Author's Notes: Please let me know if I'm being repetitive or dragging things out too much. I may be taking the title too literally.
Chapter 26
Day 9
Otis stepped back and let a woman pass then returned to Maeve's side as she selected two small cans of tuna from the shelf and placed them in the shopping basket he was carrying. She moved to the next shelf and selected a can each of peaches and pears and placed them in the basket.
"You know, next time we go shopping," he said, "you should come with us to Southclyde. Probably be able to get things a little cheaper."
"Whatever I saved in groceries I'd spend on the bus there and back," Maeve murmured, only half-listening.
"That's why I'm saying come with us. We don't charge petrol money."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. Might even be able to get a few specials. We take three, you take one."
Maeve moved to the opposite shelf and picked a packet of spaghetti and a bag of rice and placed them in the basket. "When are you going shopping next?"
"Not till next Thursday. Sorry."
"It's okay. I'm no worse off. Actually better, because I can just buy for a week instead of two. Thanks for thinking of it."
Maeve continued walking along the aisle, Otis following behind. She picked a small packet of cereal off the shelf and placed it in the basket.
"Jackson kept trying to slip me cash," she said. "He never even thought of just taking me someplace things are cheaper."
Otis noticed items on the shelf further beyond her and his face lit up. "Do you mind if I buy snacks for tonight? I mean, I'll pay."
"What are you getting?"
"Crisps and biscuits."
"Yeah, that's fine."
"I'll get cheese and onion. What do you feel like?" he asked her.
"Just get what you want."
Otis turned and gave her a dead-eyed stare until she sighed, smiled and asked, "Do they have sour cream and chives?"
"I'll check," he said and hurried to the crisps section.
Maeve followed him and watched him select two packets from the shelf and place them in the shopping basket.
"Okay," said Otis gleefully, "now what kind of biscuits are you in the mood for? I hope they have Viennese," he said, turning his head to try to locate the shelf containing the biscuits.
"They're around the other side," Maeve said and moved to the cooler section.
"So what do you want?" Otis asked as he moved to the next aisle.
"Oi, packhorse," Maeve said, sharply. "I need the basket over here."
"Sorry," said Otis, sheepishly, and hurried to join her.
"We do that aisle next," she said as she placed a bottle of cream in the basket.
"You've got this down to a fine art."
"I just know the quickest way to get through it."
"I should have got a second basket. Split your list."
"I don't have a list but, here, give me that," Maeve said and held out her arms and waited as Otis handed over the shopping basket. "You know the brands I get for milk and orange juice, don't you?"
"Of course. I notice things."
"Of course you do."
Maeve smiled and watched him tenderly as he hurried away. She had never gone shopping with Jackson but she couldn't imagine it would ever have felt as comforting as this did.
Maeve and Otis walked across the field leading to the caravan park, each carrying a pair of shopping bags.
"Thanks for helping me, muppet," Maeve said.
"It was fun."
"Grocery shopping's not fun. When you yelled out across the shop, 'Do you have a heavy flow?', that was fun."
"You told me the brand of your tampons and pads but you didn't tell me the specific type you needed," Otis protested.
"I think the old bird next to me was going to have a heart attack. You scandalised her."
"It's a perfectly natural thing to ask about a perfectly natural function," Otis said with as much dignity as he could muster.
"Oh, but it's supposed to be talked about in whispers, dontcha know?" Maeve sneered.
"How did things get to be so stupid?"
"Do you really want me to answer that question?"
"No," he sighed. "I've probably heard it in more jargon-laced language than you would use, but I have heard it."
"When your mum was going on about your dad?"
"When she's really drunk, she doesn't confine herself to just dad."
"In vino veritas."
"I wish people weren't like that."
"That's why we need to have at least a dozen kids. Otherwise Idiocracy is a documentary."
"What's Idiocracy?"
"A prediction."
The caravan came into view and Maeve started down the slope, not realising Otis was not following until his startled voice came from behind her.
"Wait. Kids? A dozen?"
"I'm fucking with you, muppet," she called back.
Otis hurried after her. "But isn't that how you get kids? I'm sure mum said that was how you get kids."
"My mum told me they came out of the cabbage patch."
"So what were you and Ola talking about?"
"Just about using a cup instead of a tampon. It'd be cheaper if I get the reusable ones."
"So why didn't she want me hearing that?"
"I think she thought you'd be embarrassed."
"After I yelled out about your flow across the shop?"
