Don't Get Caught

Chapter 12 - Ariel

Traditional Sunday lunch followed Sunday morning delights.

Hasmita and I were invited over to Leah and Christopher's house for a meal later that day. It was my job to bring dessert so I went straight from Danny's to the local supermarket to buy ingredients, then headed back home to bake an apple crumble. I didn't bake through choice, but I always made an effort when it came to Leah, and she was always polite about my cooking. This led to a never-ending cycle of me having to cook and everyone else having to endure it.

"How was the barbecue?" Hasmita asked as she poured the wine. She had chosen an unusual outfit for the occasion: a bottle green trouser suit but with what appeared to be nothing but a bra underneath the jacket that cinched in at her waist.

"Eventful," I admitted, drawing my eyes away from her attire.

Leah had read my lips and raised an eyebrow at me. "Don't tell me—you hooked up with someone?"

I followed her through to the living room. "Perhaps." I bit back the 'don't judge me' preface to my answer.

Hasmita followed close behind. "Did you say yes?"

"I said perhaps." I took the wine.

"She said yes," Leah corrected me.

Christopher left us to check on dinner, but not before an obvious eye-roll.

"Don't judge me, but it was Danny," I confessed.

"Shit," Hasmita said on an out-breath. "I thought we were done with him."

I shrugged. "He's loosened up ... a little."

Leah and Hasmita had matching looks of disappointment: raised eyebrows, pouting lips, folded arms. Years of living together had done that to them. Leah, however, sported jogging bottoms and a Jurassic Park t-shirt. Had I missed the memo about the crazy dress-code? Or was this our clothes matching our relationship statuses? What did my jeans and orange blouse say about mine?

I snapped back to our conversation, realising I needed to defend myself. "I don't know why you have such an issue with him. He plays piano," I added pathetically as if that explained it. I laughed at myself.

Hasmita moved closer to me, her hand still on her hip. "Don't you remember? You hated being with him. He drove you mad. He messed with your head. What did he ever do for you?" She turned from me. "Leah, tell her."

Our friend just shook her head, not wanting to get involved; pretending that as we weren't signing, she couldn't follow what we were saying.

I made sure to sign my response. "He only messed with my head because I let him. He did nothing wrong. He just wanted sex—never pretended he didn't."

"You're letting him use you. You're better than that," Hasmita cut in with a shrug.

"It will be different this time. He was more... open yesterday. Maybe whatever was going on with him has passed. And anyway, I won't take it this time. I'm going to find out who he is, and what - or who - he's running from."

"And what if you don't like what you find?" Leah pointed out.

Our argument continued as we moved from the living room to the dining table and over dinner until finally Christopher had enough of my love-life and forced a change of subject. I really wanted to like him; he was making Leah happy. But he didn't like Hasmita and me. Mostly Hasmita given I'd been out of action with my bastard cancer. As soon as was acceptable, Christopher got Leah out of their flat and in with him. He found us loud and rude and bad influences. We drank too much, wore inappropriate clothing for women our age (today's odd choice no exception) and didn't take life seriously enough. I realised with a jolt that was fairly close to Danny's assessment of me. Why was it alright for Danny to think that but not Christopher? Well, Christopher was dull. It was lucky Leah couldn't hear him all the time; his anecdotes could put you to sleep. He worked for the local council and many of his stories involved sewage or illegal parking.