Full

Gemma stared at the toilet bowl beneath her. Remnants of her stomach floated around the top. She still clung to the toothbrush in her left hand. Gemma spat one last time, the spit became drool that seeped down her chin. She pulled at the toilet roll next to her, scrunching up toilet paper she wiped her mouth. She lifted herself up enough to reach the button and pressed down hard watching as her mothers roast disappeared from the toilet.

She sat in a clump on the bathroom floor. Her tongue circulating her mouth for any saliva to erase the acidity in her throat. She gave up, pulling herself to the basin for water. The tap had been running for 10 minutes. Gemma cupped her hands under the tap, then slurped down the tap water.

Gemma stared through the mirror. Her face was a beetroot red. Her eyes were glassy from swelling with water. She blinked twice. Downstairs she could hear the movement of chairs and the muffled sound of conversation. She splashed water on her face and then dabbed it with her mothers nice hand towel.

She walked down the stairs and noticed her mother clearing the table.

“Ma, leave those!”

Her mother, an older version of Gemma looked up at her daughter, her face was done up nicely for her new partner Jerry that sat at the head of the table.

“I told your mother I would do the dishes but she insisted!” said Jerry.

“Guests don’t clean up!” she said, stacking the knives and forks on top of the plates.

Gemma’s brother, Alex, sat at the opposite end of the table, his face consumed by the phone in front of him. Alex was an ex highschool rugby prodigy that stopped playing after sustaining a blow to the head. It was actually more of a blow to the whole family, as Gemmas’ mother had to be his full-time carer and supporter.

Gemma walked over to the table grabbing the salad bowl that sat in the middle, her brother let out a howl, still staring at something on his phone.

“What’s so funny?”

Her brother took a moment to hear Gemma ask him a question and then glanced slightly up at her.

“Oh, just this dog,” he said laughing in between sentences. “He's carrying this big stick and he can’t fit through the fence!”

Gemma smiled back at him, guilty of the life she had and the life he didn’t.

“How bout you show Jerry that, Alex!” shouted Gemma's mother from the kitchen.

Jerry moved wistfully towards the chair next to Alexs’, laughing at everything Alex showed him.

“So do you like him?”

Her mother had put on an act throughout the night trying to impress Jerry. Similar to that of a hormonal schoolgirl, laughing at all of Jerrys’ ridiculously lame jokes and romanticizing her mundane life.

“He’s great!” said Gemma, squirting detergent into the running sink.

“Well, Alex loves him!”

Her mother had focussed now on her reflection in the glass window, tossing her curls to be more upright. She had worn a dress that she’d picked up from a boutique in the city just hours before, her lips brushed with scarlet red lipstick. She opened her mouth and rubbed at the small amounts of red that were stained on her teeth.

“Do I look ok?” said her mother, flattening and showing off her dress to Gemma.

“Yeah, that dress looks great on you!”

“Did I tell you it was only $40!”

Gemma smiled, ignoring the past 3 times her mother had told her that evening.

Her mother glanced back into the dining room,

“I should get back! Are you good?” she said, to Gemma and the pile of dishes that sat next to the sink.

“Yeah, Ma. All good!”

As she washed the dishes, Gemma stared out the window. Nightfall was approaching slowly and the outlines of the garden were growing darker. The backyard had changed since she was a child, the macadamia trees knocked down, the grass torn up for faux grass. She blinked twice, thinking she was imagining. Her fathers shed was gone. The shed where her father would collect and grind the macadamias from their tree. The shed where he’d sit tinkering for hours fixing an old M6 he’d bought from their neighbor. The shed where he’d taught her how to hammer a nail. Gemma became distressed,

“Fucking bitch!” she muttered.

“What Gem?”

Gemma flinched not realizing her mother had reappeared from the dining room.

“Nothing!”

“We’re having a pot of tea, do you want a cup?”

“Sure.”

Her mother grabbed at the kettle that was sitting on the window sill, and excused herself for the tap. Gemma moved aside, hands wet and soapy to allow her mother to fill the kettle.

