Firelight flickers across my face as I turn each parcel with slow attention.
Steam fogs upward when I peel the wrappers back.
The potato skin is gently crisped at the edges, fluffy and tender on the inside.
When they’ve cooled a little, I add a curl of butter and a dollop of sour cream to each.
That first bite is creamy and warm on my tongue.
So deeply satisfying.
“Yum,” Amos says with his mouth full. “That’s a damn good potato.”
“Bush tucker,” I smile. “With a city boy twist.”
“You’re starting to speak and sit differently,” he smiles. “It’s kinda cute.”
I straighten, bringing my knees closer together.
“Man-spread those legs, country boy. I think it’s hot.”
I slump again.
“And I dare you not to shave til we get home,” he winks. “Marco the lumber jack.”
“Only if you do it too,” I grin.
Pulling the swiss army knife from my pocket, I flip the blade open.
Did we remember to bring a chopping board?
“When did I start dating Macgyver?” Amos laughs.
“It’s for the melon,” I explain.
But in the back of my mind, I know the truth.
This knife is an ally of sorts.
Because what if dad takes a swing at him, not just me?
I’ll protect you if I have to.
Only a stone’s throw from here, darkness perches on the edge of a stool.
Beer on his breath, no doubt.
The slot machine, his one true love.
Still several hours to go before the pub closes its doors.
Mum will be all alone in the house.
Maybe we should… what if we went to get her now?
No.
Fear won’t steal this moment.
