The Way Back | ✓

7.4

"This holiday really is jolly isn't it?" her father laughed, though it lacked humour and sounded rather rude and sarcastic. "Gwen is getting married. I haven't even met the guy. You want me to meet someone special. Everybody is feeling the spirit, like you all forgot what Mum tried to do five years ago."

Dead silence.

London felt like she was slapped in the face. Should she feel guilty for being happy? It was Christmas and yes, there were horrible memories attached to it but she was trying to stay afloat during this time, as she suspected Gwen was doing as well. London had always been moody and pessimistic when it came to Christmas dinners after her mother's death, but this year was different. This year, she accepted her mother's death for what it was. This year she was sad, but she was also happy.

Her father's words made her feel guilty for feeling so.

"I — I never forgot," London stuttered, her voice breaking. "I could never."

She felt strong, warm arms embrace her from behind and because she was so acquainted with his body and how well it fit against hers, she knew it was Andrew that was behind her, giving her his silent support.

"Doesn't seem like it," her father bit back, finally getting onto his feet. He swayed a bit, blinked a couple of times before his eyes went above her head, at the figure behind her.

"Ah," her father smiled, the tone in his voice changing instantly, "You must be the person she wanted me to meet."

If you were sober and focused enough, you'd have noticed him standing at the doorway all this time, she wanted to yell because anger was slowly slipping into her blood and she wanted to release it in any way that she could. Instead, she bit the inside of her cheek and swallowed her words.

He held out his hand. "Nice to meet you..."

"Andrew Cai," her boyfriend finished for her father, removing one hand from her shoulder and extending it to her father.

One firm handshake later and the room was back to tense silence.

"All right," London clapped her hands, smiling broadly though she had an overwhelming urge to cry. Pushing down the tears, she said, ushering the two men out of the study, "Let's go help Gwen set the table. And no, Dad, no more drinks for you."

Andrew and Gwen were the ones that mostly talked through dinner. London was silent, thinking about how much better dinner with Andrew's parents actually were. That night with his parents was challenging, especially with how straightforward his mother was, but she overall enjoyed the night. It wasn't as bad as this.

"You know, Dad," London started, cutting off the casual conversation about football that Andrew and Gwen had going on, "You could try a little harder."

"With what?" he asked.

"With Gwen, with me, with Mum."

That got him to stop eating. He raised his head, his eyes pinned on her, the stare behind it intense but London wasn't about to step down from a glare, even if it came from her father.

"Excuse me?"

"Mum's dead, Dad. I know it hurts. I live with that every day. I know it's painful. You weren't the only one who experienced that sadness. You can say losing a wife is different from losing a mother but that's a load of bullshit. You, me and Gwen — we all lost the same person. We all went through hell. We all had to pick ourselves up. Except you haven't learnt to pick yourself up, even if it's been four years. Death is... hard. There's no one way to deal with the loss of a loved one. Gwen coped with it differently. I coped with it differently. But you, Dad? You don't seem to be coping with it at all."