Page 81 of How Much Wine Will Fix My Broken Heart?
‘Oh, we’re also all wearing something yellow on Sunday. I thought I’d pre-warn you because we might turn up looking like a troop of canaries.’
I smile. Beth looks to my wrist at a yellow friendship bracelet I bought off a street market vendor in Vietnam. It was Tom’s favourite colour. Yellow was his thing.
‘I’ll look like the fucking sun,’ Beth tries to joke.
‘Radiant.’
‘Round.’
‘Thanks for the goss, though. Good to at least know…’
‘Well, that’s my job. Sister spy in the middle.’
‘Then who am I?’ someone says from behind us, grabbing us both at the waist and trying to sandwich herself between us.
‘The mistake on the end,’ Beth says, kissing the top of Lucy’s head.
‘What are you guys up to?’
‘Just having a wander. Do you know where everyone is?’ I ask her.
‘Scattered. All the kids wanted to see different things. I’ve given them all scavenger-hunt tasks. They have to tally how many animal willies they see in a day.’
Beth turns to glare at her. ‘You know Joe is, like, two?’
‘And? It’s all biology. Also, I have no barometer for these things. You forget I was the youngest of five so I was told everything way too early. Like, I knew about periods when I was six so if anyone is to blame for the way I am…’ she points her finger between us, ‘it’s all you bitches.’
‘How did you find out about periods?’ asks Beth.
‘Well, it was the loo with the faulty lock. I walked in on Meg and saw her changing her pad and I thought she was dying. And she screamed at me to get out and then ripped some pubes out because the pad had wings. I thought she’d been stabbed.’
‘In the flange?’ I say.
She shakes her head at Beth. ‘Flange is an architectural word. Look it up. All your minds are in the gutters, it’s so sad.’
Beth’s bosom and belly jiggle from laughing. ‘So what you’re saying is, we turned you into this,’ she says.
‘It was part of being the youngest – everything was passed down, the clothes, the knowledge. The only thing I was able to carve out for myself was my winning taste in music.’
Beth puts her hand to the air. ‘Nope, that was all from me, so really… you are just some poor imitation of us all.’
Lucy sticks her tongue out at us both. ‘Wait, is that Doug?’ she asks.
‘You haven’t slept with Doug too, have you?’
‘No. He was at the funeral. Who’s slept with Doug?’ she enquires.
Beth pretends she needs something at the very bottom of her handbag as Lucy’s eyes shoot between us.
‘Wanger!’ she suddenly says. For a moment, I think she’s talking about Doug but turn to see that red panda. That panda has a wanger. And all of us tilt our heads to watch him jerk himself off, quite casually, not really caring who’s watching. Lucy, I think we may have found you a BFF.
* * *
‘And these are native to Venezuela and Brazil,’ I say, mumbling in the darkness. ‘Isn’t that interesting, Joe?’
I stand there in the gloom, pushing my nephew’s stroller back and forth. The zoo was far too much for Beth’s toddler son so I’ve taken on the job of pushing him around and keeping him asleep. If that sounds like a chore then it isn’t because this spares me the riot that is the penguin feeding. Has it been a nice day so far? The girls are ecstatic to have a crowd around them, no one has thrown Lucy to the wolves yet, or for that fact my mother for commenting how all the drinks are severely overpriced. So, for now, the cool darkness of the reptile house is providing some respite.
‘And this bad boy here is from Guyana,’ Doug tells me. I also have a Doug with me, who, today, has provided the perfect escape when family members have become a bit too full on. ‘There’s actually someone coming from Guyana tomorrow, do you know? His name is Barrett. I’ve told Joyce I’ll pick him up tomorrow from the airport. Apparently, Tom met him under a waterfall on some trek and lent him fresh socks.’
