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Stewed Apricots

April 15, 2013

Andrew A and I walked through the desert towards the desert house. It was quite a long way, but Andrew has a good sense of direction, and it wasn’t too hot. It took us all day to get there. Aunt Janis was waiting for us when we arrived. She had made us a salad for dinner. It was perfect.

Later that evening, I was ready to walk back to Dunedin. Andrew was very drunk, so I left him to sober up. Angela walked with me; she wanted some company, and needed a bassinet from home.

It was already late, so the desert was pitch black. I said that we had to keep our eyes on the faint orange dot. That particular dot was the house we needed to get to, and we had to ignore the other dots. We got lost. After several cold, worrying hours in the dark desert, we came across a school that I walked past several days earlier. It wasn’t the way we walked earlier in the day, but now I knew the way back to the house.

When we got there, Mum was packing the car for their trip to Nagasaki. The timing was a bit of a shame. She said that Fiona was “in one of her moods.” I went inside. Dad seemed pleased to see me. Fiona took the big pot of stewed apricots from the stove and poured it behind the stereo. Dad and I were exasperated. He grumbled, and I set to work cleaning it up. When mum came in, I told her that Fiona shouldn’t be going on the trip with them. It would be nicer without her. I knew mum was too nice for that.

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