Inevitable - Kristen Granata Page 0,38

for far too long, until I clear my throat.

“Damn, body guard. You clean up nicely.”

Graham chuckles. “Thanks, Deanna. You look beautiful.”

“Oh, stop.” She swats at his chest, then yanks his tie to pull him closer. “But please, go on.”

I throw my head back and laugh before prying her fingers from Graham’s tie. “Back off, girl. Let’s go find our table.”

“I’m going to say hello to my friends,” Dad says, gesturing to a table at the far end of the ballroom.

We claim our seats at the table closest to the stage, and I introduce Graham to Deanna’s boyfriend, Will. Everyone makes small talk around me, but I don’t hear anything they say. I wring my hands together, going over my speech for the gazillionth time.

“Don’t be nervous,” Graham whispers, lacing his fingers with mine. “You’re going to be amazing up there. I’m so proud of you.”

The weight of his words doesn’t have time to settle in before a tapping on the microphone booms through the speakers. “If I could have everyone’s attention. Please find your seats.” The woman on stage makes a visor with her hand as her gaze sweeps over the room.

Everyone’s chatter dies down as the seats fill up. Dad slips into the empty chair beside me with a wink.

“My name is Maria Delfini.” The woman at the podium smiles. “On behalf of The National Alliance on Mental Illness, I would like to thank everyone for attending tonight.”

There’s light applause, and Graham squeezes my bouncing knee under the table. My stomach is in knots, and it feels like my heart is pounding in my throat.

Deanna slides a champagne flute in front of Graham, and jerks her thumb toward me. I take the stem of the glass from Graham, and down the contents in one gulp.

“We are an organization dedicated to addressing the needs of those living with mental illness,” the woman continues, “and to help the families of those suffering. But we wouldn’t be gathered here tonight if it weren’t for one very special person who put this event together.”

She pauses, and my pulse thumps in the silence.

“I’d like to invite Miss Evangeline Montalbano up to the stage.”

I inhale a shaky breath and rise from my chair. My legs somehow carry me up the stairs and across the stage. I shake hands with Maria and take the microphone from her while I wait for the applause to die down.

“Thank you, Maria.” I find Graham at the table to the right, and his beaming smile calms my nerves. He mouths, You got this, and I nod.

“I lost my brother to depression last year. I knew he was troubled. I knew he was going through something I couldn’t understand. But he was still my brother. We still had fun together. We still laughed together. He smiled whenever he was by my side. I guess that’s why I didn’t realize how badly he was suffering.”

A tear slides down my cheek as a vision of Eric’s smiling face enters my mind. “And that’s the thing about depression: You can’t see it. You can’t detect it if a person doesn’t want you to. Doctors can’t find it in a blood test. They can’t spot it on an x-ray. Too many people are suffering in silence as a result of that. Too many people feel ashamed of their disease, and too many are afraid to ask for the help they need.

“Our mental health goes unseen, but it shouldn’t go unheard of. Tonight, I’m raising more than just money. I’m raising awareness for a cause that goes far beyond the loss of my brother. I’m hoping to help end the stigma that surrounds depression, and other mental health disorders. The more we talk about it, and the more we show our support, the more comfortable people will feel opening up about their invisible pain. Maybe together, we can save lives and change them for the better. So, I ask you to open your hearts, open your minds, and please, open your wallets. And to anyone suffering out there right now, you are not alone. Thank you for coming.”

Applause rips through the room. Both Graham and my father dab at their eyes as they stand and clap.

Maria pulls me into an embrace before returning to the microphone to let everyone know that the food will be out shortly.

Deanna rushes toward me as I reach the bottom of the stairs. “That was perfect. You did amazing.”

“Alcohol. I need more alcohol.”

She laughs and drags me toward our table. “We’ve