Page 106 of Maladaptive

“I win!” Charlotte announces. “Your turn, Noya.”

“I think my controller is broken,” Noah claims. “First, it thinks I was close to Conner. Now it keeps making me fall off the map.”

He tosses the controller onto Conner’s lap and leans toward Mr Jones. “Dad, give me yours…” Mr Jones eyes him, forcing Noah to say, “Please.”

Mrs Jones hands Noah the controller and stands. “Dinner is nearly ready. I will set the table.”

“Do you need any help?” Mr Jones asks. “I can get one of the boys to help.”

“Wh—Dad!” Noah barks. “Ineedto beat Conner.”

“Did I say your name?” Mr Jones questions.

“Yes. Literally. Conner is here with his girlfriend, which only leaves me.”

“It’s all right. Enjoy your games,” Mrs Jones says with a hint of laughter.

Part of me wants to offer my services, yet the mere thought of trying to help in a field I’m not very good at scares me more than staying silent and watching Mrs Jones leave the lounge room. If she asks me for a staple ingredient, would I know where it’s located or what it looks like? Unless she’s cooking pasta from a tin or two-minute noodles, I am unsure how useful I’ll be in the kitchen.

“We’re starting,” Charlotte says, pointing to the TV.

I hold the controller and push down the button. This time, I don’t stall but speed forward. The rush is getting too much, and I drive off the cliff, but I got the box, so it isn’t too bad.

We play four more games. Charlotte and I pass the controller between each other. I got the hang of it after the second game when I watched everyone else play. The way they were tactical, taunting, and egging each other on truly amuses me. The fear in Noah’s eyes when he saw Conner with a red shell, and the frustration on Conner’s face whenever he didn’t come first, amused me. He truly is a sore loser.

Mrs Jones calls us into the kitchen when dinner is ready. I check my phone on the way and sigh with relief when there are no new messages or missed calls. I’m having so much fun that I completely forgot I told Andy we would talk sometime tonight, and I’m certainly not looking forward to that conversation. I wouldn’t know where to begin or what he has to say for himself. Even if he apologised and promised never to touch me again, I don’t think we could ever be friends. The thought sickens me.

“You okay?” Conner questions while we sit down. “You kind of went off into your head.”

I blink, noticing him, the surroundings, and that inviting, salivating aroma. “Oh… yeah,” I say, forcing a smile.

The table has glistening plates before each chair. There is a pork roast in the centre, which makes my mouth water at the sight. Roast vegetables around it, with gravy on the side and a garlic bread log.

Sometimes, when I stock the shelves—always near Christmas time—there are massive kilos of pork, lamb, and chicken. I remember Olivia also got me to chop raw vegetables, toss them in a tray, and place them in the refrigerated section. Once we started chopping vegetables, the more sales of vegetables we had. And around Christmas time, the chaos hit the meat section.

I’ve always wanted one. I’d imagine myself sitting at a table like this, surrounded by a loving family. There was no shouting the way it was at home. Vibrancy, love, and a house with no cracks always played in my mind.

Mum would hand over the roast and slide the gravy towards me. Dad would have a beer in his hands, but it didn’t control him. A smile would be on his lips, and he’d ask about my day. No one shouted, screamed, or had food splattered on the ground. The juice from the roast stayed on the plate, not dripping across the wall.

But here, now, at this moment, I watch the life I wanted to unfold. Mrs Jones reaches over with the knife, asking how much I want. Mr Jones helps Charlotte with her drink, and Noah points to the end pieces of garlic bread, already claiming them. Conner has the tongs, grabbing bits of roast vegetables marinating in meaty juices and putting them on his plate. And while we eat, they ask me questions. They aren’t bothered when I pause, cover my mouth as I chew, and they wait until I finish eating to answer. They call Conner out multiple times whenever he grows too excited, talking with his mouth open.

I feel comfortable and at ease. This family makes me feel more at home than the home I have, and I don’t want it to fade. I don’t want this moment to fade. And so, I reach for the box with the phone, and while they eat, I ask if I can take a photo of them. Mr Jones then rises, declaring he hates pictures. He takes the phone from me while Conner grabs my hand and pulls me into him. I grow red, and my eyes widen in shock.

“Saycheese,” Mr Jones calls.

Charlotte raises her hands, doing the peace sign. Mrs Jones leans back, smiling. Noah reaches for the end piece of the garlic bread but freezes mid-reach to smile. Conner rests his chin on my shoulder, grinning. I sag into him and smile, feeling the embarrassment fade.

“Cheese!”

43

CAN WE BE FRIENDS?

It iswarm outside once we leave. Even knowing it is dark and the stars are out, the summer air makes me realise I’m going home to my broken fan, and the air-con doesn’t work. But at least it’s still early. Dad won’t be home yet. He’ll be out all night, then stumble through the door at two in the morning.

Let’s hope he passes out as soon as he opens the door.

Conner turns on the air-con once the car starts up and reverses out of the driveway. My stomach knots when I realise we live closer than I expected. This will be a quick trip, and it is only nine. Perhaps we can talk a little, but I also need to call Andy, and I’d prefer to do that sooner rather than later.