"Charles, get over here, will you? Neil has just arrived and he's brought a black girl."

I couldn't believe what the woman had just said, right in front of my face, frost in her voice. It was even harder to believe that this was Neil's mother; she had the coldest mannerisms. But harder to believe out of everything, is that I had agreed to come to the party in the first place. I regretted it already.

"Veronica, now is that any way to treat a guest?" Neil's father had his arm around his wife and exuded a false charm, a plastic face he possibly administered on everyone.

"Hi. I want you two to meet someone very special to me. Christelle Cyrus." I extended my hand. No one shook it.

"Well, Christelle, you must be some girl. Our boy here, has never brought home a girl." Charles, still wearing a plastic grin, grabbed my arm, pulling me inside and towards the sitting area. The room was buzzing with conversation. He had ignored Neil made it quite obvious he had no interest in any recent news of his son's life. Charles moved his arm over my shoulders, Neil and Veronica trailed behind. It was clear, I was Charles' new play thing.

"Let me introduce you to my good friend and colleague, Pat Turner. Pat and I go way back. Been fighting for the legal rights of our clients forever. If you're looking for a defense attorney that will spin the head off any jury, well then this is the man you want at your table."

Charles tapped a rotund, short man on the shoulder. Pat spun around, quickly realizing he was the center of attention and his full flair became apparent.

"Ah, now Charles, who do you have here with you. You always pick the prettiest girls in the room." He was holding a tumbler filled with ice and liquid. I could smell the whiskey on his breath as he unashamedly placed a firm kiss on my lips. I violently pulled away, unable to hide my disgust. Pat's face was puffy and red, and he had a receding hairline to match the years of alcohol abuse written on his sagging skin. His eyes flashed with intelligence but were streaked with thick red veins.

"Pat, this is Christelle. She is Neil's new one. He finally made it to a family function!" They both smirked, Charles pushing me aside as if I had suddenly become a nuisance, and said, "Excuse us, Christella Bella, we're due for a re-fill. But let me fix you a drink."

"I'm eighteen..."

"Never too late my girl, never too late." With that, he linked arms with Pat, and left me, alone. Neil was no where in sight.

I went to the eats table and started chewing on a carrot stick. I had the company of an obese sloth who only seemed to open his mouth to add another chocolate eclair. He looked so happy, and I almost joined in on the fanfare.

He suddenly saw he wasn't alone, and said, "Veronica takes pains on these dainties. Come on, try the banana bread. Heavenly. I spend so much money in her bakery. Worth every penny. Not cheap, though." I could imagine it left him out of pocket at month end. "Tonight it's all free. I'm stocking up my fuel engine."

I was suddenly struck with disgust, sadly realizing that, four months before, this had been me.

"No thanks. I'm on the fresh veg tonight. If you'll excuse me-" and I walked away as fast as my legs could manage - my legs owed me that much. I had disciplined my mouth enough to get them into a rather attractive silhouette. They were no longer my former ankle-less tree-trunks. Small mercies.

Neil was suddenly next to me, hastily grabbing my hand. "I've been in the kitchen talking to Veronica." He said, blandly. It was obvious she had never been his 'mother' or 'mom'. I had heard all the stories of neglect. Frankly, I had found it surprising that he had wanted to visit. It was now clear why he had told me on our first date that he was 'an accessory, not a child' to these two strangers.

"Veronica is about to make an announcement. No surprise to me, her decision." Someone tapped a drinking glass to signal a moment of quiet. No one seemed to notice. I was too short to see over the tall crowd. This time a female voice screamed rather rudely, "Will you miserable lot shut the heck up! Veronica has something to say." After another minute of mumbling, the room reluctantly went silent.

"Thank you." said a short, curly-haired lady dressed in jeans a size too small, and a T-shirt too short to cover the muffin-top leaning precariously over the top of her jeans.

"That's Merle, Veronica's best friend." Neil said quietly.

"Thank you for all being here to celebrate such a big moment in Charles' life." There were the odd cheers, but nothing enthusiastic.

"Tonight, dear Charles, you are surrounded by your contemporaries, your friends, acquaintances, your wife and Neil, a moment in time you will not easily forget. Before I hand the microphone over to Veronica, let us all raise a glass to celebrate you, tonight a ripe fifty years, who has sacrificed everything to become the man we see here tonight..." it felt like she was trying to add some complementary words, but found none. "Happy birthday!"

"Here, here." replied the crowd. I was quickly realizing that no one in the room was here to celebrate, as much as hope from him a swift retirement announcement.

"And now Veronica, our long-suffering friend and patient wife, will share a few words."

Neil squeezed my hand, crushing my fingers in his,"Hold your breath, Chris. This is not going to be pretty."

"What do you mea..." Before I could finish, Veronica started tapping annoyingly on the microphone.

"Hello, can everyone hear me." She was loud and clear. "Right, I've waited a long time to bring together such an important room of people. Happy birthday, Charles. I want a divorce." With that, she walked proudly out, shoulders back, a look of satisfaction on her face, sheer exhilaration. She lit up like a match, burning, alive for the first time in thirty years.