Read Chapter One? No?

The Afternoon Slug

I sighed for about 5 minutes after I got back in the car, with the last kid at primary and pre-primary. But there was a disturbance in the force. I turned to my right, and there she was. Lydia. What on earth was that woman up to now? It looked like she was pretending to have won some award. I moved my head slightly. Yep. Her phone was on, and she was recording. That woman had over a million followers on her Tock, her Gram and… well, whatever the other one was called. She was being animated all over a latte. It’s coffee, woman – relax.

I took another breath and a minute to think of everything I needed to do today. I wondered if I could avoid it all for another 24 hours and rather go home instead. There was no way I would be able to put my feet up, like I really wanted to. Pop the telly on. It was nice. I didn’t actually want to engage with other adults. Adults were exhausting. But if I went home and listened to the T.V., then it was like being part of an adult conversation, but without having to actually participate. I could listen to them talk and get all the gossip. Or, what was it that they all said on social media…. Tea. Spill the tea.

I hate that I am too old to use catchphrases, but I am still young enough to know them. It’s a weird phase of life. I almost wanted to be old, old – like retired old. I suppose that stage came with its own set of problems… like impending death. Actually, death wouldn’t be so bad. It was the ‘fragile care’ center that I think was worse. In death, the decision of hell or heaven hadn’t been decided on. If it exists at all. But ‘fragile care’ was hell. There was no other option. People chasing you with diapers and rolling their eyes when they don’t think you are looking.

There was a knock at my window, and I shrieked and smacked it. The woman at the window bounced backwards in fright, falling into the car next to me. I turned my car key and pushed the button to open the window.

“Lydia!” I yelled. “Are you alright?”

Why was I asking this intruder if she was alright, when she was the one that scared the be-geezers out of me? Practically wet myself. Practically smashed my window as well.

“Oh, yes, yes,” Lydia said, standing up again, brushing her perfect skirt. “You just startled me.”

I startled her? My hand felt like I had just smashed the Hulk’s face, and I may or may not be sitting in a small puddle of self-generated liquid, and she is the one who is startled.

Lydia straightened herself, put her one hand on her chest, took a breath, and smiled at me.

“Hi Heather. I wanted to find out from you if you have handed in the bake sale slip? It’s this Friday, and some of the other moms and I are thinking of going with a theme! Doesn’t that sound like fun? I think the kids would love it.”

I smiled at her while my eyes glanced down at the compartment between the driver’s and the passenger seat, under the dashboard. A space for 2 cups, and a wallet, or right now, a badly folded, coffee-stained paper that I needed to fill in for the bake sale. I had completely forgotten about. Lucas had given it to me after school on Friday, and I sort of shoved it in there on the way to taking the kids out for lunch.

“I thought the deadline for the slip hand-in was today?” I lied.

“Oh, it is.”

My lie was correct. Ha!

“So you handed it in this morning?”

“Oh, no, I was planning to hand it in on pick up.”

“You left it at home?”

I didn’t like her tone.

“It’s on my desk, with my recipe books,” I lied again. “So many choices of homemade goods you know… all of which my kids love so much, it’s difficult to choose.”

Lie, after lie, after lie. Someone hand me an Oscar.

“Oh, I know the feeling,” Lydia smiled. “That’s why I sorted it all out on Sunday afternoon. You know. During quiet time.”

God, I hated this woman.

“Well, if you have a theme, are you wanting me to join in?” Please say no, please say no, please say no.

“The theme is exotic, so I think it might be out of your skill set. We’re planning coconut ice and mango-infused macarons shaped like tigers.”

Seriously? I could punch her face. Her squishy, perfect eyeliner, little face. How was she able to do the left eye the same as the right? Mine always looked like a dog licked black paint on my eyeball.

“But we were thinking maybe you could do Rice Krispies sweets. They’re easy to do and don’t take up too much time.”

So many back slaps in one statement. I didn’t like the woman, but her tongue-whip was impressive.

“Sure!”

