10. No. 37 Be more social
ten
August
I’m pretty sure I’ve made a mistake when Bea and I get to my parents’ front door.
I left Bea’s place to shower and change, take Darcy for a walk, and make the stuffing for today’s roast dinner, then I collected her on my way through.
But showing up together like this makes it looks like I’m bringing her to family dinner.
Like a date. It’s not a date. I may not be Casanova, but I’d know not to bring a woman to my parents’ house on a first date.
But I feel awkward and hot even though I’m just in a t-shirt over my jeans. That tracks for a date.
Bea looks pretty in a summer dress, pale pink with yellow flowers all over it, tiny little straps, fitted like a dream around her tits and over her waist but loose and flowing from her hips to her knees.
Half of her pink hair is knotted high on top of her head and the lower half flows down past her shoulders in waves.
She’s holding a bouquet of flowers I can only assume is from the florist in the village as the mini supermarket wouldn’t have anything as nice.
“You didn’t have to bring anything,” I mumble, balancing the heavy dish of stuffing and Darcy’s lead.
“Please,” she scoffs. “Like I’m going to turn up empty handed.”
I open the front door and for the first time think I probably should have warned my mum and dad Bea was coming. I’m sure it’ll be fine, they’re a more the merrier kind of people.
“Hey, it’s me,” I call into the house. There’s a hum of hustle and bustle coming from the kitchen, and I lead the way to where my family is preparing lunch.
“August!” Mum beams brightly and holds her arms out for me to hug her hello. I unclip Darcy’s lead and put the dish of stuffing down on the counter. “Oh,” Mum says, dropping her arms and blinking at the pink haired beauty behind me. “Hello.”
“Hi,” Bea says, waving a hand. “These uh…these are for you.” She steps forward holding the bouquet out to my mother, who still looks back with shellshock.
“You brought a girl to dinner?” Mum turns to me with an excited smile and the rest of the room falls silent, everyone else seeming to realise we have company.
“No, Mum, not like—”
“Bea!” Joanie beams, practically skipping over and wrapping her into a hug.
Jesus, the promise of nice coffee really does change my sister’s personality.
The flowers Mum failed to relieve Bea of get squished between them and the sound of the cellophane crinkling is loud.
“You’re here with my brother?” Joanie pulls what can only be described as a grimace and I have an uncontrollable urge to pinch her, so I do.
“Hey!” Joanie yelps, jumping as I pinch the sensitive skin of her underarm. “Fuck off, dickhead.”
“Language!” Mum scolds, gesturing at Bea in a way that says don’t embarrass us in front of the guest.
Joanie pokes her tongue out at me, and I return it because our sibling dispute resolution got stuck somewhere in the late 2000s. Mum finally takes the flowers from Bea, ushering her further into the kitchen and making her sit at the table.
“Well, this is a nice surprise,” Mum says, unwrapping the flowers and snipping the ends off the stems. “August didn’t tell us he’d be bringing someone.”
Bea blanches. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I thought you knew I’d be coming.”
“Ah, don’t worry about that,” my dad pipes up from where he’d been watching our entrance from the corner of the room. “Pip cooks enough to feed the whole of Port Doone, one more at the table will be welcome.”
Mum rolls her eyes but smiles at my dad as Joanie takes over arranging the flowers in a vase.
They look alike, my mum and sister. They have dark, wavy hair but whereas my fifty-eight-year-old mother is still free of greys, Joanie has two thick sections that have gone completely grey, framing her face.
She dyed them for a while but now it’s like her signature look.
I’ve always thought it looks seriously cool, but I would never tell her that.
“Well, thank you for letting me join you,” Bea says sweetly. She perches on her chair, back straight and hands on her lap under the table, looking uncomfortable, and I find myself wanting to help her relax.
“Would you like a drink?” I ask Bea, quietly.
The bright smile she gives me does something weird to my chest. “That would be great, thank you.”
“Wine?”
The smile drops and she swallows hard, shaking her head and it makes me smile, actually fucking smile. “I think I’ll stick to soft drinks today.”
“Good call,” I agree with a smirk that feels out of place but kind of good. “We’ve got Coke, lemonade, or this fancy watermelon shit Mum likes.”
“Hey,” Mum whines. “My watermelon coolers are refreshing, not shit. And stop swearing in front of our nice guest, she’ll think you’re all heathens.”
“Fancy watermelon shit sounds great,” Bea says with amusement.