"She didn't hear that. I saw her come in after you said it."
"The two of you seemed to be getting along."
"I'm a lion, she's a goddess. Why wouldn't we get along?"
They reached the caravan and Maeve put down her bags and reached into her jacket pocket for her keys.
"It'll be good when she starts next term," Otis said as Maeve began unlocking the door.
"Why? You still fancy her?"
"No," Otis said, a little too loud.
"Oooh, that was very forceful," Maeve said with a smirk as she picked up the shopping bags. "Protesting too much, methinks."
"I was just thinking that we could hang out," Otis said as Maeve walked up the steps into the caravan with him following her.
"Me and Eric not good enough for you anymore?" Maeve asked as she carried the bags over to the breakfast table and placed them upon it.
"It's not that. It's just…"
"What?" Maeve asked as she stepped aside so Otis could place the bags he was carrying onto the table.
"It'd just be nice to have another friend to hang around with."
"Yeah, it would," Maeve murmured.
Maeve stood at the bench in the caravan, slicing bacon into small pieces. Otis stood at the bench on the other side of the sink, breaking eggs into a bowl.
"So did you get your results yet?" Maeve asked.
"Yeah," Otis said.
"And?" she asked, impatiently.
"I'm clean."
"I told you."
"We needed to make sure."
Maeve heard noise from the direction of the stove and glanced over.
"Oh, can you turn that down a little bit?" she asked. "I think I put it on too soon."
Otis hurried to the stove and turned the heat down a little.
"I wish mine were back so quickly," Maeve muttered.
"It's okay. I haven't been thinking—"
"The Red Tsunami's a boner killer, is it?" she murmured, an undertone in her voice.
"What? No," said Otis, offended.
"There's things we can do," she said quietly. "I can think of one thing I know you like."
"Transmission can go both ways, Maeve."
"Really? That sucks."
Otis glanced at the recipe book Maeve had open beside herself. "Where's the garlic?" he asked, glancing around the bench.
"Are you wanting to at least get snogged tonight?" Maeve asked.
"Good point." Otis conceded, starting to put his arms around Maeve's waist.
"You finished with those eggs?"
"Nearly," Otis said and hurried back to his place at the bench, pouring parmesan cheese into the bowl. "I really enjoy cooking with you."
"Me, too," Maeve murmured, lifting the chopping board and scraping pieces of bacon into the frying pan where it began gently sizzling.
"Do you want to cook something tomorrow night?" Otis asked as he held the bowl, whisking the cheese into the eggs. "I mean, at my place. You are staying tomorrow night, aren't you?"
"I haven't been asked," Maeve said, blandly.
"Oh, sorry," Otis said. "Would you like to stay over at my place tomorrow night?"
"I'll think about it."
"Mum's going out with Jakob again so it'll just be the two of us. Again."
"We are not staying downstairs, this time."
"At least, not with our clothes off."
"Not all of our clothes, anyway," Maeve murmured. "Okay, you can start draining the spaghetti now."
Maeve sat at the table and finished swallowing the last of her spaghetti carbonara and belched.
"Compliments to the chef," she said without embarrassment.
Otis smiled across the table at her. "Does that actually work if you're the chef?"
Maeve attempted a second belch. "Compliments to me."
"That was really nice. I loved it."
"I could tell by the way you were scarfing it down."
"Not my fault if you're such a deliberate, dainty, delicate—"
Maeve belched again.
"You were saying?" she asked blandly.
"You belch worse than mum does," Otis said, grinning.
"Surprised you didn't belch. Eating that quickly."
"Doesn't mean I'm not complimenting the chef, but I rarely belch. I rarely even burp."
"God, I go through periods where I belch all the time."
"When you're having your period?"
"No, not—" she began then stopped, pondering. "I don't think there's any connection," she continued, frowning. "I go through belching bouts when I'm not on my period. I think."
"I remember one time when Eric and I were at one of his church things and he belched so loud and so long a couple of babies started crying. Everybody was looking at us. It was so embarrassing."
"Not belching but I remember one time, I was at some school thing and this old guy that was supposed to be judging whatever it was – he was sitting on a raised platform and we were all in a semi-circle and he fell asleep and just as they were about to award somebody something he gave this great big fart. I swear, it went on for about three minutes and no-one was game enough to wake him up."
"I remember that," Otis said with surprised recognition. "I was sitting just six feet away from him. Just to the right and behind him."
"Really?" asked Maeve, equally surprised.
