Make Waves With Me (TinCan)

A Sting in the Tail

Forty-two minutes in and Tin was already suffocating. Medthanan special occasions were enough to make even him squirm. He was dressed in a black tuxedo, shirt buttoned all the way to the top and he wanted nothing more than to unloop the tie from around his neck and hang himself off the balcony if it meant he would get to escape this hell. It was his mother's birthday and that meant sitting through this annual torture. She hadn't gone tame this year either. They had hired out the whole hotel which included ballroom, restaurant, spa and pool whilst all one hundred and twenty four of the five-star bedrooms had been reserved out to them and their guests.

Despite having space in abundance, Tin felt sick. His palms were sweating and he was struggling to maintain his icy facade as he felt the critical, questioning stares of the guests lingering over him, wondering if he really was the disappointment his family knew him to be. He never let them trap him like this. He usually always said no. This time though, when his mother had burst into his room to confirm his attendance, the look in her eyes when he had tried to back out had made him feel guilty. He could feel her wondering where she had gone wrong, why one of her son's was everything she had ever wanted whilst the other was so... ungrateful. He had given in because her condemning eyes had been too much to bear and somewhere deep down inside, he hated disappointing her. She was his mother. He looked like her.

As he silently weaved through the guests seated around the ballroom dance floor and headed to the bar he realised he didn't look much like her tonight. He took a long glug of one of the complimentary champagne flutes that were meticulously lined up on the bartop, brow furrowing at the taste but enjoying the burning sensation that travelled down to his chest as he watched her. She was wearing a floor-length yellow dress, decorated with gold jewellery and a radiant smile as she danced centre stage with her husband. Tin couldn't remember ever looking that happy. He'd never felt so carefree. He saw her looking over his father's shoulder to observe his brother, Tul, who was also dancing, his arms wrapped around his wife's waist whilst their young son imitated their moves at his ankles. It was then that her eyes flicked to him, and even across the distance between them Tin could see her expression change once her stare focused on her other son, brooding in the corner. Tin tried to offer her a small smile as he pulled at his shirt collar, desperate to get some oxygen into his suddenly starved lungs. She extended a hand out towards him, beckoning for him to join them.

Tin thought about it, he really did, but before he'd had a chance to make up his mind, he saw his father realise who his wife had outstretched her arm for. His eyes which had been full of adoration and warmth for his wife turned cold and he took her suspended arm and used it to twirl her around on the spot. Tin glared at the back of his mother which was now facing him, before meeting his father's piercing stare. Don't ruin this for us. His father's eyes told him everything he needed to know. This was how it had been for as long as he could remember. The us and then Tin. There were hundreds of people in the hotel, yet Tin was alone, achingly so. His father would always make sure he never forgot that. That was his punishment.

Tin drew his eyes away from the 'us' that were supposed to be his family, finished his glass and reached over the bar to grab a bottle for good measure before making his way out of the ballroom. He wandered through the corridors, too familiar with such surroundings that he didn't pay attention to how grandiose they were anymore. He kept his eyes on the plush purple carpet as he pushed past people until he eventually stumbled across the exit.

"Is everything okay Mr Medthanan sir?" one of the guards at the front entrance queried.

"I'm fine, if anyone asks can you just tell them I'm getting some air and will be back shortly?" Tin replied, knowing he had no intention whatsoever of coming back anytime soon.

"Of course, sir." The guard nodded. Tin recognised his face but had no recollection of his name. In that one fleeting moment, Tin felt bad for not knowing. He didn't bother asking anymore. His life had become just this, fleeting faces at different occasions, faces that were nameless, meaningless. He knew he couldn't trust anyone, so he'd just stopped trying to. He walked away from the guard, in no specific direction looking for the comfort he only seemed to find when he was alone.