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[NO MILK]
*
“What the fuck is this?” Sarah rounded on Nicte, aggressively shaking a milk bottle that was so very nearly empty - there was nothing in the bottom by the time the motion had filmed the inside walls.
“I think you’ll find, Sarah dearest,” Nicte’s stool screeched on the floor as she pushed off the island counter and dropped to her feet. It cost her an inch of height but awarded her the manoeuvrability she sensed she might need, “that is milk.”
Sarah slammed the fridge closed with such ferocity the condiments in the door clinked for a full five seconds afterwards. She gripped the counter, flexing her arms and keeping her back to Nicte.
Tally bounced into the kitchen, “gooooooood morning!” She flicked down the switch on the kettle and floated over to the toaster where she dropped in two halves of a bagel like she was sprinkling fairy dust. She hip bumped Sarah en route to the fridge, causing her to flinch. “Oh!” she announced, “no milk! Not to worry, I think there’s some emergency room temp stuff…” she fidgeted in the cupboards, “yes!” Tally proceeded with preparing her breakfast.
Sarah slackened, spun and lifted herself onto the counter in a controlled, check-out-my-guns manner. Nicte moved quickly, stepping between Sarah’s dangling legs and leaning her elbows on the tops of her thighs. She forced Sarah to meet her eyes and her grin.
“I was just offering Sarah a cup of black coffee,” Nicte smirked, “would you like me to make a batch, Tally?”
Tally fluttered over to them, pecking Nicte on the cheek, “that would be perfect! Always looking after us so well.”
Sarah’s eyes narrowed, her mouth opening to protest as a hand indicated toward the sad-excuse-for-milk. Nicte swapped her elbows for her palms and lifted herself up to Sarah, locking her mouth in a kiss. Sarah’s mouth didn’t respond for the first millisecond, then groaned defeat and sprung to life.
“Aww,” Tally commented, causing the two to break apart, aghast at the implication of any cuteness whatsoever.
*
[YOU’VE MADE YOUR BED]
*
“We need to change the bedding,” Sarah announced as Nicte dragged back the duvet to settle in for the night.
“We need to what ?” Nicte glowered, contrasting hilariously with her minion-patterned pyjama set.
“Ah, Sarah, really?” Tally trudged into the room, dragging her feet exaggeratedly.
“It’s been a week ,” Sarah turned to pull a new set from the top of their wardrobe. She extracted the various components, neatly stowed in an associated pillowcase. Noting the other two had not moved, her head snapped up. “Well, aren’t you going to make a start?”
Nicte shook her head like the woman was deranged, pulling apart the duvet seam poppers with a series of clacks . Tally counted it pure luck that it wasn’t a buttoned duvet, as Nicte’s glare hadn’t left Sarah’s ministrations.
“You know,” Nicte started and Tally preemptively recoiled, “ some might say every week is a bit over the top.”
“Only unhygienic people,” Sarah muttered.
Nicte ripped the fitted sheet off the bed in one ferocious pull. Tally gathered the debris from across the room, bundling it in her arms and stuffing it into the laundry basket. Sarah cast out the sheet in the air, Nicte catching the other end. They both moved towards the head of the bed, lifting the mattress in unison. They fought over the fabric like a dog with a particularly juicy bone. Tally rolled her eyes as the two idiots began to physically sweat for the effort of supporting their foot-deep super king mattress while having a tug-of-war with the sheet.
“Ahem,” Tally interrupted, her arms crossed.
While Sarah made to explain her behaviour, Nicte tucked her side in and dumped the mattress with an air of victory. Sarah fixed hers and the pair moved to the end of the bed. Not wanting a repeat, Tally elbowed Nicte away and pointed to the pillows.
“Ridiculous bed-changing frequency,” Nicte grumbled, stuffing a pillow forcefully into its brushed cotton skin.
“Well when you factor in the fact that there are THREE of us,” Sarah protested.
“Wait,” Nicte slowed her punishment of a pillow, something dawning on her, “no…” she narrowed her eyes at Sarah.
“What?!” Sarah retaliated to the silence that followed, clearly worried where this was going.
“Is this why you’re so obsessed with having sex on the floor?” Nicte challenged, moving her hands, and the pillow, to her hip, “to reduce bed-traffic?”
Sarah’s indignance faltered when she almost began to defend herself. Tally pinched the bridge of her nose, waiting for the onslaught.
“You OCD-riddled wagon,” Nicte declared, firing the pillow at a stunned Sarah. “My poor back, for your clean sheets.” Nicte slumped dramatically forward onto the half-made bed, convulsing in laughter.
