Love with a Bang

10. Lachlan

Everything was going perfect. Aida and I were talking again. The little dimple on the left side of her face, appearing more often, the more I made her laugh. I've developed an addiction to white vanilla and peach shower gel. Then I went and opened my big mouth. At the time, I didn't understand what she was so upset about. It didn't seem like that big of a deal. When I explained what happened to my sisters, one of them stormed away, slamming every door possible. The other picked up the nearest object, a bamboo vase, and hit me in the head with it. Not hard, because I'm still here, but hard enough to know I definitely fucked up. Once they both calmed down enough to guarantee no more bodily harm, they listed maybe fifty reasons of how I'd fucked up, as only women can do. Male brains are too small to even think of that many hypotheticals. I'm a prime example of that. However when listed out for me, on coloured sticky notes, pink being the worst offences, yellow being the least, I can see how I may have made a mistake by not telling her earlier. In my defence, I did try. The night I found out about Polly, I was about to tell her but the parrot called and Aida went running. I was too shocked about the parrot revelation, I completely forgot what I was going to say. The important thing is I need to make it right.

I knock on the door of the crochet meeting, far more terrified than I should be. They are just little old women...wielding needles. One of the ladies peers through the crack in the door she just opened, looks me up and down and scoffs. "Took ya long enough, get in!". She doesn't seem like a woman who wants to argue, so I follow her instruction, and sit stiffly in the chair, sitting in the middle of the circle. "We've had this chair here every evening waiting for you to come to your senses. It's been such a pain. I can't see when Rose changes stitches." It's such a petulant complaint, and I struggle to hold in my laugh. I look around at the ladies here. They are all over 60, with the exception of one woman, who isn't here tonight, because of me. They've left her chair empty, with one of the little crochet 'mistakes' sitting in her place. I rub my hands together, warming myself up. Prepping to ask these ladies for their help. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't realise she would be so upset...". Tiny balls of wool hit me from various angles. It takes me a minute to realise what's happening. They are booing and pelting me with balls of wool. By the time they've all landed, I'm in a spider web of wool, with no hope of freedom until one of them reels their skein back in. "Listen here boy, I may have been friends with your grandmother, God rest her soul, but that doesn't mean the sun shines out of your ass okay? Aida is the pride and joy of our group. She's like another granddaughter to us." They all nod, blessing themselves at the mention of my grandmother. It's nice to know she still had her people around her when we stopped visiting as much. They all remind me of her in their own way and somehow, I know they'll fight tooth and nail for me to get Aida back. Knowing that, I launch into my plan. "Ladies, I need your help"

Tonight is the night. The fundraiser dance starts in two hours. I'm in a full three piece suit while finishing off the last of the checklist I was given by Gladys earlier this morning. Once the last fairy light is pinned to the barn wall, I turn to survey the place. This is going to be a great event. Whether my plan works or not, that's a different story. I have kind of hijacked the event. It's still a fundraiser to get the crochet grannies to Medjugorje on their religious pilgrimage, but most of the people attending are hoping Millie can convince Aida to come to the dance, where I can deliver my very public apology. Gladys has been doing a lot of reading lately. Apparently grovelling is all the range. I'm nervous. I've sweat through my shirt already. I brought a spare in case anything happened when I was setting the place up, but it looks like I'm going to need it anyway, just not for the reason I thought. The music starts playing low, a mix of older songs and newer, something for everybody. The plates of sandwiches, egg salad, ham and cheese, roast chicken and stuffing and some sandwich spread that looks a bit like vomit. As if the people can sense the food, the barn starts filling up, the sound of chatter brightening up the place. I'm nervously pacing in the corner when Gladys comes over. "Are you not going to ask a lady to dance?". I look at her and can't help but smile. She reminds me of my grandmother. She wears a similar perfume and has her nails painted the same mauve colour and has the exact same set of clip on pearl earrings. I bow from the waist, as if she were royalty, sticking my hand out to grab hers. We glide onto the dancefloor. Gladys winks at me. We take off around the floor, the panic over seeing Aida subsiding slightly as I try not to trample Gladys' feet.