In every class, no matter how many years have passed, theres that core group the people who keep in touch, meet up, and hold the circle together. When an anniversary rolls around, the same faces take charge of the venue, the menu, the programme everything by habit, easy and friendly.
When the guest list came up, the conversation grew sharper. Of course the teachers have to be invited. But all the former classmates will everyone be there?
Everyone will be, Stephen said confidently. Only we havent asked Sam Gordon. Hes a drunken fool now.
How can Sam not be invited? shouted Lily, the bespectacled one with the thick frames. He will be! Ive spoken to him.
Lily, Violet, the former class monitor, replied quietly, he might get drunk and that would be awkward. I saw him the other day, barely standing, didnt even recognise me.
Lily sighed.
Its fine. I know hes getting ready.
Maybe, she added, this reunion matters to him more than it does to any of us put together.
—
At school Sam had been a different sort of boy. Softspoken, courteous, never raised his voice or hurt anyone. He listened, helped, and was there when someone needed him. His notebooks were neat, his handwriting even, and his dictations spotless. Physics and maths came easily; formulas seemed to whisper their solutions straight to him. He almost always left the Olympiads with a certificate maybe not first place, but always a result. At assemblies he was placed beside the top students, and a hand placed on his shoulder felt less like pride than sheer embarrassment thats how he took any compliment.
He dreamed of a career in the armed forces after Year 9. I still remember a visit to the open day at the Royal Military Academy when the class teacher took us there. He came back buzzing with excitement, talking about uniforms, drill, discipline, and how they would teach him to be useful. Everyone believed hed make it.
At home, though, things were different. His father had died long ago, and his mother drank.
One evening, after a heavy binge, she turned up at the final school bell, wobbling at the back of the hall, eyes glazed, hair a mess. When Sam was handed his certificate, she shouted, Well done, Sam! My boy! He stood there with his face flushing, hands clenched, as if he wanted to sink into the floor. His mothers praise landed like a sudden blast something he didnt need at all.
His plans for the military fell apart. He feared his sister would be taken into care if he left, so he stayed on at school, took odd jobs in the evenings, began skipping lessons, fell in with a bad crowd, and everything went off the rails.
—
He prepared for the reunion in his own way. He found a grey suit a size too big but clean. He spent ages picking a shirt, ironing it, checking the buttons. He shaved carefully, tidied his hair doing the best he could. He hadnt had a drink in two days; he wanted to be himself that night when everyone gathered.
When he reached the restaurant he hesitated at the doorway. He lingered just out of sight, watching his old mates meet, hug, flash something on their phones, joke and laugh loudly, as if life had become that easy for them. He stood there, embarrassed and uncertain, as if a single misstep could shatter the delicate picture of the evening.
After about an hour he finally gathered the nerve and went in.
—
He stood on the threshold hair clean but untrimmed, a suit that didnt quite fit, shoulders slightly slumped, eyes shy and hesitant.
Lily called out immediately, Sam, over here! This is your spot!
He stepped forward. The room brightened: toasts, laughter, music. Sam drank barely anything, ate almost nothing he simply sat, listened, observed. Occasionally a faint smile flickered across his face.
As the night wound down, Sam rose. His voice trembled, each word a struggle, as if years of tension were finally being squeezed out.
Thank you thank you for inviting me this is probably the best thing thats happened to me in the last fifteen years
His eyes glistened, a lump rose in his throat, shoulders tightened, his hands shook slightly. He was vulnerable, open, like a child believing for the first time that he would be accepted as he was.
I Im really grateful Forgive me if I ever well, if I hurt anyone
Then a chorus replied, Of course, Sam! Were thrilled youre here! We never even considered not inviting you!
His heartfelt words were softened by that collective echo smiles, pats on the back, loud assurances. It wasnt genuine compassion; it was the smooth, social politeness of a group unwilling to dig deeper. Pure hypocrisy: warm words, fleeting eyes, showoff concern.
Lily watched it all, thinking, You didnt really want to invite him
But the crucial thing thank God Sam didnt see through it. He believed their words because he had no reason to doubt. He thanked them, bowed a little embarrassedly, and was among the first to leave. He slipped out of the hall quietly, without farewells, without waiting, without looking back.
After him the laughter kept going, old stories resurfaced, people talked about where they worked, how they lived, who theyd met and again the clink of glasses, music, and chatter filled the room.
—
Late that night, Lily, on her way home, spotted Sam on a bench outside the block, under a dim streetlamp. He was slumped, already drunk, eyes glazed, hands resting on his knees. He didnt recognise Lily. She drew nearer, her heart tightening.
Why did you drink, Sam? You held yourself together tonight, you were yourself why now?
Lily stared at him, at the dark courtyard, the empty windows, the lone lamp, and thought:
How many lives break quietly, unnoticed, because there was no hand, no shoulder, no kind word nearby? And if someone had been there, would Sam be sitting here now, in that illfitting suit, drunk
The question lingered in the nights silence. No answer came.
