Sort of Deadly

6 - Urgh, Merry My Foot

Awkward.

That’s the word which comes to mind when I think back on that dinner.

It was going fine initially, I guess. Mr. Om hadn’t been able to make it. So it was me who had to give Es a stern look every time she confused her knife with her fork (she calls it a Pasta Trident). She loves eating, sure. She just doesn’t know how to eat. Once in between she choked on a lamb-chop and Mar had to perform the Heimlich Maneuver on her. It’s the first thing they teach you if you work in a restaurant – at least that’s what I heard.

Sometimes I wonder if Es has camel-genes now that she’s human. Some sort of mutation, I don’t know. Camels can drink up to 20 gallons of water when it’s available, but their hump is entirely fat. How long before our Es starts stocking up on calories and develops a hump of her own?

Additionally, my parents kept making it more awkward by, well, being my parents. Pops barely ever says anything, unless he has to repeat something someone else said or make a nonsensical pun, but Momma. Oh, lord, Momma can’t let people be.

'So,' she said to Es as the latter was slurping her fifth bowl of sweetcorn soup, 'tell us about your hobbies, honey.’

Es looked up from her bowl, a solitary corn pasted on her chin. 'I wike to catch rainbows.’

Momma cast me a glance that I interpreted as: It’s that bad, huh?

‘Oh, oh,' Es hissed (said) excitedly. ‘I looobe to fly in circles. It’s so gigglydoo!’

This time it was Marra's turn to choke on his lamb chop. Since I was closest to him, I was the one who administered the Heimlich Maneuver. Meanwhile, Aar coughed discreetly.

'I mean, not fly,' Es corrected, catching our drift a tad too late. ‘Run. Run in circles. I looobe to run in circles.’

Nice save (for her, anyway).

'That's great, hon!’ Momma exclaimed.

‘Yes, great,' a voice echoed. You can probably guess who this was.

‘Anything else you looove to do?’ Momma pushed.

‘Looobe,' Aar interjected.

‘Same thing,' Momma said.

‘Different for her,' Aar said.

‘Okay. Is there anything else you looobe to do?’

She sure looobes to say stuff she’s been told a billion times she mustn’t say, I thought. I could see Es was opening her mouth to drop another stone-bomb on us (ring a bell?), so I raised an intimidating brow to zip her up – and that was when, I think, the bell rang.

‘Thank Count Drac,' I heard Mar whisper beside me. I chuckled lightly.

Momma got up to see who was at the door, but that didn’t stop Es from answering her question. ‘I wike to sing too.’

Yes. We know, Es. We know. We’ve had our ears subject to that torture countless times.

Heartbeats later, Momma was back with one of our new neighbors. What do I call her? Uhhh . . . let’s see . . . Niffy? Yes, Niffy. What’s there in a name anyway?

Point is, I didn’t like her from the moment I laid eyes on her.

She looked about the same age as me, which she was – twelve – but she was taller, and she was dressed in an egregiously beautiful red gown. Worst part about her outfit? There were brown Polka dots sprinkled throughout its fabric, which of course made my Pops fall in love with her forthwith.

My eyes traced all over her, but mostly they were absorbed by her face. That beaming, sparkling, female-Edward-Cullen face. That proportionate nose leading to those puffy lips.

Then I tore them away from her and looked over at Aar, only to find his jaw hanging approximately ten feet below his chin. I opened my mouth to say something, then realized it was already open, and not a word was willing to come out.

‘Everyone, this is Niffy,' Momma announced, as if the poor beaming girl couldn’t speak for herself. ‘Her parents had a lot of unpacking to do, so she’ll be the only fresh member joining us tonight.’

Good. She’s enough alone.

'Niffy, why don’t you take a seat?’ Momma offered. ‘Es here was about to sing for us-'

‘I was?’ the oblivious spirit – sorry, former spirit –  asked, dropping a huge scoop of Cassata into her half-filled bowl and sending a massive spray of soup towards my general direction.

‘What the-?’ I drew back, almost tripping over my chair. ‘This is so hot, how have you even been drinking this?’

That confirms it. Momma definitely has moth/bat/owl ears. How else could she have heard Es's statement of liking – pardon, wiking – music?

See leapt onto my lap and started licking the chowder off of me. Splendid. Now I have dog saliva covering me, too. I struggled to get the beagle off.

If I knew I was never going to be able to see you again, doggo, I’d have let you lick me for as long as you wanted.

‘-and more the merrier,' Momma finished, ignoring me altogether like the ideal mother she is.

No, Momma, I thought as I saw Pops shaking hands with the new girl, obviously impressed by the brown Polka dots. More the not merrier.

Naturally Niffy sat right next to me.

I presumed I must say something, just for the sake of being polite, so I decided to begin with an amiable 'Hello'. Only it came out all squeaky, like I were one of those female Chipmunks. Why do embarrassing things happen at all the wrong times?

Anyway, Niffy didn’t verbally respond to me. Instead, she started drawing invisibly with her fingers in the air. Frowning, I followed her hand movements . . . and that was when it hit home.

Momma hadn’t just been speaking for her because the poor beaming girl was shy in talking to her new neighbors.

Momma had been speaking for her because the poor beaming girl couldn’t talk at all.

You see, Niffy is a mute.