"I still remember how bad that smelled. I thought I was going to die. I had visions of my death certificate saying 'Cause Of Death: Asphyxiation Via Extreme Flatulence'."
"Somebody should have lit a match behind him."
"He would have gone up like a rocket."
"Shit, I can't believe you were there," Maeve said, incredulously.
"Well, the whole school was there."
"What was it for?"
"Athletics carnival."
"That's right," Maeve said, memories returning.
"I think that was Jordan's first and only win at the hundred metres and that happens."
"Good on you, farty old guy," Maeve said, raising her thumbs into the air and giving an approving pout.
"Where were you sitting?"
"Over the other side. Right away from him."
"I wish I had been over there."
"I wish we had been sitting together," Maeve sighed wistfully.
"You would have just given me the finger."
"That was before Simon Furthassle. I wasn't giving people the finger then."
"Do you think we could have been friends?"
"I'm going to dream we were. You can be my first boyfriend."
"I am so making you soft," Otis murmured with a smile.
Maeve emerged from the bathroom and glanced into her bedroom, gazing regretfully at the small bag sitting on her bed. She sighed, entered the bedroom, snatched up the bag and shoved it into the bottom drawer beside her bed then turned and walked back to the kitchen.
She stopped in the doorway and gazed at Otis standing at the sink, carefully washing the dishes.
"You didn't have to do that," she said softly.
"I don't mind," he said. "Saves us having to do them later. It won't take long."
She smiled to herself then walked over to him, leaning against his back and putting her arms around him. "Thank you."
"So do you have any idea what you want to do tonight?" he asked, offhandedly.
She sighed wistfully. "I've got lots of ideas. If I wasn't dealing with the Crimson Horror."
Otis grimaced. "That's a horrible name."
"Talking with Auntie Flo?"
Otis grunted and Maeve was certain he was scrunching his nose.
"At the Red Wedding?" she continued with a smirk in her voice. "In the middle of a Code Red? Getting the painters in?"
"'Les Anglais ont debarqué'?" Otis murmured tentatively.
"What does that mean?" she asked.
"'The English have landed'," Otis said.
Maeve giggled. "Where the hell does that come from?"
Otis gasped in mock surprise. "You giggled."
"Yeah, I giggled," Maeve said defiantly. "You make me fucking giggle."
"Is it because you're… surfing the Crimson Wave?" he concluded, hesitantly.
"I thought you said you hadn't seen Clueless," Maeve said, accusingly.
"Oh, is that where that comes from?" Otis asked, surprised.
"We'll have to watch it," Maeve murmured.
"We can add it to the list for tomorrow night."
"So what do you want to do tonight?"
"What do you normally do during… Strawberry Week?"
Maeve laughed. "Every week's Strawberry Week for me. I thought you knew that by now."
Maeve lay stretched along the lounge, leaning against Otis as he sat in the corner of the lounge, arm around her waist, feet resting on the table. Soft music played in the background.
"He wrote it for Linda," Otis was saying. "He was feeling really depressed with all the shit that was going on at the time and she helped him through it."
"He sings like he really loved her," Maeve murmured.
"They were together about thirty years and he said they only ever spent one night apart. 'Cause he was in jail, I think."
"Wow, that's really clingy."
"I thought it was sweet."
"Just goes to show, doesn't it?"
"Show what?"
"All marriages end badly. Divorce or death."
"There's my Cynical Maeve."
"'Your' Cynical Maeve?"
"I don't mean 'my' as in I think you're my property. It's just… it's a common phrase… it just means… we're together and you're my girlfriend- there, if I said 'my girlfriend' that wouldn't imply ownership, would it?"
"Keep digging."
"My shovel broke."
The music changed and Maeve shifted her head closer toward Otis.
"Tell me about this one," she asked.
"There's two versions. They re-recorded it. It's a little smoother but basically the same."
"It sounds like it's going to be really romantic."
"It was a birthday present to his wife because he missed her birthday."
"Arsehole."
"He was in the studio," Otis protested.
"No excuse."
Otis remained sitting in the corner of the lounge, Maeve leaning against him, her knees raised so she could rest her feet on the edge of the table. Otis listened intently as her voice seemed to gain ever more passion.
"She was hemmed in by the strictures of her time," she was saying. "She wanted so much but none of it was 'lady-like'. None of it was the expected thing for a girl of her time to do. She was supposed to choose all these things that she was being groomed for, not what she actually wanted."
