Authors: R.T Broughton
“What? Surely you’ve told him that the last one was a –”
Before she could finish the sentence, Aisyah had moved behind her and slammed the lid shut. “Right, time to sing the Happy Birthday,” she said, assuming that Carol Smith would prefer to tell her new boyfriend herself how she had discovered her last boyfriend just before he had performed unspeakable acts on Heston Wellsey, shot him in the balls, and then gone after the bone sculptor. Marcus had sung like a canary to save his own skin. She had subsequently told Kathy that she didn’t know what came over her; she just knew that she had to go after him and she had to go straight away—perhaps the vigilante spirit ran in the blood.
The lights were dimmed and cheers erupted from the gathered relatives and college friends as Suri’s dad crept into the room holding a lit birthday cake shaped like a film reel. Just as they began to sing, however, the doorbell rang. Everyone looked around, but no one seemed willing to move.
“I’ll go,” Kathy mouthed to Aisyah, who was engrossed in the proceedings, and made her way down the hallway and back to the front door. When she opened it, she was greeted by a delivery man in shorts and a short-sleeved shirt.
“Package for Suri…” he said, mumbling the unpronounceable last name.
Kathy tried to answer, but she was hit by the force of the man’s smell. He absolutely reeked, and Kathy’s hand jumped to her nose to block it. She took the parcel with her other hand and tried to make her discomfort as invisible as possible as she had discussed with her counsellor.
“Charmin!” he huffed. “I showered this morning, you rude cow.”
“Thank you,” Kathy eventually said and quickly pulled herself back into the house, shut the door and leaned into it, catching her breath again after blocking him out. She could still hear the singing in the other room but didn’t return immediately. The smell was still with her and she needed a few minutes to herself, which she had also discussed with her counsellor. After she was happy that the air was stench-free, she propelled herself off the door to return to the celebrations—it was so nice to see Suri and her folks and spend some time with her mum and Brady, but her body seemed to have a mind of its own and walked her up the stairs to the landing window. Her phone was out of her pocket before she had reached the top and she was snapping away at the delivery man, making sure that she got a close up of his face and the number plate of his van.
Minutes later, she was back in the living room. “Did I miss anything?” she asked cheerily, taking a slice of cake from Mustapha and sinking her teeth into it, and then she draped her arm around Suri’s shoulder.
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