Tally covered her mouth but her chuckles bubbled through her fingers, glancing apologetically at Sarah. Sarah’s mortification softened into dismay, then amusement. Tally, satisfied it was safe to move, jumped on Nicte, earning a melodramatic noise from the older woman who then tickled her ruthlessly. Sarah picked up her chosen pillow and beat the crap out of the pair of them mercilessly.
*
[NEXT STEPS]
*
“I’ve opened a joint account for us,” Sarah informed them one evening.
“You did what?” Nicte frowned, lowering a glass of wine from her lips.
“A joint bank account, I thought it was an appropriate next step,” Sarah defended.
Tally snorted, regretting it instantly as she drew a terrifying glare from the pair. She dropped her gaze back to her wine as if begging it to engulf her.
“Well I don’t have any money, so I don’t see how joint it could be,” Nicte scoffed, fidgeting in her chair.
“Well I made some investments at the turn of the century, so we’re well set,” Sarah returned to her book, changing a page casually.
“Which century?” Nicte growled, setting her glass of wine down before she fractured the stem.
Nicte hated being anything but independent. She stood up, pinching her waist with her hands and began pacing, drawing both Tally and Sarah’s wary stares. Sarah closed her book, sighing.
“Would you like me to show you the app?” Sarah suggested, reaching for her phone with both hands.
“ You have an app?” Tally raised an incredulous eyebrow.
“Yes, the nice lady showed me how at the bank,” Sarah admitted nonchalantly.
Tally and Nicte both approached Sarah’s armchair, kneeling down either side and leaning in for the entertainment. Sarah prodded her phone screen aggressively with a useless nail time and time again.
“Sarah you need to use your finger tip-” Tally began.
“Yes! Yes!” Sarah swatted at her like a fly, “I know.”
Nicte looked at Tally as if a goat had control of the launch codes to blow up the world.
“Ah!” Sarah announced, rocking forward a little, “here it is.”
Tally issued Nicte a warning give-her-a-chance type look. Glacially, Sarah entered her series of passwords and identification questions. Finally, the list of accounts sprung up.
- Nicte’s 60th
- Wedding savings
- Rainy day fund
- Current account
Nicte glowed crimson, “my… 60th?!” she croaked.
“Wedding savings?” Tally gasped.
“Oh,” Sarah murmured, “you weren’t supposed to see those. Anyway, this is the one we want,” she punched the current account tile.
Tally and Nicte’s jaws dropped in unison.
“So, the lovely lady said that you two could both set-up an application on your mobile devices too!” Sarah beamed between them, “oh, and your cards will arrive within five working days, the pincode is my birthday.”
Silence stretched and Sarah’s smile faltered. “What is it?” Sarah issued the slightest pout, having been so proud at her technological achievement.
“That’s how much money you have?” Tally spoke slowly.
“ We ,” Sarah corrected before continuing seriously, “and no, not at all, the majority is invested, I have a long standing advisor, very intelligent woman, you’d get along with her, Tally.”
Sarah was annoyed to note none of her words seemed to be registering with either of her partners. She huffed, slumping back into the chair. Tally grasped her forearm and beckoned Nicte’s attention.
“I don’t even know how to say that number out loud,” Nicte mumbled, eventually turning to consider Sarah.
“So,” Tally stalled, “we’re rich?”
Sarah frowned, “well, I guess I never thought about it that way.”
“That’s it,” Nicte stood up immediately, striding away and grabbing her laptop as she left.
“Where are you going?!” Tally shouted after her.
“I’m buying a fucking boat!” Nicte yelled from the next room.
*
[LEARNER DOMESTIC CHAMP]
*
“What are you doing ?” Sarah groaned, dragging her palms down her cheeks with dismay.
Nicte turned ten-days-in-the-desert-red, eye twitching. Her shoulders trembled as if her head were a volcano destined to erupt. She dramatically dropped the oversized bundle of clothes in her arms, casting her hands wide as if indicating a throw down. Socks, underwear and all sorts sprayed out onto the tiled utility room floor between them. Sarah surveyed the chaos with a forced calm, wriggling a bra cup free from the toe of her slipper. That was it.
“YOU ASKED ME TO DO MORE AROUND THE HOUSE,” Nicte bellowed, “SO HERE I AM, UP AT THE CRACK OF FUCKING DAWN,” she indicated to the clock [it was 10am]. “SLAVING AWAY!” [it was the first load]. “AND YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO GIVE ME SHIT?” her breathing was laboured.
Sarah opened her mouth slowly, taking a half-step forward, her stance relaxed.