"I thought she wanted those things," Otis said, confused.
"She thought she wanted those things because everyone and everything around her was telling her those were things a person of her… 'station'… was supposed to want. She wasn't allowed to find out for herself what she really did want. Remember that passage about the fig tree – where if she ate one fig then all the others were forever inaccessible to her? She wasn't given the freedom to fail. To try one fig and - if she didn't like the taste or if she finished it - then try another fig. Once bitten – once she took that first step – that was it."
"She was stuck on that path forever with no way to get off," Otis said, cautiously. "That's why-"
"Yes. It was literally killing her."
"Would you help me read through it again?"
"Sure."
Maeve lay stretched along the lounge, resting her head on Otis' leg as she looked up at him while he still sat with his legs stretched along the table.
"The view from that bedroom is glorious," she said. "I don't know why you don't sleep down there."
"It's too small. And I've always slept in the upstairs bedroom."
"My morning view is usually either Jeffrey's buttcrack or Bulworth taking a dump."
"Who's Bulworth?"
"Dog from four vans down. Cynthia's always telling Robert she'll take a shovel to Bulworth if he does it again but she never does."
"It wasn't always a bedroom. Dad used it as a storeroom then he built the steps leading down off the balcony and moved everything under the house."
"It's a really nice house. I was so surprised how beautiful it was when I came over."
"It was actually built in London."
"Really?"
"Then a rich guy liked it and moved it down here. That was about a hundred years ago."
"The ostentatiousness of extreme wealth," Maeve muttered. "But it is incredibly gorgeous sitting in this environment," she conceded.
"It's supposed to be inspired by houses in Norway."
"Norway must have great architects."
"Not sure if they design them like this nowadays. And actually, it's not a house. It's a chalet."
"Oh," said Maeve, adopting a cultured mocking tone. "A chalet? How very."
Otis sat in the same place on the lounge, arm curled around Maeve whose head was resting against his shoulder while her legs were stretched out beside his as their music continued.
"It was inspired by their sadness at what happened to the original lead singer," Otis said.
"What happened to him?"
"Drugs. Schizophrenia."
Maeve was about to say something but stopped as a lyric smashed across her consciousness. "That was a great line," she murmured.
"Yeah. Dad really liked that line."
"This is really good."
"The whole album is good."
"You really know a lot about old music," Maeve said, quietly impressed.
"Mum and dad would tell me stuff and Google is my friend."
"I couldn't tell you anything about most of the songs I like."
"Eric gets sick of me sometimes. He'll be grooving and I'll pipe up, 'This was written for—' 'Oh, shut up, Otis'," Otis said in his best impression of Eric's voice.
"I like you sharing this stuff. It's interesting."
"We should put on your music."
"We listened to my music last night."
"I do like more modern stuff."
"It's nice listening to music from before I was born."
"I think most of this was written before mum was born."
They were silent for a while until the music switched to another tune.
"Oh, I do know about this one," Maeve said, pleased. "Two lovers at the Berlin Wall."
"I think he sang it once at the Berlin Wall and he said it was very emotional."
"'Just for one day'," Maeve sang.
"I think it's probably my favourite of his."
"So have you found a place we can go dancing?"
"I've been looking but every place I've found we're too young."
"If that's all, that's not an issue."
Otis gave a strangulated groan.
"Live a little, muppet," Maeve said, smiling to herself.
Maeve snuggled against Otis on the lounge, their lips and tongues gently playing. His hand was gently squeezing her breast over her top and her bra, his thumb slowly encircling her nipple.
When they came up for air, Otis murmured, "Did you really think I wouldn't be aroused because you're on your period?"
"You just didn't seem to want to do more than cuddle the last couple of nights," Maeve murmured.
"I gave you a medical consultation on Wednesday," he protested.
"A little one," Maeve said, smiling gently.
"I just thought…" Otis began. "You didn't seem to be pushing for more and I didn't want to do anything that made you feel uncomfortable."
Maeve sighed softly and rested her head against his chest. "I'm just moody."
"If you want to say something…"
"Doesn't matter."
"Maeve…?" he said gently.
"It's just… Jackson wouldn't hug me even when I wasn't in 'Stay the fuck away from me' mode. He would barely kiss me and sex was right out of the question." She sighed. "Sorry. I promise one day I'll stop talking about Jackson."
"It's okay. Like I've said. Jackson's different. He's part of our story."
