Chapter 13 #3
“You haven’t met the obnoxious bitch she lived with.”
“Sorry to hear that, kid.” Luke swept a sympathetic look over Eris. “Sharing a place with other people can be tough.”
“A skint girl has to settle.” She realised too late how gruffly she’d blurted it. Her panicked look encountered warm black eyes.
“Been there.”
Eris’ gaze flitted across the room, over the polished furniture, the luxury appliances, the fancy tableware, unable to find anything that suggested that these people had the slightest notion of what poverty was.
“I know what you’re thinking.” Luke nodded good-naturedly. “I wasn’t born into this, you know? Heather was.” He put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “I was born in a slum in Nigeria. We were poorer than you could imagine, my ma and I. Believe me, love: I know hardship. No one’s judging you.”
‘Told you,’ Denny mouthed at her from behind a sip of water.
Eris looked at the man with a new respect. “How did you get here?”
Luke poured himself a glass of wine. “An Englishman fell in love with my ma. They got married when I was eight. He brought us to London, gave us a big, comfy home, sent me to good schools…”
“You kept your Nigerian name?”
“Dad took my ma’s surname to honour our heritage. I’m proud I was able to pass it on to my daughter, since she spit all my black genes back at me.” He laughed, but Denny didn’t.
Heather elbowed him. “Remember when we went to Lagos with her?”
A hearty chortle shook Luke’s chest. “The airport security didn’t believe she was mine until they saw you. ‘Sir, you forgot to melanate your baby!’ Feels like yesterday.”
Denny was far from amused. She was looking at her father with a sadness that Eris couldn’t place. Her complexion was nowhere close to Luke’s, but not as pale as Heather’s or Eris’ either. There was a tawny glow to it, as if she spent every day soaking up sunlight.
“We got her this beautiful headwrap,” said Heather. “She looked like a little pineapple. There are photos somewhere. Oh, she was so cute…”
“No photos!” Denny piped up. “Can you please spare me this humiliation?”
“I want to see them!” Eris chimed in.
“Whose side are you on?!”
A collective laugh spread around the table.
The atmosphere was way more familiar and enjoyable than Eris had anticipated.
She didn’t feel too much like an intruder despite Denny and her parents being very close-knit.
For being her first experience as a guest, sitting at a civilised table with a home-cooked meal and carrying out a social conversation, she wasn’t doing so bad.
She reached for her wine glass, finding it empty. Denny filled it for her.
“You two seem to be attached at the hip already,” Luke commented, watching them intently.
“We bonded pretty fast,” Denny chirped. Eris wasn’t sure if it was ironic or not.
“No, we didn’t.”
“We did!”
“I couldn’t stand you for like the whole first week.”
“I could tell,” Denny tittered. “But here we are now!”
It still felt too good to be true. One minute Eris was writhing in agony on a filthy pavement, and now she was sitting in these people’s home, eating their delicious food, drinking their expensive wine, welcomed like one of their own just because Denny had taken a shine to her for reasons that Eris would never fully comprehend.
Here we are indeed.
“Are you a ladies lady, too?” asked Luke, causing both his wife and daughter to gasp.
“Luke!”
“Dad!”
“I swing both ways,” Eris had no problem answering.
“I would’ve loved to have a child to discuss boys with,” said Heather dreamily.
“Fair price to pay for not having to worry about teen pregnancy,” said Luke.
“Oh, that’s for sure.”
Eris had never told her parents she was bisexual.
She was convinced it wouldn’t have been an issue, anyway: they hadn’t cared about her enough to be concerned with her sexuality.
She would’ve told Micah when she’d kissed her first girl, she knew he’d have been happy for her, but he’d already been gone for years when that had happened.
“Anyone fancy apple pie?” Heather enquired while Luke collected the empty plates.
Eris was full, but couldn’t say no to dessert, nor could she offend Luke by declining a taste of his fifteen-year-old Macallan. As the whisky burned her throat, she mentally calculated that she’d just blown twenty quid in just one shot. That awareness forbade her to accept a second round.
She wished she could show old Eris a glimpse of this future.
* * *
“I hope it wasn’t too much,” said Denny when they left.
After the wine and the whisky, Eris’ head was swimming in an uncontrolled stream of thoughts and feelings.
“It was alright.” She tried to stabilise the light sway in her gait by anchoring an arm around Denny. Terrible decision. “I like them.”
“You do?”
“Why so surprised?”
“Their energy can be… stifling.”
“A little. But in a good way. You’re lucky to have them.”
“I am.” Denny tucked under her arm; warm lips brushed against Eris’ temple, causing her to melt into a shit-eating grin. “Not just to have them.”
Alright, alright. Eris closed her eyes with a soft hum. I’m lucky, too.