow. Annika levels me a glare that dries up the replies I should have come up with. The twins, T and El are dancing in a small circle. It’s awkward but they look happy. Everybody is happy. “Look at that man.”
Her finger stretches in T’s direction. He is dancing with the girls but at intervals, he glances at El. The one time El catches him staring, she offers him a smile and spins Bren in a circle. Goodness. She won’t know a crush if it hits her square in the face. Everyone can see how smitten that fucker is. Everyone but her.
“Terrence likes Elna.” My spine stiffens. They are on a first name basis. She places her hand on top of the other, reminding me of the woman who slapped me back then. I broke my promise to her a long time ago. I have hurt El too many times to count. Her eyes remain on the dancing group. “I like him too.”
“What does that mean?” I hear myself ask.
“I like anyone who likes my daughter.” With a shrug, she stands and smoothens her thick hair curling at the temple. It’s short like Mother’s. Unlike Mother, her presence is comforting but I don’t want to talk to her right now. Not after this conversation. She clicks her tongue. “You don’t have all evening, Mr Stark.”
Annika storms off to meet a smiling T. My teeth ground in frustration as she sweeps him away from the trio. She sends me a pointed look as she and T find a dancing spot far from my girls, then it hits me. My lips curl in a grin. I should ask El to dance. I wipe my clammy hands on my trousers and take the first step towards the dancefloor. Annika is no longer watching me and it reduces the knots lodged in my joints.
Mother stops in front of me and I almost run into her. A curse leaves my lips at her abrupt appearance. She is not smiling. The DJ changes the song and she stretches a wrinkly hand. “Can I have this dance?”
Because the stubborn woman I love is subtly watching with our kids, my head dips in a bow. Mother’s smile is blinding. Like I handed her everything she ever wanted and my pulse quickens in pride. I take her bony arm and walk her to the dancefloor. People step back to create more space for us. I catch Father at the corner with a big smile aimed at us. He acknowledges me with a curt nod and his smile broadens.
I step on Mother’s foot twice when it’s time to spin her. Both times were accidents. She puts one hand on my chest.
“You have always been an awful dancer.”
Her tone is light-hearted. It is a joke but I still reply, “You have always been an awful mother.”
All the times she scolded us when we only needed her to be our mother rushes back to me. I drop my hand from her waist and shove it into my pocket. This is too hard. “Brandon.” Her voice is pleading, I massage my forehead and open my eyes. She smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “My fault. Bad joke.”
Mother hides her hands behind her but I notice the signs. The slight tremors in her arms. Her collarbone stretched against her skin. Her pale cheeks. She’s not fashionably thin as she used to be. She’s thin and frail like she has no control over her weight. Somehow, she manages to retain that air of superiority.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
On a soft sigh, she answers, “Yes.”
Bloody fucking liar. I am in front of her in seconds. My fingers comb through her hair. It is weird. Feels off to touch. Her hair is one of her best features, she always kept it curled and cropped. It suited the authoritative look she was always aiming for but it doesn’t feel natural. I am not touching her scalp.
“You are sick,” I state. Her thin lips press into a thinner smile. “Were you going to tell me?”
“No.”
None of us attempts to close the short distance. It’s the only thing keeping me sane. “Why not?”
She presses her hand to her nose. “We haven’t spoken in years.” Largely my fault. A storm of sadness gathers in her eyes and I look away. “I didn’t want you to think I was blackmailing you into talking to me.”
“It would have worked,” I mutter and we almost laugh. She leaves an inch of space between us. “So you are dying?” She shrugs. Just bloody rotates her shoulders like death is something to wish for. “Mother.” I push forward and wrap her in a hug. The first in forever. I don’t want her to die. “Thank you for coming.”