Maeve was silent for a moment, then said, "Sometimes he made me feel as if I was being punished for something I don't have control over. Something I didn't choose. I know I shouldn't have let it get to me, but, fuck it. I mean, he is a nice guy, but that's the problem, isn't it? That genuinely nice guys can still be like that."
"I'm sorry I was making you feel that way."
"No, I didn't mean… you've been making me feel safe and loved and… accepted. You've been great. I think that's why I feel so cuddly."
"So you've never had sex when you're on your period?" he asked, cautiously, seeking confirmation.
"No."
"Eric said we could just try it and see," he said, tentatively. "If you wanted to…"
"No," Maeve said, firmly. "We've still got to wait for my results."
"We have condoms," Otis suggested.
"Condoms break," Maeve muttered.
"True," Otis murmured.
"You'd really try?" she asked, curiously.
"Well, you're making me feel really comfortable with intimacy. Maybe I don't need to talk to the therapist about sex. I'm not trying to pressure you," he said hurriedly. "I'd stop if I felt uncomfortable."
Maeve pondered. "There's things we can do that are close. We can try some of those next week if my results come back clear."
"They will."
"This is good enough for tonight," she said, lifting her head to kiss him tenderly.
"What do you think we could do? Next week."
"What do you want to do?"
Otis hesitated momentarily then said, "Watch you fan your fur?"
"You're really getting into talking like a sixteen year old, aren't you?"
"I haven't used any offensive ones, have I? I've been trying—"
"I'll let you know if I don't like something."
"What terms do you use?"
"'Buttering my muffin'. 'Gilding the lily'." She giggled. "'Paddling the pink canoe.'"
"'Double-clicking your mouse button'?"
"You would use that one."
"It's from American Pie."
"Mainly, I just use wank."
"I get confused sometimes. Mum says we should be using clinical terms but then she'll talk to Adam about man milk."
Maeve laughed in surprise. "What?"
"Mum was talking to Adam about how cannabis can cause early onset impotence. That a number of her clients used drugs at his age and now had problems ejaculating. And that's when she said it. Jizz. Spunk. Man milk."
"Never say man milk again," Maeve chuckled, horrifiedly amused.
"I wanted to just die."
"That's when he was having his dick problems, wasn't it?"
"That's why he showed the video."
"Dickhead," Maeve muttered. "Does anybody ever say anything about it?"
"No. I'm Sex Kid. Not Courgette Son."
"Sexy Kid," Maeve murmured.
Otis gave a muffled grunt.
"Own it, muppet. You are sexy."
"But you don't like me calling you sexy?" he asked, cautiously.
"No. I know it's a double standard but the world is full of fucking double standards, isn't it? Jackson's a stud and I'm a slag. He sows his oats and I bang more than a dunny door in a gale."
Otis was silent, not knowing how to respond.
"It comes with too much baggage," Maeve continued. "It's so tied into objectification. 'Nice rack, Wiley.' 'Boobs as big as Everest.' 'Bend her over and fuck her ten ways to Christmas'."
"I wouldn't—"
"I know. It isn't directed at you. It's just… I can't help but hear it with all that baggage." She sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm getting really heavy. I've got a lot of pent-up frustration."
Otis was silent for a moment, then murmured, "I don't think you should ever apologise for being the smartest person in the room."
Maeve snorted softly. "Maybe I should just have a wank and go to sleep."
"If you want to talk, Maeve," Otis offered quietly.
"Nah, but if I do part the Red Sea later, you can watch."
Maeve and Otis sat at the dining table, sour cream and chives crisps in a bowl sitting between them.
Maeve crunched on a crisp. "Except for school shit, I don't think I've ever been on an actual holiday."
"I can ask mum if it's okay for you to come with us. Gramps has a few spare bedrooms."
"No, it's okay."
"It'd be nice. Won't have to be away from you for two weeks."
"If you can't be away from me for two weeks—"
"I'll miss you," Otis said, plaintively.
Maeve smiled softly. "Yeah, me too."
"Think about it. Christmas is ages away."
Maeve ate a few chips in pensive silence, then said, "We were going to see a movie last weekend. Do you want to try this weekend?"
"Are we paying for it?" Otis asked uncertainly.
"What do you think?"
"'Live a little'," Otis whispered to himself.
"Is there anything you want to see?" Maeve asked.
"I don't know what's on."
"We'll check later."
They ate a few more chips in pensive silence then Otis asked, "Did Aimee take in the Aptitude Scheme stuff for you?"
