Page 140 of Coach
That’s when I remembered we’d brought backup food, thank God.
Mike broke the silence. “So, um, what’s this beautiful dish called?”
Mrs. H straightened. “Fitchy-meat.”
Omar let out a strangled noise. “You’re joking.”
“Not a bit,” she said proudly. “It’s an old dish withlayers of seasoned meats in aspic.”
Shane leaned in and whispered, “Is it an old recipe, or is that actual dish old?”
I had to cover my mouth.
Dane called from the kids’ table, “Can confirm—the meat’s still moving.”
“I think it just flicked me the bird,” Matty added.
“It’s flopping more than Dane in his fireman outfit.” Sisi beamed.
Laughter erupted.
Jeremiah mouthed, “Help me,” his eyes wide.
And with that, Mrs. H raised her spoon like a battle cry. “Dig in, loves. No one leaves hungry.”
“This isn’t . . . terrible,” I heard Dane mutter to Patrick. “Once you get past the wiggly gel around the meat, the actual stuff inside is kind of good.”
“I bet the Pizza Shack is still delivering,” was his only reply.
The meal ambled forward, with more champagne and wine going down than Scottish meat, the gang getting drunker with each passing moment. Even Jeremiah surrendered to the season, a couple of tall flutes of champagne painting a glossy sheen to his eyes and planting an adorable grin on his face.
Mrs. H told stories about Christmases past, none of which occurred in Scotland because, honestly, she wasn’t from there and had never even visited. Still,she regaled us with tales of men and women who celebrated their holiday cheer with odd traditions and highland songs. When she tried to sing one, a chorus of groans drowned her out, and Sisi barked, “Just sing YMCA, do the hand motions, and be done with this.”
Mrs. H, never one to miss a beat, threw her hands in the air, making the biggest Y the old woman’s arms could form. Matty jumped to his feet and formed an M beside her.
“Jeremiah, are you gay or what? We need a C, stat.”
Our new recruit blinked a few times before stumbling to his feet and tossing his arms out to form his letter.
By the time Omar finished the song with his A, both the adult and kids’ tables were a riot of off-key notes and worse hand gestures.
“That might be the least Christmas thing I’ve ever seen,” Shane said, not realizing he’d spoken loud enough for everyone to hear.
Sisi homed in. “I’ll have you know, Mr. Brick Wall, any song that makes people laugh and feel good is a holiday song. If you’re not careful, we’ll break out in a rendition of the Gay National Anthem right here, right now.”
Jeremiah—sweet, unsuspecting Jeremiah—fell into the bear pit.
“Gay National Anthem? I didn’t know we had an anthem.”
Sisi gasped. Omar, nearby, mirrored her pearl-clutching gesture. Matty feigned a fainting spell.
“What?” Jeremiah was baffled.
“Class!” Sisi clinked a fork on the nearest glass she could reach. “Class, attention. We have a student who needs a lesson. In the key of G now, please.”
One off-key chorus of “It’s Raining Men”later, dinner had lost all semblance of order or form, Mrs. H was howling from the kitchen, and even Shane’s eyes were filled with tears of drunken laughter. When Sisi reached the line that included “absolutely soaking wet,” she grabbed a water glass off the table and threw its contents all over Jeremiah.
He leaped up, his chair tumbling behind him.
