I didn’t want to join the party too early so I took my time over my choice of outfit. My sister J walked into the room just as I was putting on a pale blue tight-fit cotton trouser suit with blue suede high-heeled boots. Both she and I agreed that there was nothing in my cupboard suitable to wear under the suit jacket, so I buttoned it up tight and hoped that nobody would notice my white bra underneath. We headed downstairs, leaving JG and others working their way through my wardrobe in an attempt to source suitable party outfits for themselves.
The party itself turned out to be some kind of work convention in Toronto located underneath a shopping mall near to a mini fake French chateau. I found part of the trade floor curtained off for VIPs like me. The first woman to greet me immediately issued an instruction that I head to Gap and buy myself a white scoop neck T shirt. I couldn’t possibly be seen at a professional event in such a state of undress.
I wanted to blame TPR for all this. Had he not left me I would have known what to wear. I left another desperate voicemail message on his phone pleading with him to return to his wife, even though I knew that this was completely out of the question. I had given my best years to him, yet now I was destined to see out the rest of my days as a sad, single, old woman.