Page 52 of Lost in the Current of You

Although their divorce was pretty neutral, they always ended up fighting and Mum storming out of the house.

So Christmas wasn’t really a happy time for me.

“Can’t we have dinner with just the three of us this year? I mean Mum would prefer to work anyway, why make her feel obliged to join us?” I complained.

Dad narrowed his eyes at me, which looked very unserious. He was wearing an apron that read ‘The man, The myth, The legend’, topped with the chef's hat Nate and I had bought him for his Christmas gift. He opted for that apron rather than the retro polka-dotted apron we also got him, although I knew he would put it to good use equally as much as the one he wore.

He continued to mix the mince and spices in a bowl for the rissoles as he spoke to me. “She is your mother, Dakota. Christmas should be spent with family and her family is us. We may not be a complete family anymore, but she still deserves to take some time off and spend it with us.”

I sighed as I rested my elbow on the bench in front of me from the bar stool opposite Dad and propped my head up with my hand. “But it never ends well, and you know it. Remember how our dinner ended? She’ll no doubt take this opportunity to attack me for it.”

He sighed and stopped kneading the rissole mix before going over to the sink and washing his hands. “I talked to her about that and she agreed to keep the peace this year. No putting pressure on you or Nate about your degrees or careers. We just have a nice, quiet dinner and catch up.”

I grumbled. “Hopefully, she keeps her end of the deal.”

“She will. I told her she wasn’t welcome if she didn't. Now, will you help me with the pasta salad or are you going to sit there being no help and grumbling the whole day?”

He lifted an eyebrow as he sprinkled flour over the bench.

One side of my lip lifted as I watched him. “I don’t know, watching you in your whole get-up is quite amusing.”

He grinned back as he stepped away from the bench and wiped his hands on the apron causing flour handprints to dust over it. “What? You don’t think I look pretty?”

I laughed and so did Nate as he walked in right at that time. “So pretty, Dad. Though I think the other one would suit you better.”

Dad chuckled. “You think?” He hummed, going back to rolling the rissoles in perfect balls and pressing them flat on a tray. “Maybe next time I’ll have to wear it.”

“Yeah? That’ll be New Year’s, remember?” Nate reminded him with a grin.

Dad had organised a New Year’s party and invited his work friends, bar friends, and even some of our neighbours. He allowed both Nate and I to invite our friends as well.

Dad swore under his breath, making Nate and I chuckle. “Nevermind. I’m not going to be seen by the public in that.”

“Oh, no,” I said, my eyes widened as I shook my head. “Now you have to wear it. You’ve put the words out in the universe so you can’t back out. It’s the rules. You can’t wear the same apron all the time, anyway.”

Nate nodded with me. “It’s true. Can’t mess with the universe.”

Dad pressed a hand to Nate's head and pushed it away playfully. “Get out of here with that and stop encouraging each other. It’s not going to work.”

It was totally working.

“You know how many people would love seeing you in that apron? You would be the life of the party.”

He pointed to me, trying to appear stern but I could see him fighting the rise in his lips. “You, get to work. I can’t do all this myself.”

I saluted him which made him roll his eyes.

I hoped that energy would continue into the night. That we could laugh and joke and actually have a good Christmas together for a change.

I giggled and danced around the kitchen like I was a little girl again, helping Dad prep and cook dinner while his 80s music favourites played in the background. Nate poked his head in a few times right as we began the desserts, trying to steal little tastes of the custard and chocolate but Dad and I always beat him to it with a slap on the hand before shooing him out of the kitchen. It was unfair, I had to admit because Dad and I had been sneaking little tastes as well when we thought the other wasn't looking, but it was fun nonetheless.

Dad was cooking the rissoles while we had just put the mini chocolate lava cakes in the oven and Nate strolled into the kitchen once again, but this time he walked straight to the portable speaker and turned the volume to its maximum just as the first guitar notes of The Clash’s Should I Stay or Should I Go started to play. He started playing the air guitar in time with the strings and pointed to Dad before he shouted over the music, “Come on, Dad, I know you want to.” And then he was back plucking the air like he knew what he was doing, even though he didn’t have a single musical bone in his body.

Dad shook his head at him and I didn’t think he was going to join him but then he tilted his head back and shouted the first ‘woo’ of the song, making me jump and throw my head back in laughter.

He grew up with a family big on music and he once told me he went to his first concert at the age of two. He was definitely a big rock ‘n’ roll head.

He started to bop his head in time with the music as he sang the words while flipping the rissoles. It was only a matter of time before he turned to me, grabbed my hand, and started to spin me around like we were in a spin class. In the blur, I saw Nate dancing next to us and I was in a fit of laughter, almost doubling over with tears in my eyes. It was when the music cut off, followed by the clearing of someone’s throat that I knew the fun had ended and every muscle in my body tensed.

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