“NO, NO, NO,” Nicte wagged her finger, “DON’T YOU TRY PULL ANY OF THAT SEXY SHIT ON ME” [Sarah was not trying to be sexy]. “YOU HAVE NO APPRECIATION FOR THE EFFORT I AM MAKING - FUCKING NONE” [none was not far off]. She leaned on the edge of the washing machine to ground herself.
Sarah puffed out her cheeks and exhaled with intense exasperation, eyes wide as they found the ceiling. Nicte genuinely growled at the woman approaching her. Sarah’s outstretched forearm glanced Nicte’s, as it reached behind her, their eyes locked in a stare. Nicte forced a breath out of her nostrils, as if willing it to form pillars of threatening smoke.
Sarah sighed, turning away, the box of laundry capsules tucked under her arm.
“Wait? Where are you going with those,” Nicte started after her, “I’m about to put a wash on here,” she gestured wildly around the floor at the chaos.
“Not with dishwasher tabs you’re not,” Sarah informed her plainly.
*
[THE WINE DELIVERY]
*
The doorbell rang mid-morning. Sarah was out picking up a few things but she had advised Tally, no fewer than six times, that her wine delivery would be arriving while she was out. Tally turned down the page of her book and set it aside, pushing herself from her armchair. She smiled as she caught sight of the young delivery guy overloading a two-wheeled trolley with boxes. Tally knew a Sarah-sized wine order would take at least three runs.
She opened the door, dimples on display as she considered the red-faced human huffing up the driveway towards her. As he completed his ascent, he quickly tilted the load for a break, though acted like he didn’t need one. As his gaze met Tally’s, he frowned.
“Delivery for Sarah Alder?” he asked, craning his neck to get a view into the large house behind Tally.
“Yes,” Tally mirrored his movements slightly to refocus his attention on her, “I’ll be accepting the order.”
“Oh,” he responded, “well I’m going to need to see your ID ma’am.”
Tally froze. First, a feeling of annoyance washed over her. She was twenty-six now and fed up of being ID’d, she cursed herself for smiling knowing it took ten years off. Next, a smugness took hold. She was twenty-six now and still being ID’d, she praised herself for the win and offered thanks to her moisturising regime. Lastly, all of this was drowned out by complete fear. Tally’s ID was in her locker at Fort Salem. She wouldn’t make twenty-seven if Sarah came home to the distinct absence of wine.
Wary that she now looked like a desperate woman as well as an underage one, Tally started to properly panic, sweat and everything.
Think Tally, think. How low cut is your top? No… you’re being called out for being underage that’s… not… okay no. Think. Think. Think. NICTE!
“NICTE?!” Tally bellowed, causing the man to flinch as spit sprayed.
She giggled awkwardly, “just one minute, please, don’t go.”
He leaned on the boxes, looking thoroughly unimpressed. He tossed his hand lazily, giving Tally the trigger she needed, sprinting upstairs to find Nicte.
“Nicte,” Tally burst into the bedroom, grabbing the duvet and reefing it off her slumbering partner. To Tally’s bewilderment, Nicte continued to snore lightly, sprawled face down across more bed than a woman her size should be able to take up. “NICTE?!” Tally screamed not a metre from her head.
Nicte windstruck herself off the bed, landing gracefully in a crouched position on the other side of the room, head swivelling, teeth bared and eyes blinking the sleep away.
“Oh for the love of the goddess, Nicte,” Tally groaned, “calm down, I need you to sign for Sarah’s wine, the dude thinks I look too young. You’re welcome for that, by the way.” Tally finished with a smirk that was absolutely the wrong move.
“Sarah’s wine?” Nicte growled, “you frightened the shit out of me, for Sarah’s fucking wine?”
Tally, realising she was losing a battle she didn’t mean to start, grabbed Nicte’s arm and began forcefully tugging her down the stairs. Surprisingly, she came willingly. Tally, a few steps ahead, lightened her drag but maintained a grip on Nicte as she stooped to get a view on the delivery dude. She breathed easy on confirming he was still there.
Tally arrived on the doorstep, panting and indicating behind her, “here,” she announced, “Nicte will sign for it.”
The driver considered Tally and Nicte as if they were mad, “you have got to be kidding me.”
Tally rounded on Nicte to find a spotty teenager grinning back at her, braces and all. The picture was completed by her trademark patterned pyjamas, today’s featured multicoloured cartoon dinosaurs. Tally pinched the bridge of her nose, disbelief nowhere to be found. She resorted to farspeech.
“Sarah, you better get your ass back here.”
***