Honey Daiquiri
Maybe Donald Trump being elected is a good idea; clearly the rapture will shortly follow #VoteTrump #BeamMeUp
by Miniq Brown
Helper Honey
… And a happy new year! I don’t know about you, but Uspent the week before Christmas drugged up and in hospital until Daks and I broke out. I spend the subsequent days regretting it thoroughly while I decided which cheek was least painful to sleep on, and the year was seen in deep in intellectual conversation at watchnight service. All in all, I call that 2015 success.
So, looking forward, ignoring the pain, I have decided to change the dialogue for 2016. I’m not going to be this weepy, pathetic, childless person awaiting gynae surgery- yeah, the surgeons were desperate to cut stuff so I might as well let them, don’t want to think about where the probe goes. I, instead, will be Helper Honey. Honey the Hero! That’s right people, I have decided to be-
‘A foster carer!’ I exclaim to Kara and Daiquiri as I pour another round of tequila sunrises at my kitchenette counter.
Cue the fireworks.
I am not met by the rambunctious applause I deserve. In fact, Daks and Kara stare at me with mirrored blank expressions.
‘A foster carer,’ Kara says flatly. ‘Are you going to start day-drinking and yelling at children?’
‘Start?’ Daks adds, accepting a drink.
‘I think this role is abuse optional.’
‘You’re just going to be taking care of people’s troubled kids?’ Kara continues. ‘Are you not afraid one might murder you?’
‘They’re foster kids, not juvenile delinquents, and I’m interested in fostering babies, under twos. Kids whose parents were just no prepared to have babies and so I step in, allow them room to get themselves together while their child is in safe hands, and eventually help with the transition once child and social services say so.’
The two nod slowly absorbing the information, perhaps thawing to the idea.
‘So you’re going to have all the pooping, the crying, teething, sleepless nights, and then have to hand them back after a couple of months?’
‘Not dissimilar to you and your sister, except I’ll get paid,’ I smirk. Kara scowls and I take a sip of my cocktail to dodge.
‘Aren’t you scared you’ll get attached to them?’ Daks asks. I take a seat at the table.
‘Yes,’ I shrug. ‘I spoke to Aunt Vonney about it. She said that when she first started as a foster mom she had this newborn. Tiny, malnourished little thing that would shake all day, every day, begging to be held. The baby was days old and suffering withdrawal. Born with class A drugs in his system. She held that baby, cried with that baby, loved that baby, for all of three weeks before she passed him on down the line. I asked Aunt Vonney if that crushed her soul and destroyed her universe and she said, “naturally”. But someone had to love that baby. That baby got to start his life with love, and that is one of the most honourable things you can do for someone.’
Daks and Kara take a breath and another sip of their cocktails.
‘I don’t mean to be devil’s advocate here, but is there a possibility that you might be projecting? The whole endo thing took you by surprise and so now you’re just reacting? Have you thought this through?’
‘I have,’ I answer my little sister. ‘Besides, I really need to around children right now. Like, really.’
‘Creepers be like,’ Daks mumbles.
‘Yeah, I wouldn’t say that in your interview,’ Kara piles on.
And thus it is settled. I am going to be a foster mom.
An hour later Bic comes over to pick Daiquiri up. I’m still stunned she let this boy know where I live. I’m not anti-social… LOL who am I kidding, but I am very particular about who I let into my home. And although I knew Bic first and he seems non-serial-killery enough to date my sister, it ain’t that deep. Him coming to my home was a big step and slightly uninvited.
Once he leaves, Kara gives me a knowing nod.
‘Cute, right?’ I smile.
‘His glasses are precious.’
‘You mean his bottle tops?’
‘I can’t believe Daiquiri has a boyfriend!’
‘She is about to turn eighteen.’
‘Stop it! I can only see her as this ten-year-old little girl who followed you everywhere.’
‘Yeah,’ I sigh reminiscently, ‘that was annoying.’
‘And now she’s all grown up!’
‘She had her first kiss you know.’
‘Omigod! When?!’
‘Christmas.’
‘With Bic?’
‘Well, yeah…’
‘Aw, that’s so cute.’ Kara smiles broadly and sips yet another fresh round of cocktails. ‘So what are the odds that your baby sister is having sex right now?’
