Mr. Boss Man

Chapter 3 ~ The party for the rich snobs

~ 3 weeks later ~

Since being discharged from the hospital, my mum spontaneously decides to take me to attend her boss' retirement party with her. As shocked as I was, it didn't stop me from being quite determined that I was going to stay at home and watch re-runs of friends and eat crap the whole night. This idea sounded much more appealing than going to some party where I'd have to put up with people who have sticks so far up their asses you can't tell where they begin and the stick ends.

She never usually drags me along to these things, but I guess that's changed ever since the accident. I think she feels partly responsible for what happened but she will never understand what's it's like to sit there and watch your dad die while there's literally nothing you can do about it. A part of me was stolen that night and I'm afraid that it's never coming back...

Radiohead is blasting from the speakers as I lie flat on my bed with my guitar lying lazily in my hands. There's something about music that's always drawn me in. A rare beauty that will live on forever. It's an escape from reality which everyone seems to need all so often these days.

The door is pushed open and mum stands with her arms crossed over her chest in determination. She's wearing her red chiffon dress, which I haven't seen on her since her 15th wedding anniversary a few years back.

"You look good mum."

"And you do not." she gestures to my baggy pants, large jumper, and fluffy bed socks.

"I'm not leaving you here alone for the whole night. We've been through this Andrea, so hurry up and get dressed. Now."

She shuts the door leaving me to wallow in my self pity until I finally give in and walk to my closet. This whole day has been quite...unusual.

Mums been in the kitchen preparing a dessert for the dinner party for the past couple hours. If you ask me the whole gesture was entirely unnecessary considering he was retiring a very wealthy man and could afford his own bloody dessert. It's like she's trying to impress someone. Very much so.

But I guess with mum being who she is, a kind and considerate person, she thought it was completely necessary and a good send off into retirement. Her words, not mine.

Trying to persuade a women like Maryam Blythe was like trying to swim through thick mud.

Impossible and useless.

I grin wickedly as I pull out my long creme button up coat and pull it around my shoulders, leaving my homeless-style clothing underneath, and button it up. I pull off my socks and slip on my black flats before trotting downstairs.

Mum is placing the dessert on a nice platter, and applying the finishing touches by adding a few more berries here and there. I have to admit it does look delicious.

"Ready to go?" She looks up at me with a small, almost excited, smile.

My long, crème, button up coat hides most of the clothes so she doesn't say anything about my choice of clothing. Yet.

"Yep." I smile sweetly.

Ever so slowly she walks, if you could even call it that, down the hallway trying not to trip and ruin the cake as if the floor boards were bathed in some imaginary oil.

Rolling my eyes I sigh and shut the door behind us.

It's a cold, quiet night and even under the heavy weight of my coat I shiver. Hurrying to the car I open the door and sit in the soft seat, begging for some warmth to heat my frozen fingers.

Mum hands me the dessert while she backs out the old Honda civic from the drive and I'm highly aware the whole time that if she so much as even brakes too quickly, the cake will end up on the floor in a splattering, disastrous mess. So I make sure it survives the journey unscathed.