Three years, four days, seven hours and six seconds of waiting and I didn't even get to pick him up from the airport. Bummer. It didn't really matter how much I protested, Ma wanted "help" creating the perfect welcome dinner. Stubborn probably comes with my mother's photograph in the dictionary, well I suppose it can't be helped. It's only an extra couple of hours at most, I can wait, right?
"Hunny! Pick up the phone."
"Sure thing."
"What?"
Never mind. There must be a golden rule somewhere in this galaxy that reads, when you want your poor abused and harassed daughter to do something you have to yell it from another room, when abused and harassed daughter replies just in case it was a rude negative you go deaf thus forcing the second party to actually follow the order.
"Pierson, hello?"
"Hey hun!"
"Hey Dad."
"Look sweets we've got some male catching up to do so, we're just going to have a couple of beers at the airport."
"Makes sense."
"I knew you would understand after all it does save time, having to pick up his little lady and all in only a couple of hours."
"I see, what little lady."
"Linda, his fiancée. You know about this darling I told you."
"You said she was coming tomorrow."
"I did?"
"Look dad, it doesn't matter. I'll see you later."
I knew it. Well I guess it doesn't really matter. I mean what am I getting all excited about? He is after all arriving with the love of his life, who he is engaged to, I did not stand a chance. Not forgetting of course the other little detail. I am his sister. Should I get the shotgun now, or see him first and shoot myself later. Hard decision, hmm. Maybe just becoming a hermit in a nearby mountain trying forever to erase the shame my dreadful fantasy world taints me with. Or maybe I could just get on with my life, which at this precise moment includes laying the table with perfect precision.
"Hunny, what was it you wanted to say to me?"
"Huh?"
"You shouted something I couldn't hear when you went to pick the phone up dear."
"Oh, that, nothing important."
"Darling, I said three inches not two that fork's in the wrong place. Maybe you should get a ruler."
"Mum, it looks fine. Don't look at me like that. We're going to make a perfect impression on his girl whether or not the forks are in the right place!"
"I just want things to be perfect. This is the first girl he's shown real interest in. It's time he got married. I can't wait forever to get grandchildren. Speaking of which when are you going to start dating seriously? Hmm? Follow your step-brothers example dear."
Not this speech again! Please have mercy. I visit once a week and what do I get to do? Listen to the same old thing, the same old argument. I must get married, I must have kids, I must do this, I must do that. Why don't I follow my brother's example… Um, let's see, because I want to tear his clothes off with my teeth and make mad passionate love to him, after of course disposing of his darling little sweet fiancée. I do naturally want the best for him, for him to find true happiness. But why is it he can't figure out that I am perfect for him. I'm pretty, have a good body, I'm perfectly healthy, intelligent, know him better than anyone and love him unconditionally. Oh, yeah I'm also slightly obsessed with him which I guess could be a flaw but I am also a nymphomaniac so I guess I'm a good package.
"Dear?"
"What?"
"You haven't listened to a word I've said have you?"
"I deny everything I listened to at least three."
"Now who is going to marry you with that smart mouth, huh? Now come in and help me with the soup."
Sometimes I feel sorry I can't fit in with anybody's expectation of me. The only person who accepts me as I am with no regrets is Garth, ergo my falling for him. Even my father thinks I'm too much like my mother, not that I would know. Graves don't make for good conversation. I wonder if she would understand me, who knows, it's possible. Maybe I should go and confide in her, grave; after all I do need someone to talk to about my love, about my feelings. I feel a pit opening, ready to swallow me up when I contemplate the idea of my soul mate marrying another woman. I feel lost and also incredibly selfish, I should support him in this, help him in his pursuit of happiness and stir the soup faster or it'll burn and Ma will kill me before I get round to it.
"That's right dear, don't forget to scrape the bottom, don't want the soup to burn now do we?"
"Tell me again why we're having soup?"
"His fiancée likes it dear."
"Right. I guess there's no way I can plead off the soup?"
"No dear it wouldn't be polite."
"Mum, I'm 21. I have the right not to eat pea soup if I don't like it. What's more I'm not going to whether you like it or not."
"Not even a spoon full?"
"Ma, you know I dislike soup. Don't you think it even a remote possibility that Linda will understand such an alien concept?"
"Ok dear. I guess you're right you're all grown up now, I just can't get used to the idea."
"Ma, I don't even live with you any more, how can you still see me as a kid?"
"Well maybe if you got yourself a nice young man you would convince me."
"Mum!"
3 hours later
"All I'm saying is a young girl needs a nice man to protect her, keep her happy. I just want to see you settled down before I die. Is that so much to ask for? I mean really hunny, you make me consider the idea that you might not like boys. Is that it? Are you a lesbian? Please don't tell me your one of those and I so wanted you to settle down with a man."
"Ok! I'll eat the bloody soup! Jeez mum, leave my sexuality alone and my sex life and my commitments to men or otherwise. It's none of your business!"
"You'll eat the soup?"
"Yes!!!!"
I have a headache and I have to eat pea soup. This is it. I have died and gone to hell. What did I do in my past lives to deserve this? Oh the door, there here. There here? Oh my God, how do I look.
"Gin!"
"Garth! Put me down, down you bad boy."
