A thousand nights

X

Crackers.

Christmas Crackers.

Never in my whole short existence, I had ever heard of such unidentified objects. They had the appearance of abnormally shaped candies with bright colored wrapping, but with the exception of not containing any candy at all. How disappointing.

'Basically, two people pull at opposite sides of the cracker ' Lauren explained 'and then it should pop, inside the cracker there's always a joke to read out loud and a surprise' Lauren explained calmly as I looked at her puzzled.

Lauren was around thirty and she was good looking, as in really good looking. The type you see on the adverts of some popular hair product brand. She had perfect wavy golden hair that reached her delicate shoulders. She was tall and lean, her skin tone, slightly paler than normal.  She was dressed in a quite formal way - a pair of blue tailored trousers and a brown patched blazer with a white shirt underneath it- she justified her attire by saying that she just left her studio. She was a shrink.

As we sat at the table eating the traditional British Christmas dinner - which dad insisted to have prepared on his own, even though I had seen the plastic containers from Sainsbury's in the bin - I kept staring at her face and her appearance all together. She didn't seem real.

The porcelain make-up covered her skin perfectly; there wasn't a trace of acne, dark or red spots, just a smooth pore-less pallid surface.

'Okay, shall we reserve the Crackers for later then?' Dad asked smiling at her. She nodded and placed in her mouth a green sprout.

'So Parker' she swallowed 'how is school going?'

Time to shine Park, I thought.

'Fine' I lied. Don't get me wrong, school was great, but the social life was hell. And if you think about it, the significance of school during my adolescence was unfortunately tied to social status rather than the education per se. Hopefully, this has changed in your time.

She studied me as she finished chewing what was in her mouth, she wasn't looking at me in the eyes she was . . . scanning me, looking at the way I raised my eyebrows and how I was trying to avoid her penetrating gaze.

'Humph...' she swallowed covering her mouth 'You are in year twelve, aren't you?'

'Yep' I confirmed.

I could feel Dad looking at both of us, trying to figure out what she was doing and whether I was going to keep on acting as I've done all along.

Lauren seemed alright, for now. She just looked thoughtful and professional.

'So' dad broke the awkward silence that appeared to be of discomfort just to him and I, Lauren seemed at ease, she was - in fact - finishing calmly her dinner.

'How was work today?' Dad seemed to be cautiously selecting his words, maybe to prevent a ''honey'' or a ''baby'' from slipping every now and then.

'The usual' she said. It surprised me to learn that psychologists worked on Christmas as well 'but I can't tell you anything in detail about the patients themselves, you know, confidentiality' she paused 'Anyway I was discussing with this patient about postpartum disorder and she accused me of being, and I quote am "incompetent, opportunistic thief for accusing her of being mentally unstable and stealing her money" she finished. The calmness with which she kept on eating, expressionless, almost scared me. She looked so casual about anything, like she could be dealing with a sociopath and she wouldn't be alarmed.

'Does that-' I cleared my voice ' Does that happen often?'

'What do you mean?' She asked slicing neatly a piece of turkey.