I don’t even know why I’m here. Eric’s very big on the whole self-advertising thing but, I’m never really that comfortable in a room compact with people. I guess I’d deal with it better if he offered me a little support. You know, just stayed with me for a minute or two to allow me to collect myself.

Or just acknowledged my exsistence at all in public.

No, he shot off earlier as soon as we arrived, but not before he warned me.

"Don’t embarrass me." I’ll try. I always do try.

I sniff quietly and look down at the simple black dress I’d chosen.

Oh why did I wear this? Eric’s right, it shows off way too much flesh. You can see my giant thighs through it too. Oh, he’s going to be mad later. Oh, I hope this deal goes down successfully.

Perhaps if things go well this evening, Eric won’t be so bad later on. He might stay in their bed. He might stay sober. I could fix us something light to snack upon and we could eat together.

Like couples should. Like a family should.

Sighing softly and steeling myself from my thoughts, I slope off to the area where some of Eric’s works are being displayed. My favourite’s there, but I’m not sure I should go over there right now. There’s a rather large group surrounding it.. Perhaps I’ll wait. Eric wouldn’t be pleased if I were to show him up.

Again. Poor, frumpy Tina. Embarrassing herself and her fiance.

No, I’ll just observe the one that’s closest. It’s not a particularly good depiction. It’s supposed to be reminiscent of the famous picture "Rowing Home The Schoof-Stuff" which, I think, is currently displayed in a Media Museum somewhere in England. The crowd nearby have retreated slightly. I approach the picture and stand a little way off to the right.

Just in case they strike up a conversation.

I sigh. Eric despises this piece, it had landed here in the gallery only by pure accident. The gallery director had noticed it whilst in a meeting with Eric’s agent. The director had refused point blank to continue their meeting unless she could have the piece in the exhibition. That had been the one Eric’s to meet tonight, a certain "B. Porter". I can’t see Eric getting on with the person who had to have the picture of his fat fiance and what he’d referred to as ‘a dirty little street urchin’.

I hope this Porter guy knows who he’s dealing with.

I feel a stir somewhere deep within me as I stare at the picture. Yes, that’s me reaching for that tiny hand. God, that boy. He’d really been something. I sigh deeply for the umpteenth time this evening, but it’s a sigh with more feeling than the others. It holds something strong inside. He’d been so surprised when I’d reached for his hand. So happy, but so sad too. He’d had that look about him; He truly was all alone in the world. I remember feeling so humbled when he’d trembled slightly in my palm. His skin, rough from the cold and his fingernails dirty from sleeping in the park.

Eric had been snapping away for some reason, and he’d caught the moment. Of course, he’d thought it a waste of film but as soon as I saw it, I just felt so alive. Like I’d evolved somewhat as a human.

Just because Eric has the sensitivity of a paperclip.

The child hadn’t felt intruded when I sat and played with him. He’d laughed.

Sweet Lord, what a beautiful laugh.

We took him to a hostel the same day. I visited him in secret for months until he was adopted. I’d wanted so much to adopt him for myself. I brought it up with Eric once, who, of course, dismissed it immediately as an overdrive of my hormones. Getting broody, he’d told me, was never good news. We didn’t share a room that night.

I’d have loved that boy more than anything. The boy who had wept thankfully in my arms everytime I left him. The boy who I’d held in my arms while I wept thankfully the only time he’d left me. Instead, I got a copy of this print.

A secondary consolation prize.

I realise I’ve been staring for a while at the picture, and I sense someone to my left approaching. I back off quickly before they can initiate interaction. I run before I can make a fool of myself.