Bittersweet Moments

19 | Butterscotch Bars

19 | Butterscotch Bars

I didn't know which was worse – Melanie to my right or Heron on my left.

Elvia shifted side to side, under the weight of my body. I squirmed, too, because I knew I was suffocating her with my fats and inner sugars. She had never complained though, but I had not allowed myself to set my full weight on her for the last half hour. I couldn't live with the fact that she was sore with me on my lap.

"That's it, I don't want to kill you," I stood up inside them moving van, startling the others, "I'm going to sit on the floor."

We were all on our way to a party venue, which had required Sweet Moments' catering service. That was a rare offer there, but I knew our client was paying good money. And here we were, squeezed at the back of Douglas' van, along with boxes of cake, desserts and other sweets. Not to mention, there was meat and pasta, and we had to make sure the food didn't fall down to their dooms.

Here I was, too, sat on Elvia's lap and squeezed between two of my coworkers. Poor Voira was on the floor, because she was the only one who was small enough. To make her situation worse, she was holding upright the box of the three-decker cake.

"No," Elvia hooked her arms around my waist to keep me from lurching forwards. "I'm fine, okay? You're just heavier than I thought you were." I couldn't blame her for underestimating my weight. I was a lanky figure, but somehow, I was as heavy as the amount of food I ate every day.

The van stopped abruptly, throwing everyone to the front. I shifted again, wishing I had just stayed behind and helped run the shop with Reg. I've had enough of parties after all. But of course my brain had to choose this trip for no apparent reason.

The terrain ran roughly now and we were going through twists and turns. Once more, the van lurched – and so did my stomach.

Melanie cursed, tearing her eyes from her phone, "Is the road a forest, or does Doug even have a license?" She stood up, balancing herself to peek at the driver's side. Our general line of view was blocked by the food, since Mom believed it was more of a priority than us.

I heard Voira's faint whimper as Mel's foot collided with her cheek. Elvia, as the real adult among us, was trying to pull Mel down by her shirt with her other hand. Heron busied himself with looking out the window. My legs strained.

Mel wasn't anywhere near sitting. Both her legs were propped up on the seat and she was crouching, "Doug! Stop your murder mission! We're going to die here, you! Shook, blended and stirred!" I cringed; she had shouted that at the top of her lungs.

We waited for a response. And it was just a set of incoherent words, followed by a blast of heavy metal music. As usual, Mom was playing deaf to our pleas.

"You stop that!" Mel banged her fist to the window, so hard I wasn't surprised it didn't shatter. "No one wants to hear your pterodactyl rock and roll!"

"That wasn't his music," I informed Melanie, "That was Mom's. She plays them all the time."

"The hell, Raquel!" she yelled next. Receiving no reply, she sat back down, huffing. I felt sorry for Voira, who now had her curls in a mess around her face. I reached out one hand and tucked a piece away from her eyes. Voira muttered a small thanks.

Mel wasn't speaking now. She sulked, facing the window and if I could read her mind, she would probably be cursing Mom's music taste. Mel was always reckless, but she didn't hurt anyone with her attitude. She just wanted to be intimidating to avoid people, just like one side of me. In a way, I understood.