Page 94 of Plight
After the re-opening of the garden, our families went back to Mum’s house for a celebratory dinner and drinks. It was such a relief to have successfully completed our project before the deadline. And to see the excited and impressed faces of everyone who visited during the day, made it all worth the effort.
“Jeanette! This potato salad … my word.”
Mum smiled appreciatively at Helen. “It’s good, huh? You can thank Danielle’s roommate, Chris, for that. It’s his recipe.”
“Chris?” Laura piped in. “The hunky guy with guns bigger than the US army? I was meaning to ask about him. He looked familiar.”
I avoided Elliot’s heated stare, which was practically melting the leftover sunscreen from my face, and finished my mouthful before answering her. “Yeah, he plays for the Essendon Football Club.”
“Reeeeeally? I figured he was an athlete … or model. Mm mm.”
Laura’s husband, John, raised his eyebrow, a playful grin creeping in at the corners of his mouth. He didn’t say anything, though, instead blowing on a sausage and handing it to their one-year-old son.
Their son tossed it back.
“Samuel Coben, no! That’s naughty,” John scolded, picking up the sausage from his lap.
He placed it on a plate but it was immediately snatched up by Elliot and offered to Samuel again, the cheeky toddler taking it and shoving it into his mouth.
“Seriously?” John asked, glaring at Elliot.
Elliot shrugged but then held up his hand for a high-five from Samuel. “Give Uncle Lots some skin, buddy.” Uncle Lots?
I couldn’t help but smile. It was so damn cute, which was weird considering I’d never given much thought to having kids of my own. It wasn’t that I was opposed to having them. I just wasn’t inclined to have them either. They were happy, grumpy, indecisive gluttons — massive mindfucks. I mean, why would you want a sausage after it’s been in someone’s lap?
“So, Danielle, are you and Chris a thing?” Laura asked nonchalantly while grabbing the salad dressing.
“LAURA!” Helen forcefully placed down her glass, a look of warning on her face.
“What? It’s a perfectly legitimate question.”
Her shit-eating grin and sideways smirks at Elliot indicated she was up to something, which wasn’t out of the unusual for Laura. Stirring the pot was her forte, something she’d resorted to a lot when we were kids. Unfortunately, Elliot had always taken the bait.
“Define ‘thing’?” I asked, metaphorically swimming around her hook.
“Is he your new fiancé?”
This time, Elliot was the one to slam something down, the abrupt, loud, clang setting a Mexican wave of startled jerks around the table … except for Samuel, who slammed his plastic spoon down animatedly, mimicking his uncle. No one reacted, so he did it again, and again, which made me laugh.
A sea of eyes were suddenly cast my way, wide with anticipation, except for Elliot’s, whose were boring into his sister’s head and hers into his. My God, it was reminiscent of Parker Pizza Friday Nights. The two of them would fight, every time, over stupid crap. Elliot hated it, but I’d always found it amusing, partly because family scuffles weren’t something I ever got to experience, unless they involved my mother, and when they did, she’d always be the victor.
It sucked.
Sitting here in my childhood home, with my mum and my childhood adopted family, I felt happy and ‘mostly’ amused by Laura’s antics. “Is Chris my new fiancé? Nooooo.” I continued to eat, unperturbed by her provocation. “He’s too messy for me. Plus, he’s not a fan of Dudley.”
“Who’s Dudley?”
I forked potato salad into my mouth. “The love of my life.”
Elliot smirked, his tension easing, and forked some salad into his mouth, too.
“You like him, don’t ya, Lots?”
“Oh, I love Pug— I mean Dudley. He makes himself right at home.”
I burst into laughter.
“Who is Dudley?” Laura asked again.