‘What! No! Why!’ I scream as almost one word and try to ignore the burning sensation of alcohol making its way down the wrong compartment and the tears that sting my eyes. ‘I just said she had her first kiss, why would you- urgh!’ And now I’m trying to fight the urge to gag.
‘What? It’s not unreasonable,’ Kara reasons.
‘Yes. It is. Totally unreasonable.’
‘She’s nearly eighteen!’
‘Is there a time limit?’
‘You really think she’s still a virgin?’
‘YES.’
‘But look at her boobs!’
‘And that means what exactly?’
‘There’s no way some guy hasn’t tried to take a feel.’
‘That doesn’t mean she’s let them!’
Kara giggles. It’s clearly time I take the alcohol away.
‘Daiquiri is a good girl,’ I reassure- myself.
‘I don’t doubt that, but remember what we were like at that age?’
I take a contemplative moment to remember myself at seventeen. Wearing a leotard, prancing around the theatre block at BRIT on my lunch break performing ‘Defying Gravity’ to a grand old audience of no one.
‘Yeah… totally,’ I answer. ‘But no, Daks is a good, Christian girl.’
‘That’s how we all start,’ Kara says knowingly, and I am slightly disconcerted that she keeps including me in this “we”. ‘And then we have that first boyfriend. Not the high school one, like, that first real no school walls, boyfriend. Remember that?’
Yeah… I do.
From the diary of Marie Sax
July 2010
Whit and I are broken up. Officially. I don’t even really think you can say we were dating, it was more like advanced friendship with the occasionally tearful heartfelt confession- his, not mine. I tried my best to make it easy on him, I took him to a public place so he wouldn’t make a scene. And everything was fine until I got home and he called me to ask what we were doing tomorrow. I’m like, ‘Er, nothing, ex…’ and he’s like, ‘Huh?’ And then it got messy. Real messy. His parents called my parents, it was… a shambles. But I’m free. It’s over. Onwards For Honey Marie Sax.
‘Do you think Danarty likes me?’
‘Dan?’ Kara had scoffed. ‘You’re the cocaine. He is the straw.’
‘I don’t know what that means.’
‘He is snorting you up girl.’
And so there I was, waiting after basketball, butterflies in my stomach, for Danarty Matthews to come out of the changing rooms.
‘Marie?’ came a voice from behind me, and I near enough jumped out of my denim mini-skirt.
‘Oh, Dan, hey!’ I squealed, and instantly wanted to zip my cardigan up over my face. On the bright side, He Knew My Name! Although, everyone knows my name at basketball, I’m not exactly quiet on the court- N/B, nobody Dare call me Honey at ball, it’s just not about that life.
‘What you doing waiting out here?’ he asked, his voice smooth. He always reminds me of LL Cool J… Hm… LL Cool J…
‘Uh, what?’ I gasped. Articulate.
‘Are you waiting for Whitaker?’
‘Oh! No, we no, we breaked, we… uh.’ MAKE WORDS HONEY! ‘We’re no longer seeing each other,’ I corrected.
‘Shame,’ he said.
‘Depends on how you look at it,’ I smiled coyly, and then, don’t you dare bite your lip, I scolded myself. I tend to go from flirty to trashy in a hot minute. ‘Where are you off to now, home?’ I said to give my lips something to do.
‘Yeah,’ he answered cooly as he retrieved his headphones.
‘Nice Beats!’
‘Yeah, I got them for my birthday last week.’
‘My birthday was last week too!’
‘No way?’
‘What day?!’
‘The twelfth.’
‘That’s MY Birthday!’ Dear God, stop exclaiming things, but also, both of our birthdays are on July twelfth, Omg, it’s a sign.
‘Hey, there’s a fayre at Mitcham Common at the moment. You want to go this weekend?’ Dan smiled with bright white teeth, wow his teeth were perfect.
‘Uh, yeah, sure,’ I tried my best to make the hesitation sound real.
‘Great. Want me to pick you up?’
‘Nah, it’s cool. I’ll meet you there.’ Honey Marie Sax you are cooler than A.C. Slater (#MarioLopez #SavedByTheBell).
‘Okay. I’ll text you.’ Dan smirked again, my stomach plummeted. He brushed my cheek with the back of his hand and I damn near lost consciousness before he swaggered away.
‘Omigod,’ I breathed to myself, and much as I hate to quote High School Musical; maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something new…
… Nah, I can’t stomach it.
There you go.