"Yeah, she said she gave it to Miss Sands."
"Does that mean you're automatically in?"
"They have to make sure I fit the criteria but the way Miss Sands was talking, I think I'm in."
"Good. You're going to breeze it."
"Hang on. I'm not some savant genius that it comes just like that." She snapped her fingers. "I work hard for my marks."
"I know you work hard, Maeve. I've seen you, always studying, always taking notes. And look at all the marks you got for other people at the same time. Like Adam. I just mean… you're going to excel at whatever they ask of you."
"Maybe."
"What are they going to ask of you?"
"I'll talk to Miss Sands next week. Find out."
"You're not worried about being among the other smart kids, are you?"
"I don't know who they are. Could be real dickheads."
"Well, you're used to dealing with dickheads."
Maeve flicked a crisp at him, smiling. "Yeah. I put up with you, don't I?"
Otis sat across from Maeve and watched the movement of the cards within her hands. She finished shuffling and began dealing.
"To make things even," Otis began, "you get three bangles."
"Four. I'm not taking my pants off.
"Okay, four bangles."
"So that's two shoes, two socks, boxers, jeans and shirt? Right?"
"And skirt, top, bra and four bangles."
Maeve looked at the cards in her hand and put down the first pair face down in front of herself. "You should just take your shoes and socks off," she said.
"The more we have on, the greater the anticipation when we have nothing on. Or next to nothing," he amended.
Otis studied his cards then put two pairs face down in front of himself. He held out his cards to Maeve.
"I can still remember what you look like. I have a good memory," Maeve said as she reached out and took a card from his hand.
"Okay, that means I never have to get naked again. You can just work from memory."
"I did last night," Maeve murmured.
Otis hesitated, then asked, "Do you get particularly aroused during your period? I know some women do."
"Sometimes. Sometimes I'll fan the fur so much I rub my clit raw. Sometimes I'll fan it just because it takes the edge off and not because I'm buzzing. Why are you asking?" she asked with a smirk in her voice.
"Just wondering," Otis said, noncommittally.
"I'm feeling really cuddly but my engine doesn't feel as if it's humming into overdrive."
"I'm not turning you on?" Otis mock-pouted.
"I didn't say that."
"Do you think I could…?" he asked, hesitantly.
"What?"
"If you do… fan your fur, do you think I could help?"
"I don't know," Maeve said, uncertainly. "Might be a bit much, sorry."
"It's okay. I don't want to increase your discomfort."
"We can see."
"So it really does make you feel better?"
"Yeah. Most times. Definitely relieves the cramps."
"So do you still have cramps at the moment?"
She nodded. "Not a lot but I still notice something there. The other days felt worse."
"But this isn't a bad month?"
"No. This is actually a really good month. But a wank still helps. Helps me sleep, if nothing else."
Otis took a card from Maeve's hand and laid down the pair on the table.
"I can sleep out here again tonight," he said. "The lounge is comfortable."
"It's okay. You can sleep in the bed with me."
"Well, if you feel uncomfortable, just kick me out."
"I'll body slam you out of bed, okay, if I start to feel—Shit," Maeve said as she held the queen in her hand.
"Okay, first bangle," Otis said, waggling his fingers at her to hand it over.
Maeve reached under her top and began removing her bra.
"You look like a contortionist," Otis said, as he watched her.
"Next time, I'm getting a front-opener," Maeve muttered.
"That's what I can get you for your birthday."
Maeve finally dragged her bra from her sleeve and tossed it against Otis' bare chest.
"I'm not trusting you to buy a bra for me. Sorry, muppet," Maeve said as she shoved the cards together and began shuffling.
"You can come with me."
"You turned beetroot when I asked you my cup size. I can imagine you in the shop when you're asking the girl for a 34C that opens in the front and looks really sexy."
"I wouldn't be asking for a really sexy bra."
"Why not? I told you, I don't want practical. I can buy practical for myself," Maeve said as she began dealing. "Besides, a boob man should have an excellent sense of sexy when it comes to bras."
Otis opened his mouth to protest then closed it again, reconsidering. "I'll let you buy your own bra," he muttered as he picked up his cards.
"So when's your birthday?" Maeve asked, smirking.
"March."
"There's that much difference between us?"
"Eric says I'm your toy-boy."
"Wouldn't call Jawbreaker a toy."
"Did you have to repeat a year?"
