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“What can I get you?”
“The usual,” we chorus.
“Okay, coming right up.” Then he turns on his heel and goes back to the counter.
“Three, two, one . . .” I count, making both of my siblings snort.
“Martha, three usuals for the Jones kids,” Ed shouts to his wife, always holed up out back.
“Stop shouting, you old goat. And come to the kitchen if you have something to say,” she replies as loud as him, for the whole pub to hear.
We can’t stop ourselves from laughing. The more we laugh and the more we look at each other the louder our laughter becomes, until our eyes are full of tears. I take a napkin from the table to wipe my face, and then watch as my sisters do the same.
“I’m glad we came here,” Melanie says.
“Me too,” I agree.
“Show us our nieces,” I ask Rebecca, since that’s another thing that usually gives me peace.
Melanie and I scoot closer to her, and between our ‘aws’ and ‘ohs‘, she shows us the weekly pictures taken in funnier, cooler, and sweeter times.
I don’t think about what I’m missing in my life, instead concentrating on my sister and her family’s happiness, and on how grateful I am to be part of it.
“Here you go guys,” says Ed, while placing the plates with our orders in front of us.
“Thank you.”
We dig into our food, and for a few minutes we don’t speak, too busy enjoying ourselves.
Melanie’s the first to break the silence.
“Should I get married?”
At that moment, I’m taking a sip of my drink and I nearly choke on it, but to save myself, I spit water everywhere instead.
Rebecca, who’s usually more contained than us, clears her voice before asking what I’m thinking.
“What?”
“Yeah, like, having a husband and kids.”
“Did you meet someone?”
“No,” she says, nearly offended. “But if my career is going to shit, maybe I can do better as a mum.”
I’ve never seen Melanie as the mum type. She’s a wonderful sister but she’s not very tactful, and she’s not someone who’s willing to compromise. She’s more like a bulldozer, mowing everything down that blocks her path.
I’m so similar to her, and I applied her ways more than once to my school life and the bullying I suffered. I have scars, but they’re far less than other people’s, I’m aware of that. Because I’ve got a lovely family, and once upon a time I had a protector.
“What’s wrong?” Melanie asks.
I must have shown my troubles on my face when my mind went back to Gael.
“Gael.” My mouth opens before I can stop it.
“What about him?” Melanie asks, confused.
“He’s back.”
