“Aunt Elisabeth,” the woman who runs the daycare place is roughly our age, rides a motorcycle, has a tattoo, is still in good shape, has a fairly dark tan and is wearing a short white dress.
And a white bra, and white thong.
Gamma is a fish of some sort, with blue hair and glitter. No, she tells me, she’s water.
Some father is looking Beta over way too closely, and for way too long. I resist, barely, the urge to stick his head in a mop bucket and step on the pedal a few times.
My potato salad went extremely fast. In part because it is just so damn good, in part because Gamma was flogging it to all her friends.
“Aunt Elisabeth” is still wearing that thong.
That pervert is still ogling my beautiful 13-year-old daughter. Seriously, where’s the mop bucket? Oh, here comes his wife…
Gamma’s daycare person, Gabi, divulges to Beta and me where the good desserts are hidden. While everyone else is sitting outside in the hot sun, we sneak inside the house and gorge on stolen desserts.
I go back outside and discover that, if I only relax and ask a few questions (THANKS FRANCIS), I can make conversation. At one point a mother praises the potato salad. Alpha tells her I made it. She says, “Oh, you can cook!” and I just barely keep from saying, “Yeah, and I can fuck, too.” Later I regret not having said it.
Aunt Thong walks by again.
People start drifting out. Gamma is burying some boy in the sand. It will be up to me to talk her into leaving, Alpha says. Gamma, like the rest of us, is usually the last to leave a party.
I use the America card. I say, in two minutes we are leaving, because you have to tank up on sleep for our trip to see the relatives.
To my great surprise, when I come back in two minutes, she does not even protest! She goes along with us without incident.
It turns out to be harder to get Alpha to leave.
Beta beats up on me for a while, because this is how we show our affection sometimes. I beat up on her a little too.
We make it home with no tears, although Gamma makes everything blue and glittery.