Maeve shook her head. "Late start. Mum kept moving us around. I didn't know why. Turns out she was following her boyfriends-slash-dealers."
Otis studied his cards closely, then put the matching pairs on the table before himself.
"Don't give me that look," Maeve murmured as she placed her own matching pairs before herself.
"I just wish things had been different for you," Otis said quietly and held out his cards for her to choose.
"Well, they weren't," Maeve said matter-of-factly as she selected a card from his hand.
"I suppose we'd never have started hanging out if you were in the year ahead of me," Otis murmured.
"You said it was pure dumb luck people getting together."
"It's not what I meant, but yeah, luck like that does play a huge part in everything."
"Sliding Doors," Maeve said.
"We were getting along really well after… when I…"
"What?"
"When we were texting each other the dirty pictures."
Maeve hesitated a moment, then said with a smile, "When I began falling in love with you."
"That's it. You say that but… if I had been able to give Jackson back the money and I didn't do the shit with the Big Romantic Gesture… do you think we would have got together?"
"Lots of variables, muppet," Maeve said, pondering as she selected a card from his hand. "If he didn't know about Sylvia Plath and Sløtface, I wouldn't have been seeing him in a new light so whatever he would have tried instead probably would have begun to really annoy me so I would have probably dumped him."
"But that still doesn't mean that you'd get together with me."
"Maybe I would have asked if you wanted to be my new fuck buddy."
"I still don't know how I would have responded to that."
"The one I keep thinking of is if you'd asked me to help you get off the first time instead of Lily."
"That would never have happened."
"Why not? You liked me."
"Can you imagine me coming to you at the end of a clinic session and saying, 'By the way, Maeve. You know how I said I was a virgin and you said that I should keep it quiet because it would be bad for business. Well, I was wondering if you could help me rectify that situation? Purely for professional reasons, of course.'"
"I would have had my knickers off in a flash."
"Yeah, right," said Otis, sceptically.
"You could have talked about how being a virgin was troubling you and you just wished there was someone thoughtful enough to assist you in not being a virgin anymore. Appealed to my better nature."
"Do you have one?"
Maeve laughed in shock and threw her cards at him. "Fuck you."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he said, holding up his hands placatingly and trying to conceal his grin.
"You fucking arsehole," she said as she picked her paired cards from the table and threw them at him as well, still laughing.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't resist," he said. "That was such a straight line."
"Fuck you with a rusty chainsaw, sideways," Maeve said as her laughter began to settle.
"I didn't mean it. You're—"
"I know you're joking, muppet. If I thought you were serious, I'd already be dragging you out to where the rest of them are buried."
Otis began gathering her cards then realised. "Hey, I won."
"What?" asked Maeve, sharply puzzled.
"You threw your cards away. I won."
"No, we just do this round again."
"You forfeited the game. Come on," he said, waggling his fingers upward.
"Bullshit."
"Come on, Maeve. Release the squirrels."
"You fucking arsehole," she giggled in disbelief as she grabbed the hem of her top.
Maeve watched Otis as his struggles beneath the table were reflected in the movements of his upper body.
"Just stand up," she said, shaking her head in bafflement.
"I'm not giving you a preview," Otis grunted.
"I've already seen the main feature."
"I can just…" he grunted, then collapsed, frustrated.
Maeve watched as he slid out of the breakfast nook and stood, jeans unbuckled and unzipped and halfway uncovering his boxers. He hastily turned around and dragged his jeans down, his boxers starting to accompany them.
"Buttcrack," Maeve said.
Otis hastily dragged his boxers up, then reached down to tug at each leg of his jeans until they were removed and in his hands. He began folding them.
"Just toss 'em," Maeve ordered.
Otis tossed his jeans onto the lounge then Maeve watched him reach down and adjust himself then appreciated his bulge as he quickly turned and sat down.
"So modest," she murmured. "Jawbreaker obviously loves Chip and Dale."
"Just… trying not to spoil you," Otis said as he began gathering the cards.
"Too late, muppet. You spoiled me ages ago, even without your cock in the picture."
Otis began shuffling the deck.
"So we're even," he said. "Next one determines the winner."
"We forgot to determine the stakes."
"Another dinner," Otis said, shrugging as if it was obvious.
"No," Maeve groaned. "Something sexy this time."
"What?"
"I don't know. If I win, we have sex in the pool after school one afternoon."
"What? No," said Otis, horrified.
"Not next week, obviously. Unless—"
"I'm not having sex in the pool. We'll be caught and you said you weren't an exhibitionist."
