Relieved and satisfied, I looked up at Mark, who was still holding me in his arms, and smiled.
“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he teased, and I punched him lightly on the arm as I finally trusted my legs to hold my weight once more and stood up once more.
“I guess it wasn’t too bad,” I replied. I still felt such a multitude of emotions, my head was spinning.
“Good. We’re just in time, too, I think they’re about to get us to find our tables and serve dinner.
Sure enough, a couple of minutes later someone went up to the podium and it was announced that the meals were about the be served. Mark slipped his arm in between mine, and we made our way back down the stairs towards one of the tables at the front of the room.
“This is going to be the worst part, our family is all going to have to sit at the same table and pretend to be civil to each other.”
I could only nod in reply. I had to admit, Mark’s mother scared me. His father wasn’t so bad, but I knew there was something more there, something Mark wasn’t telling me.
Mark and I had seats facing away from the stage. To my relief, Sam’s name card was on the other side of me.
Mark’s father was the next to arrive at the table, seating himself down. He immediately turned to me.
“How are you doing, Caroline? Are you enjoying yourself?”
“I am, thanks. I’m getting to know Sam, we’re getting along wonderfully.”
“Excellent, it’s good someone’s taking care of you while you’re here.”
I glanced discreetly at Mark when I heard the comment, but his face was like marble. Still, I knew he’d heard the comment, and I knew it had been meant to be heard.
Before I had a chance to reply, however, Mark’s mother arrived, being attended to by two of the wait staff who had evidently been charged with helping her into her chair.
“I’m just old, I’m not useless,” she snapped as she grabbed the back of the chair herself, steadied herself for a second, then sat down.
“Now, give me my cane,” she ordered, and the staff did so before immediately leaving, obviously glad they were away from the cranky old woman.
“I swear, it’s like they think I’m a cripple,” Andrea Selzer complained to no one in particular as she settled into her seat.
“That’s because you are a cripple dear. We’re old, get used to it. Embrace it,” Mark’s father retorted.
“Easy for you to say, you can still walk without a stick holding you up.”
“Yes, well, you would be able to as well if you’d ever listened to what the doctors told you.”
I wasn’t sure if I should be amused at the old married couple fight, but going by the look on Mark’s face, he was horrified that I had to see this.
“Come on mother, it’s fine. You’re in your seat now, and they’re going to start bringing out dinner.”
Sure enough, the waiters came by with the first appetizer. Mark immediately grabbed the smallest fork on his plate, making sure I noticed, and I did the same. I was thankful for his subtle help, there were three forks on the table alone, I wouldn’t have had a clue which one to use without him, and being here with his parents was absolutely not the time to make any major social faux-pas.
The first few dishes went relatively uneventfully. We made small talk, his father asked me about my work, and his mother refrained from making the comments about it she obviously wanted to.
All through the meal, however, I could tell something was wrong. It was something I couldn’t quite place, couldn’t put my finger on exactly, but I knew it was there. There was a tension, like an unspoken secret between all of the members of the family. I had thought I’d felt it when Mark spoke about his family, but I didn’t know what it was. Now I knew I wasn’t imagining it, something was definitely up.
When desert was brought out, an absolutely beautiful dark chocolate and raspberry soufflé that tasted like heaven, Mark’s mother made the comment that sparked everything.
“Well, goodness me, I couldn’t possibly eat this dessert, it’s so rich, and I have to watch my figure.”
I noticed out of the corner of my eye as she said this Sam putting down the spoon that had been halfway to her mouth with her first bite. Not realizing the implications, I still took a bite of mine, and Mark’s mother glowered at me.
“Of course,” she continued, “I suppose some of us don’t really need to care about our appearance.”
It took me a second to realize that she was insulting me, saying that I didn’t need to care about my looks because I didn’t belong in society, but before I had a chance to say anything in reply, Mark had already opened his mouth.