21. Rian
Twenty One
Rian
Afamily Sunday lunch is pretty common amongst Irish families, but whereas others head down to the local pub for a carvery meal and a pint, Mum has always insisted on a formal sit-down affair.
The family dining room, which is slightly more casual than the dining room where we entertain guests, is decked with silverware and linen napkins, and Mum’s ornate flower decoration in the middle of the table obscures my view of the Irish Sea and our boathouse through the French doors.
Dad is in his usual seat at the head of the table and drones on and on about responsibilities and expectations.
He’s not a bad guy; I actually like him, but since I returned home, he seems to have made it his mission in life to preach every chance he gets.
Mum, stylish as always in a navy cocktail dress and her favourite string of pearls – you don’t wear diamonds on a Sunday – looks at least ten years younger than the age in her passport.
She pretends to be listening to every boring word that comes out of his mouth.
Rosie, my normally chatty, seven-years-younger sister, has tuned out across the table from me.
She’s probably playing with her phone hidden on her lap.
Knox, who’s my junior by only one year, has come up with an excuse not to attend lunch, the lucky bastard.
“…and that is only one of the reasons why it’s important that the Kearney family comes across as role models—”
“Jesus, any chance we can change the fecking record?”
I speak without thinking and immediately regret it. Rosie lifts her head and pushes her dark hair over her shoulder, finally showing some interest. She probably smells blood.
“Rian!” Mum gasps. “Where are your manners? You don’t speak to your father like that!”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that it would be nice to talk about something else besides responsibility and conduct for a change.”
“What’s gotten into you, Rian?” Dad barks and places his hand over Mum’s, giving it a soft squeeze.
“Nothing’s gotten into me. It’s just…” I know I should shut up, but the words spill out of me. My self-control is playing hide and seek these days. “How about Rosie? Let’s talk about her for a change. How are your classes going? Will you pass any this year?”
Rosie’s glare could cut glass. We share the same grey-green eyes, but hers have some unusual specs of gold.
“I’m not worried about Rosie, therefore there is no need to talk about her or her classes.” Dad’s voice is like thunder, drowning the small huff that escapes my sister.
“She never passes any—”
Dad shuts me up before I can finish my sentence. “Whereas your behaviour is a constant worry, and until you show some change, I will continue to lecture you on conduct and responsibility!”
He throws his napkin on the table, the legs of his chair scraping against the wooden floor as he gets up and storms out of the room. I swear under my breath. It’s not often Dad loses his temper, the impact stark.
“Nice way to ruin lunch,” Rosie says sarcastically and leaves the table as well.
I have no idea why she looks so hurt. She’s over protected and spoiled rotten due to being ill when she was young, yet she’s become more trouble than I ever was, stringing boys along with her good looks and flirty manners.
Changing direction every term. Don’t get me started on her stint experimenting with drinks and drugs.
My father, however, is blind to her faults and any scandal she creates.
He only sees me and my flaws.
“Rian—” Mum starts, but I cut her off.
“Mum, please.”
“No, Rian, you listen to me.”
Mum never worked after she married. She, like so many in her circle, became a full-time housewife.
A housewife with a nanny, a cook and a cleaner.
Which meant ample time to pursue her creative passions and her rose garden – as well as going shopping, lunching and entertaining.
In fairness, it also allowed her to homeschool Rosie when she was sick.
The look on her face now is one I know all too well, although it’s not one she uses often.
That’s probably why I take a deep breath and steel myself for whatever speech she has in store for me.
“Your father compares your life with his own. When he was your age, his life was already bound with responsibilities. He was working hard to establish a new company from the ground up, and he was married with a second son on the way. Looking at you and the way you’re complaining about being bored, not taking anything seriously, he finds it difficult to take you seriously. ”
My stomach turns to acid at her description of me. Is that really all she sees in her oldest son? Can’t she see that I’m sacrificing my life to ensure Dad’s legacy lives on?
“If he wants me to be like him, then maybe I should start a company of my own.”
Mum waves her hand as if I’m a perpetual child talking nonsense. “What I’m saying is, maybe it’s time for you to settle down.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I choke on the words and train my eyes on the ceiling. Imaginary shackles tighten around my ankles. Settling down.
“Rian.” I shift my gaze to Mum’s at the insistence in her tone. “You and Alexandra are not getting any younger. Maybe it’s time you make your move?”
With those words, she rises and leaves me alone at the table.
Alexandra. My beautiful, perfect Alexandra.
We were boyfriend and girlfriend once, back when I was seventeen and she was fifteen.
We were the perfect couple, and the most popular kids in school.
It wasn’t just our families’ wealth that made us popular – no, I was popular because I was a natural leader, and Alexandra, even at that age, possessed the attitude of a queen – a gracefulness none of our peers could copy.
Yet she dumped me after only three months of holding hands and innocent kissing and fondling.
The only reason she gave me was that the time wasn’t right. “But one day I want to be yours. And yours only.”
I’ve been chasing her ever since. It’s become our thing, my half-hearted chase that she turns down with a laugh.
I never put in too much effort because I know we will eventually end up together, like she said.
Now, so many years later, there’s an added expectation from family and friends that we’ll get back together.
We make sense. Sometimes I think of us as royals – betrothed to each other from birth.
The Calla heiress and the prince of KSS.
We don’t really have a choice in the matter, the only control we have is deciding when we will join our kingdoms.
Maybe now is the right time?
The image of Catriona as I caressed her face flashes through my mind, but I quickly push it away. My destiny can’t be sidetracked by an office affair. My destiny is Alexandra.
* * *
“Rian?” Alexandra can’t hide her surprise at the other end of the phone.
We may be childhood friends, we may see each other several times a week, may even be on the trajectory of marriage, yet I normally never call her.
Whenever we’re together, it’s with other people around.
My chase of her is a public play, never a private one.
“Morning, Alexandra.” My reflection is faint in my living room window with the early morning sun blinding me. It means I can’t see the dark circles under my eyes after my sleepless night, tossing and turning, waking from dreams of endless, desolate concrete roads.
“Is everything okay?”
“Of course. Everything is fine. I was wondering… Do you want to go for drinks tomorrow night?” I run a hand through my hair and my quiet exhale is heavy. “The two of us?”
There’s a hesitation. Just a short one, but still so tangible. “Ach, Ri, you’re so sweet, but I’m working tomorrow night. Let’s catch up over some drinks later this week, yes? I’m meeting Leo on Thursday. Why don’t you join us?”
I almost laugh – both in relief and at her barely hidden panic. Alexandra isn’t ready for me. But I’ve taken the first step, cracked the door open, and now she knows we’re on the countdown.
Which means I have to end this affair with Catriona. It has to be done, and the sooner, the better.