Family gatherings. I loved them, not for some sycophantic cooing, familial bonding with my Minty, not for the (Moroccan) food, not for the love of family...I loved family gatherings for my own pure carnal needs. Yes, carnal needs...I said it. Spending more than five minutes with any member of my family often resulted in a massive, sickening desire for multiple organ failure...theirs or mine, I was never particularly fussed.
Fourth of July was possibly the one holiday my Dad went totally goo-goo over. When it came to this time of the year he turned into this big patriot weirdo, which didn't make any sense because he's British. To the core: he doesn't even associate with more than half a dozen Americans at a time; he gets rashes if exposed for too long; hates American food and complains about the political system constantly. But come the Fourth, he dons a stupid Uncle Sam apron and cranks up the barbecue to celebrate "freedom" and "independence". His kinds are obliged to join in, despite the fact that 75% of them aren't free enough to be allowed to watch TV at four in the morning, or eat toaster strudel, morning noon and night.
I sat by the pool with my sunglasses over my eyes, watching my sister coaching her kids how to swim from the side of the pool. Tim was watching with his video camera and an embarrassing corked hat he'd procured from an Australian friend.
Brendan stepped out onto the deck without a shirt, sporting aviators and a beer. I looked up and caught his eye. I slid my sunglasses down my nose, running my eyes up and down his body. He did the same. It didn't help I was in a blue and white bikini top and a short skirt covering my suit bottoms. I pushed my sunglasses back up my nose before turning away from the deck.
"CANNON BALL!" Joey yelled, as he jumped into the pool.
"WOO!" Brendan yelled, enthusiastically looking straight at me.
I looked back up at Brendan through my fringe as he nodded his head backwards towards the house. I smiled and flipped my hair over my shoulder. We walked into the house, not together, but Brendan first, then me, following after a few minutes. I knew exactly what I wanted to do...
...And this was not it. I sat pressed up against the wall in the dark coat closet of my bedroom. Brendan sat cross-legged, across from me, leaning up against the door in a provocative but passive way: both of us were silent.
"Sooo," I mumbled.
"We need to talk," he said.
"Well there isn't much of that going on right now. There isn't much of anything going on!"
"Daisy I want to be with you, in front of Joey and your family and everyone!"
"I have to go."
I got up from the ground and opened the closet door. Brendan stared for a second, and then joined me.
"I figured you'd say that..."
"Then why did you ask?" I cracked.
"Daisy I have a girlfriend."
Oh. Hell. No. Cue the shock. I looked solidly at the bedroom door. He had a girlfriend yet he wanted to ask if we could be together? We had eye sex! Eye sex! I chewed my lip before popping my hip and smiling away the surprise.
"Really? You could've laid off the eye sex out there then? I mean come on Joey was right there..."
"Dukes have you seen how you look?"
I glared at him before marching over to my closet. I grabbed the nearest plain t-shirt and pulled it over my head. It covered my bikini top and the almost the whole of my skirt. I crossed my arms and glared at him, flicking my hair over my shoulder, irritated.
"Well then take your last look. Taken guys aren't my type."
I headed for the door shoving Brendan's shoulder out of the way. I kept walking making sure to shake my hips. I opened the door, turning slightly to look back at him in anger. He would regret ending this.
I walked out to by the pool and stood by Joey: he was swaying back and forth to some non-descript rock song on the radio, beer in hand. His tanned face was rosy with the heat and his dimpled chin was accentuated by his grin.
"Celebrate with my Dukesy Doo." he sang.
I grabbed the beer from my brother and took a long drink as he did an air guitar move.
"Why are we celebrating?" I asked over the music.
"Brendan and I are moving back home!" Joey sang.
My heart stopped. I stared at him in honest disbelief. No. No. No. I turned around to run somewhere when I saw Brendan watching from the deck, chugging a drink from a dirty-looking glass. I raised an eyebrow and shook my hips to the song.