The Disastrous Love Lives of the Delaney Family

3.11 Peter Lindburgh

"I'm going to move out of Sera and Léa's flat."

It's family dinner night and my announcement has piqued everyone's interest. Looking around the table, Dad's eyebrows are furrowed, Mum nods while processing the information, Owen smiles in what I assume is an encouraging statement, Levi smiles at me but I think he's only doing it to either be polite or because he doesn't know that to do, and Sera pouts.

"Is this because I wouldn't help you with asking Bronwen out?"

I cast my gaze over to my sister. "No, although now that you raise the matter, I am still annoyed with you for that." Sera rolls her eyes. Stabbing the piece of bland chicken on my plate, I verbalise my rationalisation for why I want to move out. "Unless I mess it up, Bronwen will soon be my girlfriend and I plan on keeping her very satisfied in the bedroom and think it would be awkward for Sera and Léa, plus Spencer and Ethan, to have to listen to that. I know it is awkward for me to have to hear them, therefore, I will not subject them to the same torture. A man does not need to know the sound of his sister faking an orgasm."

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Dad's tone makes me turn to face him but he has his head in his hands. "And here I was under the impression that Martha was the one with the loosest lips of all my kids, but no. Joseph Gabriel Fletcher, you never cease to amaze me."

"Thank you." I continue to eat some of the food Mum made, although I'll never understand the appeal of asparagus. I tolerate it for its texture but the flavour isn't palatable at all. "Mum, I will need your help with the house hunting. You have the best taste in interior design... well, I suppose I could ask uncle Mick or aunt Lyanna but I respect your opinion more than theirs."

The sound of glass breaking to my left makes me snap my head in Mum's direction. I think she had her wine glass raised, ready to drink, when I made my remark and has somehow lost the function of her hand, making the glass slip and fall to the ground. One of the dangers of occupying the end space of the table. 

Dad and Owen quickly come to clean away the glass- one goes to get the dustpan and brush, the other picks up the larger shards- and quickly clear the mess. All the while, Mum stares at me, her mouth hanging open. Unlike when others open and close their mouths as they try to formulate an appropriate response, Mum's mouth remains a black cavern on the front of her face. I do believe that she is speechless. I'm not sure why; my comment cannot have been that much of a shock to her but here she is, mute, nonetheless.

She doesn't speak for the rest of the night. She mutters but mostly, she sticks to sounds of mhm, hmm and ah. Even when she and Dad walk me to the door after I rattled off all the valid reasons I need to leave, Mum barely says a word. She just smiles at me in that motherly way of hers.

"Ok, bye, Dad." I nod in my father's direction. Then turning to my mother, I step forward and engulf her in a tight hug. I count to five; a five-second hug is the most I'm willing, although when I count to five in my head, it's at half the speed I'd usually count. In part, I indulge the hug longer because of the hug she gives me in return. It's firm and safe and it makes me feel loved. "I love you, Mum."