Is it Just Me?
Only Christina was about to repay Petra’s delicious food with the meal from the planet zog.
Christina let out an irritated noise as mixture flicked out of the bowl. She put down her whisk for a moment and surveyed the splatters on her cream tiles. Try as she might, she could not get the mousse to turn remotely mousse-like: it was just a bowl of chocolate and hazelnut slop. She blinked away the prickling feeling in her eyes that was threatening to turn into tears. Why had she done this?
She turned her back on the bowl and peered anxiously through the glass door of the oven. The amoretti biscuits didn’t look golden yet. With her luck though, they’d go from underdone to burnt in a nanosecond. She reached up to push strands of sweaty hair out of her eyes. It was so much work given that she’d only be crushing the darn things to sprinkle on top of the non-moussey mousse. The urge to cry had transformed into hysterical giggles that threatened to choke her.
She shouldn’t have let Petra get to her. She knew that their life wasn’t as perfect as it looked or sounded. What was more, Petra could afford to take half a day off before a dinner party to get her yuzu grissini perfectly crisp. She had Daniel to lend a helping hand too.
Christina knew all this so why in the name of goodness had she offered to host everyone here? It was just a heat of the moment thing after Petra had revealed her choux pastry dessert and they were all cooing about the trouble she’d gone to for them. It had seemed only fair that someone actually put her money where her mouth was and repay her like for like. Only Christina was about to repay Petra’s delicious food with the meal from the planet zog.
She looked at the clock and felt the need to laugh suddenly die. She only had 20 minutes before they were due to arrive. She’d intended to have another hour at least to get a shower and do her make up. But then Kyle had called her in for that ‘catch up’ and she’d felt honour bound to stay late to prove that she really was trying to do better. Now, she hadn’t changed, the chicken was still in the fridge, she’d forgotten to chill the drinks and even with that extra time put in, she was sure Kyle was still going to fire her next week.
She stared at herself in the stainless steel fridge door. She ought to have just invited everyone round for a film and takeaway pizza like they’d done when they were younger. She’d kill for some greasy cheese and terrible acting. More to the point, she was half convinced everyone else would as well. They couldn’t honestly enjoy small talk over grilled scallops more than explosions over barbeque feast? Or maybe they did and it was her still struggling to catch up. When had life gotten so complicated?
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