for June

11. Sweet Memories

Chad sat in his study, pen in hand, journal open. He hadn't thought it would be easy to write something akin to a memoir, but he hadn't thought it would be this hard. His memories were murky. His childhood, although not fantastic, had enough drama. Though they weren't the most dazzling events, they should have allowed him enough material to bulk up a memoir like a body-builders biceps. At least that's what he felt like he was writing. A memoir from the time June arrived on scene. At the very least, his past should have filled a few chapters, or at a horrid stretch, a few pages.

He threw his pen down. The whole thing made his stomach churn anxiously. Terry had called the last night, wanting to see how he was going and he had confidently, perhaps too confidentially told her he was going as well as a shark swimming in a school of anchovies. However, in reality, he was stuck between two sordid sentences.

'I was a young five-year-old with an unusual height on me,' and 'Jo was always making me feel short because she was a centimetre taller, despite only being five minutes older.'

What the hell is this? He stared at the two sentences. "And in which world do those two facts sound remotely clever or intriguing, Chaddy!" he muttered in mock-Terry voice with his hands on his hips. Not that he'd ever seen Terry do that. One hand maybe, with a tilt of her head that meant business. Either way, mock-Terry was right. Those were two of the worst sentences he had ever strung together.

He reached for his phone and scrolled the contact list until he found the name he was looking for. Jo.

"Yellow!" He heard her stretch her word out. "What do you want?"

"Oh, hi, Chad, how are you?" he mocked. "What are you doing?"

"Birthing an elephant. You want to come and help?"

So abrupt was her question that a snippet of his dream where Jo had been 'pregnant' flashed across his mind. "I didn't know you were preggers with an elephant," he replied flatly.

"Not funny, Chad!" she barked. He could hear her huffing. "What's up? Still alive, then?"

"Not for long though, I wager."

Jo suddenly laughed. "Terry?"

"Always." There was a moment of silence, and Chad wondered if the line had cut off. Sometimes parts of the zoo where his sister worked had little to no reception. "Jo?"

"Yeah," she grunted. "I'm seriously helping a mama elephant birth a baby elephant I can't imagine pushing out myself, so unless Terry is in your house right now wielding a very sharp letter opener, I'll have to call you later." The line went dead as she was saying, "Call ya later."

Chad crinkled his nose at the dial tone. Then he called his mum. "You busy? I'm coming over."

"Sure, bring a bottle of red. I'm fresh out." Chad's mum was always 'fresh out' of wine whenever her children were coming over. Ever since her husband up and left one day nearly ten years ago, she had taken up drinking wine like it was a newfound hobby. She was always ready for 'at least' a glass, which usually turned to two, then three and so on until either the wine ran out, or she fell asleep, drooling.

As Chad grabbed his car keys and headed out, he remembered, between June, Setal and himself, for the first time in a year, his own house was 'dry'. Time for a restock.

♡

Chad meandered along the aisles with an empty trolley. What was he going to do with his miserable memoir sans novel? He'd begun from the moment he'd bought two first-class tickets to Thailand with the plan to pop the question and come back engaged.