Page 15 of Plunge

We continue working in silence, both of us responding to the pressure to get things done so we can move on to a more fun, community project. “Do you need to change or do you want to come with me straight to Hunter’s place?” Archer starts closing up a few hours later, slamming shut his computer and locking the filing cabinet in one practiced motion.

“I guess we can go right there…” I’m not wearing the most comfortable clothes in the world to be assembling furniture, but at least it’s not a full skirt suit and heels. The benefits of a business casual office are starting to grow on me.

We make our way to his brother’s townhouse and walk in through the unlocked front door. I’d forgotten what it’s like to live in a place where people don’t lock their doors. When I’m greeted by a pair of hens I jump back and press myself against the wall, stunned.

“Oh, no worries,” Archer says, stooping to pet the birds. He reaches into his pocket and hands them some raisins, which they delightedly peck from his hand. “These are Hunter’s apology chickens.” I raise a brow at him and draw back my head in confusion, and Archer explains that Hunter had gotten the chickens for Abigail as a way to demonstrate his commitment to her during a time when he used to be so obsessed with his lab work he never considered other people or animals.

The Crawford family has always struck me as so different from my own. A group of people who obviously all care about each other, despite the eccentricities of all of them. They had a stay-home parent growing up, too, but Daniel Crawford never seemed forlorn about that choice like my mom did. I guess it’s different when your spouse is actually in town and participates in the marriage. I think my dad was only ever home a few days each month, and then it was more like having a house guest for the weekend than a parent.

Indigo hollers from upstairs and we make our way up the steps. Abigail and Hunter have made a hallways between the two halves of a duplex. One half of the downstairs evidently belongs to the chickens, computer equipment, and a pretty intense home gym, but upstairs it all looks like one cohesive home.

Diana and Indigo are waist deep in packages of diapers and baby socks, sorting things by size. “My mom is getting your mom and they’ll be here any minute,” Diana says, pausing to smile at a green onesie with a rabbit drawn on the chest. Since when is she sentimental about baby clothes?

I nod and look around, feeling way out of my element. “Give me a task,” I say. “But I’ll need very specific instructions.”

Indigo steps away from the diapers and says she’s going to get started with the food. I’m directed to organize the diapers by size and line them up in a hanging basket thing by a changing table, which I’m supposed to stock with the wipes and lotions and diaper cream.

I set about the work, tuning out the bustle around me, until I look up and realize a room full of women is staring at me. “What?”

Indigo puts her hands on her hips, and taps her toe. “I told you. She’s got dusty old cobwebs down there. She probably doesn’t even remember how to orgasm.”

“Indigo! What the hell?” My mother is sitting right there, but she starts laughing. I’m not sure if it’s at my mortified expression or the brazen way Indigo just brought up my non-existent sex life. I see that everyone has a drink in their hand and I guess I missed the announcement that we were stopping work for girl talk.

“Who has time to date? I’m not here on vacation, you know.” I gesture toward my mom, who scowls.

“I’m getting much cleaner,” she says. Everyone bites their lip, trying to figure out what she means. Mom is speaking in sentences now, but the word that comes out is often not the one she intends. There’s still some misfiring in her brain. “Cleaner,” she repeats. “I’m cleaner every day!”

“Better?” Mom nods, looking frustrated. “It’s true,” I reassure her. “You’re doing great.”

I start to think maybe I imagined them all bursting in and asking me about my sex life, but Indigo persists. “So you’re saying you do remember how to orgasm?” My eyes go wide and I drop the pack of diapers I’m holding.

“That settles it then,” Indigo announces, whipping out her phone. She starts tapping away as Diana looks over her shoulder, encouragingly.

Indigo snaps a picture of me with my mouth hanging open.

“Settles what? What are you doing over there?”

“I’m creating an online dating profile for you, obviously.” Diana nods and my mother stands up to look at the screen, smiling. Everyone is conspiring against me as I stand here sorting diapers with pictures of vehicles and baby animals on the front.

“Are you people insane? Are you really this bored? I have no time for a relationship right now.” I gesture at my mother’s cane, but nobody seems to listen to me. They all want to offer input on who I should try to date.

Indigo grins triumphantly. “You’ve already got a match!”

“Nope,” I say, shaking my head. I actually stomp my foot. This is not what I intended to do with my time home in Oak Creek. “Absolutely not. Nope.”

“Whoops,” Indigo says and shrugs. “You’re going to dinner with him in Philly tomorrow at six.”

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