Rice Krispies sweets. I’m going to make the best Rice Krispies sweets. I’m going to use multiple colors with different types of cereal… a rainbow of amazing. That’s what I was going to do. If they wanted exotic, I could do a whole Rice Krispies sculpture with tropical trees and waves. And it was going to be delicious; it would be gobbled up in 5 minutes, and they would insist on giving me an award for it. The “Your bake was so much better than Lydia’s” trophy. And she would be in the corner, crying uncontrollably, muttering things like ‘It’s true, her bake was better. How did she do it? How did Heather make such a crazy amazing Rice Krispies? It was the best Rice Krispies.” And her perfect eyeliner would be pouring down her face, as if she was crying tar.

“Heather?”

I turned and looked at her. I realized I still had my evil smile on my face and quickly switched it to my sweet one.

“Hmm?” I said. “Sorry, Lydia, I have just seen the time. I really need to go. I have so much to do. Be a dear for me, please…”

And I grabbed the paper from the compartment. I fumbled around in the door compartment for a pencil or pen and scribbled on the form.

“Would you hand this in for me, since you’re not busy? Thanks, Lydia! I have got to run!”

I started the car.

“Oh, I thought you said you left this at home?”

“Hmm? What? Thank you!”

I turned to look out of my back window as I reversed.

Two hours later, with each hand laden with bags, I threw my leg up in an attempt to open the front door with my foot. It was a unique, specialist maneuver that only a handful of moms could probably do, but do it, we do. The door slammed open, and I hurried towards the kitchen with my hoard. With one last feat of strength that only a Viking could pull off in one of those festivals where they throw logs across water and toss anvils over mountains, they hurled my treasures onto the counter with a thud.

Todd made an appearance. I think he sensed food. If I looked at him, and his manly pear-shaped body, with his toothpick legs. This was a very unique shape that he and his friends all shared. It came from eating too many potatoes that sank to the quarry of his belly, with a combined exercise regimen that consisted of short, high-cardio stunts on mountain bikes and squash. The result left him with skinny arms and legs. The add-on of eight hours a day at the computer, with a possible 2-3 hours gaming time a day and/or 2-3 hours telly-watching, had forced his neck to lean forward. I suspected this was also due to his eyesight getting bad with age, so to compensate, his neck naturally moved his head forward in an attempt to close the gap from where he was sitting to what he was trying to look at. It was a poor solution and bad planning, but it was a lot easier to slowly become Quasimodo than to phone and organize an eye test.

“What is all of that!” he scoffed as he entered the kitchen. “Is this what my salary is being used for? An endless supply of cereal? And is that 3 bags full of marshmallows?! Are you mental?!”

“Are you hungry?” I smiled, spinning on my Mary-Janes. “You are always grumpy when you are hungry.”

“I’m not hungry. You’ve pitched up at home, with a grocery haul of nonsense! Who wrote the shopping list? Lucy?”

I grabbed a bowl from the cupboard, ripped open one of the cereals and poured the milk in. Within seconds I shoved the bowl, with a spoon at him. He looked at it and then looked at the bags. He scooped up the milk and soggy sugar nuggets into his mouth, sloshing half of it back into his bowl.

“I’m not happy about this, Heather,” he muttered.

“Go back to work; you have a meeting on in ten.”

I had no idea if he had a meeting or not, but either way, I turned to give my attention to the unpacking that needed to be done.

He shrugged and decided that he was obviously living with a mad woman, so he shuffled back to his office in his socks.

“Don’t mess!” I shouted.

I put my hands on the counter and waited. There was the soft click of the office door being closed. I sighed. Life was so much more fun when he was at the office, and I could do as I pleased without him questioning everything. He had no idea what I was up against. The roles of women and men had changed. He was the one now gathering and foraging little cells in the field of Excel spreadsheets, while I was planning and getting my forces ready for war against the malicious beast known as Lydia. It was going to take all my resources to vanquish her from my territory. But vanquish I would. First things first, I needed to get the other boxes of cereal from the car and the other bags of marshmallows. Todd had no idea about the rage of war I was in.