"Well," Maeve said, dragging out the word, pondering, before an idea occurred and she straightened. "You were telling me about the inlet down near the table and bench your dad built. Down there. We can have sex down there."
"Um…," Otis said, dubiously.
"Come on," Maeve gently urged. "You said nobody would be able to see us."
Otis sighed. "Okay."
"You're sure? I mean, I really want you to do it, but you have to be really willing."
"I'm sure," Otis said, a little brighter.
"Great," Maeve said, happily. "So what about you? What do you want?"
"I don't know," Otis groaned.
"Okay, how about… open-ended? If you win, then when you think of something, we'll do that. I mean, I'll have to agree but—"
"When we have sex the first time, we do it in Aimee's bathroom," Otis interrupted quickly, as if the thought had just occurred to him.
Maeve stared at him, mouth hanging open for so long that Otis began to squirm in embarrassment.
"I'm sorry," he began. "It was just…"
"No, no, muppet. It's just… I'm not sure that would count as your win."
Otis looked at her quizzically.
"I've been thinking about where we might do it the first time and… I've been thinking about that as well," she said sheepishly.
"I know you'll have to ask Aimee. You can tell her why, if you want. I mean, my dream."
"She won't care. I'll just say 'We want' and she'll say, 'Go for it, pet.'"
"You don't think it's stupid?"
Maeve shook her head. "No. But now I don't know whether I want to win or lose."
"Well, whichever one of us wins, we can always do the other person's idea anyway."
"Deal," said Maeve, firmly.
Otis began dealing the cards. "Would you be willing to wear the same dress you were wearing the night of the party?"
"Everything will be the same. And you'll have to wear that hat."
"I'd already thrown the hat away in my dream."
"Doesn't matter. You have to wear that hat."
"If Eric will lend it to me again."
Maeve squirmed in her seat then finally lifted her hands from beneath the table and tossed her skirt at Otis.
"Satisfied?" she asked, sitting back.
"I won. Winning feels very satisfying."
"Still feels unfair, since we'll just be doing something I want to do anyway."
"It doesn't matter."
"Are you sure there isn't something else you want me to do?"
"No, it's fine."
"I can dress up as Margot Robbie, Psycho Chick."
Otis went red and murmured, "I don't think she was really comfortable in that costume."
"But you liked it, didn't you?" Maeve smirked.
Otis groaned. "She was very… attractive… but I couldn't help thinking how much pressure was put on her to appear that sexualised. I know she's said that she came to realise the outfit fit the character and the character wore it because the pants were sparkly and not because she wanted people checking out her arse, but when they have shots of the other characters checking out her arse and then they show a shot of her arse…"
"Classic objectification."
"And when they have the shot where she's getting dressed and they pan up past her shorts and her bra before she puts the t-shirt on…"
"That's the male gaze for you."
"There's so much of it."
"I can think of the Chrises for the female gaze. A few others. But the numbers are overwhelmingly in favour of the male gaze."
"I think that sort of thing is why I'm so confused about objectification versus appreciation."
"I won't confuse you any more than you already are, then."
"I'll try to think of something."
"So when you thought about her, what were you doing?"
"What?"
"Margot Robbie. Not sex, I assume, since you freaked out about dreaming of me naked."
"No," said Otis, sheepishly. "Just kissing a little. Cuddling. Playing Zelda.""
"So you are living out your Margot Robbie fantasies with me? That's it, I'm changing the hair."
"You don't play video games."
"Superficial detail. Substitute Strip Queen."
Otis suddenly had an inspiration. "Come with us to London for Christmas."
"What?"
"I've just thought of something. Come with us. Don't think about it. Just come."
Maeve looked at him dubiously. "Won't your grandfather want it to be just the two of you?"
"Gramps'll be fine with it. We'll just have to sleep in separate rooms. Come with us. Make the decision now," he urged. "I can't think of anything else."
"I said something sexy."
"We can sneak between rooms."
"You haven't even asked Jean yet."
"She'll say yes."
Maeve thought for a moment then a smile flickered across her lips. "Okay. Thanks."
"There's so much we can do. Lots of places I think you'll like."
Maeve softly gazed across the table at him. "Muppet?" she asked, biting her lip.
"Hmmm?" he asked,
"What are you wearing?"
Author's Notes: Apologies if I've just demonstrated I didn't understand The Bell Jar. I'm a little thick.
