As she stepped into the foyer, a sudden rush of jitteriness consumed her, almost paralyzing her.
The house was the same, nothing had changed except for the different colors of balloon decoration that was all over the place. The feeling that assaulted her whenever she stepped in, was still the same.
She paved the way for some guests to file into the lobby when she couldn't walk past the foyer.
Leaning on the door that led to the hallway, she overheard her sisters' giggles. She knew the sound of each of them when they laughed. She wanted to run away before they met up with her, she turned towards the living room and bumped into Callan.
"Oh shit, I am so sorry." She looked up to see who it was. "Callan?" She was surprised.
"I thought it would be good to hold your hands." He stretched out his hand and she took it without hesitation.
She peeked over her shoulder to see if her sisters were close but none of them was there anymore. It stung her chest. She wished Callan had shown up when they were near.
Callan led her to one of the guest chairs that was arranged in style in the lobby.
"The settings are great." Callan let go of her hand, lowering himself on the chair that surrounded one of the tables.
Orla sat across, her fingers fiddling around each other. She wasn't comfortable at all. Beads of sweat dropped down her face. She didn't know what to do. Maybe attending the party was a bad idea after all.
Callan was still scrutinizing the lobby, impressed with the interior design when he sighted Arnold conversing with some business partners he had worked with in the past. He seized that opportunity to present the gift he had gotten for him, to him.
"Come with me," he said to Orla.
She trailed his eyes and they landed on her father. His face lit up with smiles. He was shaking hands with everyone who wished him well. He looked so young and animated in the black suit he wore, Orla would have doubted he really was sixty if he wasn't her father.
She watched Callan as he approached her father, studying as the smile left his lips when he saw her husband. She clutched her purse to her chest, contemplating whether to go with Callan or just sit still and watch them from where she was.
"Happy birthday to the great Arnold Sullivan." Callan let out a sharp smile, extending his palm for a handshake.
"Oh, you are here?" Arnold forced a smile, sliding his palm into Callan's. When he didn't see Orla by his side, he chuckled and said. "Alone? See you got tired of your wife already. I told you, didn't I?"
Orla appeared behind her husband right after her father's words.
"Guess the great Arnold Sullivan is wrong," Callan smiled again. "My wife is here with me and together, we would like to present this to you." He handed him the package and Arnold begrudgingly took it from him. "Orla specially picked that for you. She seems to know what you like." He smiled, reaching for Orla's hand.
She took his hand and smiled. Callan bent a little to her level, placing a soft kiss on her hand.
"You can tell that I am taking care of your daughter better than you took care of her." Callan could see the fury that marred Arnold's expression as he clenched his fist. He winked at Orla and let go of her hands. "You will get a grandchild soon. No, grandchildren.”
Orla gaped at his words, she looked at Callan, lost and speechless. She didn't understand why he was trying to irk her father. But whatever reason it was, she felt good that Callan was doing that for her even though it was all bogus.
And about the grandchildren, they will talk about it later.
Orla stared long at her father, struggling with the words. But she said to him, "Happy birthday, Father." A sad smile left her lips.
"I didn't invite you here," Arnold said harshly. "My assistant made a mistake by including you in the guests' list."
"It doesn't matter, we got an invitation after all." Callan shrugged his shoulders. Orla was still staring at Arnold, thinking, wondering why he hated her so much.
"Hi Dad," Mia kissed Arnold's cheeks, her strapless blue gown brushing the floor. As expected, she looked so pretty, intimidating Orla with her looks. "Hello, Mr Barlowe." Her eyes swept past Orla in disgust. "The media is here and they would like to have an interview with you. your presence is needed." She informed her father.
"I thought I said no paparazzi," Arnold scrunched up his face, annoyed.
"Trust me, Dad. There are no paparazzi around. It's just an entertainment channel and I warned them not to trespass."
After a thoughtful look at Mia, Arnold gave in, "Let's go," he took a turn, but stopped then looked back at Callan. "And thanks for the gift, Callan."
"You are very much welcome, Mr Arnold Sullivan." Callan smiled smugly.
He turned to take his daughter's hand and they walked down to the throne chair that had been reserved for Arnold.
Orla stood still, her eyes on her sister and her father as they greeted the guests present. She wished she could do that too, she wished she could proudly take her father's hand and walk around with him.
"I will be at our table," Callan said, walking back to the table.
Orla nodded and followed after him, avoiding all eyes that were on her. She hated to be the cynosure of all eyes in a room. She knew everyone's eyes were on her because she was with Callan. They were curious, they wanted to know more about her.
Though Callan was a snob, he was still very popular in the business world and more people were interested in his life, especially when he had a woman with him.
Arnold was called to the makeshift stage to cut the huge castle cake and all his daughters surrounded him, looking very beautiful and elegant. He placed soft kisses on their cheeks as he steadied the knife in his hand, a very big smile plastered all over his face.
Fat folds of tears rushed down Orla's face as she looked at her family. She was unwanted, not recognised, loathed and forsook. She wanted to be a part of them but she knew she couldn't.
Callan looked at her, observing the tears that dropped down her face as she stared at her family. She was crying uncontrollably, wiping her tears with her thumb.
"You should have come with a handkerchief if you planned to cry here." Callan groaned, tossing his handkerchief on the table. Orla took it and wiped her tears. When she didn't stop crying, he said, "You know you can join them if you want to, you don't have to sit here and cry your eyes out."
"No, I can't." Her voice sounded low and somehow it broke Callan's heart to see her like that. "They don't want me there. No one knows me as his daughter."
"But I did,"
"Only a few people do." Her eyes were still on them. Arnold and each of his six daughters took turns in posing for a shot. They were all happy and she didn't want that smile to fade from their faces.
"Well, you can choose to join them if you want to." He sounded unbothered as he chewed a piece of steak. "And can you stop crying?"
Orla let out sniffles, she couldn't control the tears as they poured down her cheeks. She thought about Callan's idea of joining them and she suddenly rose to her feet, breathing hard.
"So, do you want to join them now?" He smiled but Orla didn't give a response. She took two steps forward and looked back at Callan.
She couldn't sit there anymore, she had to do this.
She walked closer until she was almost in front of her family. She didn't care what the outcome would be, but right now, all she wanted was to take a picture with her family.