Literary Arts - The Engagement Party

Kristine Atterbury, Contributor

The uproar outside started while I was in the courtesy room provided by the hotel, sitting at the vanity table. My mother was sliding jewelled hairpins into the curls piled on top of my head, making sure they was held tightly in place. I was staring wordlessly at my reflection.

My cousins flitted around me, oohing and ahhing, but I couldn't recognise the person sitting in the strapless wine-coloured dress. For one thing, the hair carefully arranged on top of my head was not mine.

My hair was naturally short and permed, with brown tints caused by the sun. I always wore it tucked behind my ears or sometimes pinned into a tiny topknot but my mother had insisted that I needed to add a little more class to my appearance. Hence, the very expensive hair extensions.

She stood behind me, beaming. "Chantelle," she said in a breathless voice, "The Gleaner will be here, you know? Can't you just picture yourself on the social pages?"

"Standing next to Samuel Burnamthorpe!" Anya, one of my cousins, chimed in.

I stretched my lips into a wide smile and nodded.

"What's he like?" Anya asked dreamily.

I thought carefully before I spoke. "He's ... very polite. And he works hard."

My mother grasped my shoulders. Her eyes were sharp as they met mine in the vanity's reflection. "Your father is very proud of you. You're making all the right choices, dear."

She pressed her cheek against mine and her perfume smarted my nose, making my eyes water.

Anya was staring at me uncertainly. My eyes flicked away from hers.

That's when we heard it.

First a dull shout, then my father's voice booming through the yard, then more shouting. My heart sank and I stayed where I was, even as everyone else sprang towards the window. I heard my mother stifle a gasp as she looked out into the courtyard. I clasped my hands in my lap and stared at the mirror resolutely, even as I blinked back the sudden, hot rush of tears.

Tony was here.

I hadn't expected him to show up. Our relationship had ended abruptly, like the sudden, painful rip of a bandage. It had left a wound in me that I carried silently under the watchful eye of my parents.

Tony and I never stood a chance. We met in our final year of high school, after he was transferred from a boys' school in Manchester. There were rumours that he had almost been expelled from that school but no one knew why. The rumours got to our class days before Tony did, and no one ever gave him a chance to explain himself. He walked into the schoolyard in the middle of the morning announcement. He was tall-ish, with a broad chest and strong arms. His muscles and solemn face were in strange contrast to his eyes, which were soft and sad, framed by long, delicate eyelashes.

I had spent most of my high school years in timid silence, listening to my parents, working hard, and staying out of trouble. This is why they tolerated him for the first few months, just barely. Two years later, they began to get uncomfortable whenever I mentioned his name, and my mother wondered whether I wasn't getting too serious about one boy. By my second year in university, they had grown noticeably cold toward him. Tony couldn't help but notice. Whenever he dropped me off at my gate, he would get out and stare up the driveway, a touch of anxiety in his eyes.

"What if," he asked one day. "What if I want to take you far, far away from here? Would you come?"

I smiled, thinking he was being glib. Then I glanced up at the house, seeing my father's hulking shape standing at one of the upstairs windows.

"I have to go," I said. After that, he kept asking me the same question over and over again but I never really answered.

It all came to a screeching halt when my mother caught me inside my bedroom, clutching a pregnancy test, and reading the instructions with panic. It turned out to be just a false alarm but that was the final straw.

The shouting outside continued.

Suddenly, my mother was kneeling before me, her hands grasping mine painfully.

"Samuel and his parents are out there," she said, her face rigid with anger. "Go and fix this. Fix it now!"

I nodded mutely and stood up, my eyes sliding past the horrified looks on my cousins' faces.

When I got outside, my father and Tony stood facing each other. Tony's chest was heaving and his eyes were hot and bright. My father looked like he might hit him at any moment. Around them, a few scattered workers decorated the yard. I forced my feet to move forward. Tony's face changed when he saw me. He tried to step toward me but my father stepped in his way, very deliberately.

"Don't," I said, raising my hand towards him. "You can't be here."

"Why?" he demanded.

My voice was shaky but I crossed my arms firmly. "You need to leave. Please."

He glanced at my hair and I touched the curls, feeling self-conscious. He shook his head. "You don't even look like yourself anymore."

I swallowed hard. "I'm asking you nicely, to please leave."

Frustration and anger flitted across his face.

"Chantelle, is not even a year yet. You cyan seriously tell me you going marry this man." He  gestured toward Samuel, who was standing at a safe distance, his face wrinkled as if he smelled something offensive.

"Boy, she asked you to leave." My father's voice was dangerously quiet.

Tony took a deep breath before stepping away from my father. I knew he was working hard to control his anger. Without saying another word, without even looking at me, he turned and walked away. I watched him walk across the lawn and through the gates. My father shot me a look that told me he would deal with me later, then he went to placate Samuel and his family. They were appalled, they said, and hoped they would never have to deal with this kind of thing again. My father laughed and reassured them. By now, my mother and cousins had made their way outside. No one seemed to notice me still standing there.

I went back into the courtesy room and stood at the window. The work had started once again, the chairs being put into place, the tents being erected. A truck drove in with the sound equipment.

I wondered, if I were to disappear, would anyone notice?

A warm hand touched my shoulder and I turned around, not even a little surprised. Tony stood before me, panting a little. I shook my head. "You went around the back?"

He nodded and grinned at me. Something gave way inside me and a sob worked its way up my throat. He stepped forward and pulled me towards him. At first I thought he was going to hold me close but he tilted my head up to his and pressed his lips to mine, gently and longingly. Even with the danger of being caught, I couldn't resist him, and within a few seconds the kiss flared into something more intense. Finally, he pressed a kiss to my forehead.

"It's been too long," he muttered. I nodded mutely, wiping my eyes. He leaned his head toward the window and together we watched the preparations outside. "Quite a party," he said.

"Mm-hmm."

"It look well expensive."

"It is."

He looked at me then, his soft, sad eyes full of feeling. Then he looked down at the red strappy heels I was wearing.

"You won't be able to run very far in those," he remarked.

I watched as my father caught sight of us through the window. His mouth moved angrily and he began making his way across the lawn, my mother not far behind.

My heart was beating fast, but not with fear. It thrummed inside my chest with feelings I hadn't felt in a long time.

I reached down and took my shoes off. Tony clasped my hand in his and grinned at me.

Then, we ran.