"You need to eat more," Lynn said from across the table, slapping more potato salad on my plate. "You look like an Ethiopian poster child."
"He is thinner than usual," Alan agreed.
I stared down at my pale, scrawny legs drowning in Sid's baggy old swim trunks. Fuck. What a boost to my self-esteem. I moved the chicken leg to the other side of my plate then picked it up, inspecting all sides.
"Almost as much meat on that leg as yours," Alan cracked. Sid shot him a dirty look, and I flipped him the finger ala drumstick. Just when I thought he'd changed, Alan goes and proves himself a true horse's ass.
I sighed. The drumstick looked tasty. Life experience told me, Lynn's cooking was deceptive. I closed my eyes and bit a chuck off. I chewed and chewed and chewed. Damn, I'd never disappear. I finally swallowed. Jeez, must be a rubber chicken.
I racked my brain for a way to hide the pots and pans from Lynn. Maybe I'd eat more if Glenda or Sid did the cooking.
Sid sat at the end of the table next to me with Glenda on the other side of him, refilling his glass of lemonade. By the look of Glenda's plate, she hadn't eaten much either.
I quarantined the chicken to the corner of my plate and picked the celery out of the potato salad with my fork. Lifted the salad tentatively to my mouth. Not bad. I ate another fork-full.
"Like the salad?" Lynn asked. "Alan made it."
Figures.
I scratched my bare chest and watched Sid suffering as he struggled to pry open his buttermilk biscuit. With a clang, he dropped his knife in frustration, leaning back in his chair.
I jumped. Something was moving up my leg. I lifted the tablecloth. Peeking under, I tugged the red and white gingham cloth back over my lap. Crap. I scraped my chair closer to the table. Up, up, up, Sid's bare foot slithered. Now how could I enjoy the potato salad with him doing that?
I slumped down in my seat. The big goof was grinning down at his plate. God no, what does he think he's doing?
Inching higher, yes, a little higher. There. I closed my eyes and moaned.
"Will you two stop?" Lynn asked. "This is positively pornographic."
Glenda raised her right eyebrow, smiling.
"Go to your room if you're gonna do that," Alan said. "I've cut you both some slack after what you've both been through, but this is ruining my appetite."
"I thought the chicken did that all by itself--" I said, choking as I bit down on a biscuit. I think I chipped my tooth.
Lynn's eyes squinted evilly; she wound up. A chicken thigh flew across the table.
"Ouch," I hollered, rubbing the side of my head.
"Honey, don't--" Alan said, grabbing Lynn's hand too late. Jeez, bopped in the nose with a biscuit.
"Stop," Sid laughed. "You'll ruin his looks."
Lynn jumped up from the table.
"That does it. I'm not making dinner again," she hissed.
"Promise?" I asked, nursing my nose.
She slammed a carton of milk on the counter.
"Honey-- ah, dear?" Alan said, getting up from the table. "They're just playing with you."
Sid frantically shook his head, no-no-no-not-playing, behind Lynn's back. He was mouthing the words, 'Fire the cook.' Alan ignored Sid while Glenda gave me a rye smile. She crooked her finger at me, and I bowed my head near hers. Loud enough for only Sid and me to hear, she said, "If I were you two, I'd make sandwiches and go out by the lake. It's the only way you're going to get a decent meal tonight."
Sounded good. Let Sid make love to me in the sand, watching the sunset. Sid lips turned up devilishly over the rim of his glass, and my face grew hot thinking of it. Seems the only thing I thought of the last few days was Sid and what positions I could curl him into. That or how perfect the piano resonated. Maybe I should combine both and let Sid tune me up tonight and curl my body up into his.
Now that would improve my appetite.
Glenda whispered into Sid's ear. Since he didn't blush furiously, she wasn't asking him about the picnic on the beach. Probably asking him about the damn serum again.
When Deal and I told Glenda I had the serum, she was relieved. I thought there'd be an argument. Deal's was the only voice of dissention, arguing about timing and saying the plan was morally wrong. Finally I'd asked, did we have enough serum? And just how many injections would it take for Sid to cross over? Peter grudgingly said three to five.
I'd taken more than enough serum.
What bit at me like a pesky mosquito was Glenda's reaction. I thought if anyone would be against Sid taking the serum, she would. I was wrong. The way she was solidly advocating Sid's induction made me suspicious. That's why I'd balked over the last few days; I didn't want him to do this until I found out why it was so damn important to Glenda that Sid become like one of us. I'd asked her. Then I tested my psychic senses out on her to get a closer look-- all I got from Glenda was that this was for the best.
Best? For whom?
Sid and I had a long talk this morning. His mind was made up. He didn't understand why I was having a problem with this decision-- after all, isn't this what I wanted? Hadn't I taken the serum for him? What if Shackleton shows up over the edge of a dune? What if the Community finds us? All Sid's arguments and scenarios made sense. He was right. It was going to happen; they'd find us. We didn't have a choice. I know Sid feels I'll be safer if he became immortal, but I told him not to do it for me. Do it to save himself.
Sid looked over at me. Yeah, that's what he and Glenda were whispering about-- I could tell by the guilty look on his face he'd told her our decision. Tonight he'd begin to become like her, like me.
I closed my eyes. Another mosquito bite-- I couldn't forget what Deal said before he left yesterday. If we did this, everything would change.
I started as Lynn snatched my plate away. Then she grabbed Sid's. In a huff, she scraped everything down the sink.
"Do your own fucking dishes," she yelled over the grinding jaws of the garbage disposal. She marched out of the kitchen and out on the deck.
Usually, I'd let her cool off, and she'd get over it. But her reaction wasn't about our flambéing her culinary skills. Sid winked at me as I excused myself from the table.
I followed her out to the deck.
Her back was to me and she leaned against the railing. I could tell she was crying.
"I don't understand any of this," she said, wiping tears from her cheeks.
I hugged her close to me, cradling the back of her head as it shook with sobs.
"I'm sorry I threw that at you," she said.
"No you're not," I laughed quietly. "But you're sorry about things you don't have any control over. I'm the one who should be telling you I'm sorry. You're in danger because of me."
"You don't need to apologize for caring. If you didn't care about your friends so much, Shackleton and that group-- that Community-- wouldn't want to use us against you."
She sniffed into my neck.
"You're my best friend," she said. "I've been so afraid for you. I can't help but think of Karen. I don't want to lose you, too. "
"I know."
