Cecelia Ahern - The Gift

“I have to go,” he said to no one in particular, trying to make his way to the elevator. He pushed right through the crowd, some people grabbing him and trying to dance with him, others blocking his path and spilling their drinks. “I have to go,” he said a little more aggressively now. His head was pounding; he was nauseous; he felt as though he had just woken up in the body of a man who had taken over his life and had almost thrown it all away. “I have to go,” he said, continuing to make his way to the elevator. Finally he reached it and pressed the call button. He didn’t want to meet Mr. Patterson, didn’t care about the job; he just wanted to be with his family. He kept his head down and waited.

“Lou!” He heard his name. He kept his head down, ignoring the voice. “Lou! I need a minute with you!” He ignored it again, watching the floors rising on the elevator panel and shaking his leg anxiously, hoping he’d get inside before it was too late.

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Lou! I’ve been calling you!” a friendly voice said.

He turned around. “Ah, Mr. Patterson, hello. Sorry.” Lou was aware his voice was edgy, but he needed to get out of there. He’d promised Ruth. He pressed down on the elevator button again. “I’m in a bit of a rush, it’s my dad’s se — ”

“We won’t take long, I promise. Just a word.” Mr. Patterson pulled gently on his arm.

“Okay.” Lou turned around, biting his lip.

“I was rather hoping we could talk in my office, if you don’t mind.” Mr. Patterson smiled.

He led Lou down to his office, where they sat down opposite each other on aged brown leather couches. Lou felt around in his pocket for his pills. He shouldn’t be here. He really shouldn’t be here. He reached for the glass of water Mr. Patterson poured for him, trying to control the tremble in his hand.

“Would you like something stronger, Lou?”

“No, thank you, Mr. Patterson.” He waited for the opportunity to take the pill, but Mr. Patterson kept his eyes on him at all times.

“Laurence, please.” Mr. Patterson shook his head again. “Honestly, Lou, you make me feel like a schoolteacher when you address me so. Well, I’m going to have one, anyway.” Mr. Patterson stood up and made his way over to his drinks cabinet. He poured himself a brandy from a crystal decanter. “You sure you won’t have one?” he offered again. “Rémy XO.” He swirled it midair, tauntingly.

“Okay, I will, thank you.” Lou smiled and relaxed a little, his panic to get across the river to the other party subsiding slightly.

“Good.” Mr. Patterson smiled. “So, Lou, let’s talk about your future. It’s going to be a long one. How much time do you have?”

Lou took his first sip of the expensive brandy, and he was brought back to the room, back to the present. He pulled his cuffs over his watch and took a deep breath, trying to ignore the clock ticking away on the wall, trying to put his father’s party out of his head. It would all be worth it. They would all understand. They would all be too busy celebrating to notice he wasn’t even there.

“I have all the time you need.” Lou smiled nervously.

WHEN LOU ARRIVED AT THE venue for his father’s party — late — he was sweating profusely as though he’d broken out in a high fever, despite the December chill outside that squeezed into the joints and whistled around the body. He was breathless and nauseous at the same time. Relieved and exhilarated.

He’d decided to host his father’s party in the famous building that Gabe had admired the very first day they’d met. Shaped like a sail, it was lit up in blue, Patterson Development’s award-winning building, which was sure to impress his father and relatives from around the country. Directly in front of the building, the Viking longship’s tall mast was decorated in Christmas lights.

When he reached the door, Marcia was outside giving it to a large doorman dressed in black. Bundled in coats, hats, and scarves, a crowd of twenty or so were standing around, stamping their feet on the pavement in order to stay warm.

“Hi, Marcia,” Lou said happily, trying to break up the argument. He was bursting to tell her about the promotion, but he had to bite his lip; he had to find Ruth to tell her first.

Marcia turned to face him, her eyes red and blotchy, her mascara smudged. “Lou,” she spat, her anger now fully aimed at him.

His stomach did somersaults, which was rare. He never usually cared what his sister thought of him, but tonight he cared more than usual.

“What’s wrong?”

She walked him a few paces from the crowd and came firing at him. “I’ve been trying to call you for an hour.”

“I was at my work party, I told you that. What’s wrong?”

“You are what’s wrong,” she said shakily, her voice somewhere between anger and deep sadness. She inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled. “It’s Daddy’s birthday, and for his sake I won’t ruin it any more than it already has been by causing an argument, so all I have to say is, would you please tell this brute to let our family in. Our family” — she raised her voice to a quivering screech — “who has traveled from all over the country to share in” — her voice went weepy again — “in Dad’s special day. But instead of being with his family, he’s up there in a practically empty room while everybody is out here being turned away. Five people have already gone home.”

“What? What?” Lou’s heart leapt into his throat. He rushed to the doormen. “Hi, guys, Lou Suffern.” He held out his hand, and the doormen shook it with all the life of a dead fish. “I’m organizing the party tonight. What seems to be the problem here?” He looked around at the crowd and instantly recognized all the faces. Most were close family friends whose homes he’d grown up visiting, and all were over the age of sixty. They stood on the freezing cold pavement in December, elderly couples hanging on to one another, trembling with the cold, some leaning on crutches, one man in a wheelchair. In their hands were sparkly bags and cards, bottles of wine and champagne, gifts that had been wrapped neatly and thoughtfully for the big night.

“No invites, no entry,” one doorman explained.

One couple flagged down a taxi and slowly made their way to where it had pulled over, while Marcia chased after them, trying to convince them to stay.

Lou laughed angrily. “Gentlemen, do you think that these people are party crashing?” He lowered his voice. “Come on, look at them. My father is celebrating his seventieth birthday. These are his friends. There was obviously a mistake with the invitations. I arranged with my secretary Alison for there to be a guest list.”

“These people aren’t on the list. This building has strict guidelines as to who comes in and who — ”

“Fuck the guidelines,” Lou said through gritted teeth so that those behind him couldn’t hear. “It is my father’s birthday, and these are his guests. And as the person who is paying for this party, and as the man who got this building off the ground, I’m telling you to let these people in.”

Moments later the members of the group were shuffling inside, warming themselves while waiting in the grand lobby for the elevators to take them up to the top floor.

“You can relax now, Marcia; it’s all sorted out.” Lou tried to make amends with his sister as they got in the last elevator. She had refused to speak to him or even look at him for the last ten minutes while they’d managed to get everyone inside and up to the penthouse. “Marcia, come on,” he laughed lightly. “Don’t be like this.”