Clandestine

twenty five

I'm going to vomit again. There are too many people here. They all are looking for my father. A few of his regular friends that recognize me approach me and ask me where he is. I just smile and make up some excuse and hurry away.

Of course it is just my luck that my father planned a party for today. Marcia Quintana told me that I had to act like he wasn't dead, including throwing the parties. I didn't know there was party today until the cleaning staff came and started preparing.

I just pretended that my father had told me. When they asked me for some details, I said that he was still at work. I said that he would be happy with whatever they chose to do and that he really appreciated them taking control.

Once the house was sparkling, more people came to set up the party. I don't know what my father had in mind, but I can only hope that it didn't require his presence. Hopefully this was one of his smaller, more social, less grand show parties. Normally he does throw a big party like the one of a few days ago and then a much smaller one so that everyone can gush about the one before.

The whole room is decorated in white cloth and sparkling blue lights. I have no idea what my father was planning. It brings tears to my eyes. He's still here, even after his death. His plans for his parties are eternal. I wonder how far ahead he has these parties planned.

I don't know if I should laugh or cry at the idea of my father's parties living longer than him.

People began arriving soon after the setup crew left. I hide in the kitchen with the hired cooking staff. Luckily they brought their own ingredients or else they would have had to make mac and cheese with souring milk.

Eventually I brave the crowd. Someone started music and everyone is dancing. Some people are already drunk, even though it's only eight. I walk around in my black dress and only talk to people if they talk to me. I would rather hide in the kitchen all night, but I know that people will find it suspicious if both my father and I are missing.

Someone bumps against me. I turn to find two drunk teenagers giggling against themselves.

I sigh and try to keep my face blank so that no one catches on to how exhausted and scared and stressed and depressed I am.

Will I be able to survive this night without my father?