Mum starts toward the fridge, but I get there first. “I’ve got it,” I say rather gruffly, and she gives me a look like she knows something I don’t. Then she shares that look with Joanie, who smiles wickedly and I’m not sure I like what’s happening.
The front door slams shut as I’m passing Bea her drink, complete with ice and a little slice of lime because I was feeling fancy, not because I thought it would make her smile.
Connor comes in holding a plate with a huge cake on top.
He stops in the doorway, staring at Bea, the cake wobbling slightly, and puffs a breath upward to dislodge his ridiculous hair from his eyes.
“Oh hey, my boss is here,” he says.
“Yeah, so be on your best behaviour,” I grumble at him.
“Psst,” he scoffs. “It’s my day off.”
“Hi, Con,” Bea greets the kid with a warm affection.
“Hey, BB.” He grins at her.
“BB?” My dad asks.
“Yeah, Boss Bea,” Connor says, blowing his hair out of his eyes again. “Anyone gonna take this cake off my hands, it’s heavy as fuck.”
“Language!” Dad scolds.
“What do you think we’re going to do with it?” Joanie asks. “Put it on the counter, you little shit.”
“Language!” Mum and Dad say at the same time and Bea snorts a laugh, trying to cover it behind her hand.
“Sorry,” I say, sitting in the chair next to her. “It gets a little crazy in here.”
Her cheeks are pushed high and round with the force of her smile, blue eyes sparkling as she bumps me with her shoulder, the skin of her arm brushing mine has my stomach doing a flip. “I kind of love it.”
You’re welcome any time. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say but I stop myself.
It would be weird, right? I’m just doing her a solid because it was clear she was feeling a little lonely and her mum bailed on her and her ex with the stupid abs is sending pictures of his junk to his current girlfriend.
I was just being neighbourly. Anyone would have invited her over.
But it’s a one-time thing, there’s no way I can look at that face across the table each week and not start having feelings I certainly don’t want to be having. Never again.
“Good,” I say instead.
The afternoon rolls on in the way it usually does; my parents stop caring about the cursing in front of their guest, and Joanie, Connor, and I are apparently great entertainment if Bea’s quiet laughter at our constant bickering is anything to go by.
Dad asks Bea if Connor’s kept out of trouble at work, and Connor rolls his eyes in the way moody teenagers have perfected.
When Bea gushes about how great my nephew has been, I can’t help but feel a bolt of pride through my chest. Hearing someone outside of the family say nice things about him is oddly emotional.
Connor squirms uncomfortably at all the praise, and Joanie smacks a wet kiss on his cheek.
“Gross,” Connor says, wiping his cheek.
“I’m proud of my boy,” Joanie pouts, pinching where her lips had just left a lipstick mark.
“Get off.” He shrugs her off, but he’s smirking, proud of himself.
“Bea, I hear you’ve moved from London?” Dad asks.
Bea puts her hand over her mouth as she chews her roast beef, nodding. When she swallows, she smiles kindly and clears her throat. “Uh, yeah. I’m a Londoner, born and raised.”
I feel I’ve done a good job of hiding the disgust on my face until Joanie kicks me under the table. Everyone turns to me when I grunt in pain; my sister always manages to find the most painful spots.
“August?” Mum asks, wide eyed.
“Love London,” I croak. “Hear it’s…busy.” I hate London, at least I’m pretty sure I would, but it’s where everyone always wanted to go. To run off to and leave everyone else behind. Because London’s exciting, August. You should try it, August.
“Uh yeah, definitely busy,” Bea agrees.
“And have you left family behind?” Dad asks, not covering his mouth as he speaks with it full.
“Yeah, my mum is still in the city.” Bea looks down at her plate, pushing vegetables around.
“I bet she’s sad you’ve moved so far away,” Mum adds, sadly.
Bea doesn’t answer right away but eventually nods with a tight smile.
“And your father?” Dad asks.
“Jeesh, Dad,” Joanie mutters.
“What?”
“You think maybe she didn’t mention him for a reason?” Joanie speaks out of the side of her mouth like she’s hiding the words from Bea even though we can all hear.
“It’s okay,” Bea laughs. “I don’t have a relationship with my father.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Mum says sympathetically.
Bea shrugs. “It’s all good.”
“Hell yeah, no dads club!” Connor holds his hand up to Bea and she slaps her palm to his with a giggle.
“Connor!” Joanie shrieks, incensed and smacking the back of her hand against his shoulder. But we’re all laughing, even Joanie.