After placing it on the stove, her mother grabbed at the tea cloth hanging on the oven door.

“Ma, they can dry themselves!”

“They dry unevenly then!”

Her mother grabbed at the pot from the racks.

The women stood in silence, washing, rinsing and, drying. Gemma continued staring at the concrete slab that used to be her fathers' shed.

“Why did you get rid of dads’ shed?”

“What sorry?” said her mother, confused.

Gemma nudged her shoulders towards the back garden.

“It was no use to me!”

“What about all of his stuff?”

“I sold it”

“You sold it?”

“Yeah, Sammy didn’t want any of it.”

“Are you fucking kidding me!”

Gemma scrubbed angrily at a plate, thinking about her perfect brother, his perfect wife, and their two perfect children across the other side of the country.

“Not tonight Gemma. We have guests.”

“Guest, Singular. Just Guest!” interrupted Gemma.

The kettle started to whistle.

The women both stood there, catching their breaths.

Her mother was the first to move, turning off the gas.

“How about you take a few moments to calm down a bit.”

“Fine!” said Gemma, wiping her hands on her jeans and heading towards the backdoor.

Gemma stood out in the cold watching the cloud of smoke from her vape come out of her mouth. She intended on staying a little longer than her mother would like. She enjoyed picturing her tea sitting cold on the dining room table and her mother pretending everything was ok. Gemma traced the layout of her fathers' old shed then headed back inside. After placing her coat on the back of the door, she opened the fridge, thinking she’d buy some extra time away from her mother. Sitting on the middle shelf was a big chocolate cake.

“Oh good, you’re back!” Her mother had wandered back into the kitchen carrying the tray of two cups.

“Did you make this?”

“Actually Jerry did. Took him most of the week to find the recipe. I think it was his grandmothers’!”

“Looks good!”

“No!”

Gemma turned to her mother, opening the cupboards to grab the smaller plates.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re not having any!”

“I didn’t realize I was still a child?”

Her mother looked behind her to make sure Jerry wasn’t near, she bent towards Gemma changing the tone of her voice.

“I know what you were doing upstairs in the bathroom.”

Gemma stiffened.

“I wasn’t doing anything!”

“Come on. Your behavior hasn’t changed in 15 years. If it’s not about you, you make it about you. Sam's wedding, Alex in hospital, your Fathers' funeral.”

The words stung, Gemma could feel her eyes watering

“If I want to be selfish for once in 32 years. ONCE IN 32 YEARS. I thought you would support me. You’re 30, Gemma. 30. Stop acting like an attention-seeking teenager. Grow up!”

Her mother grabbed at the side counter, drawing in a deep breath to contain her anger.

“He went to a lot of trouble making that cake and I’m not going to let you waste it!”

Gemmas’ face began to prick red, she watched as her mother fixed herself up in the reflection of the windows.

“So I’m going to carry out the forks and plates if you are alright carrying the cake?” Her mothers' tone went back to normal.

Gemma looked at the floor, worried her mother would see how much her words hurt.

“Yep!” she gulped.

“Would you like to do the honors?” her mother said, passing the knife over to Jerry.

Jerry smiled and grabbed the knife from her hand.

“Now I made this because your mum, Alex, told me you love chocolate cake!”

Gemma winced at Jerrys’ childish approach to speak to Alex.

“It’s so lovely of you!” her mother said, smiling at him.

Jerry handed the piece of cake across the table to Gemma's mother who placed it in front of Alex.

Alex continued to play on his phone, shoveling the cake in front of him down his throat.

“So sweetheart, would you like a slice?”

Gemma's mother smiled, “Yes, but just a tiny sliver, Jerry!”

“Ok, tell me when!”

Gemma watched as her mother kept insisting that the piece was too big for her.

Jerry served her a little more than a crumb.

“Gemma, did you want a slice?” said Jerry, halfway through cutting her a piece.

“No she’s full, aren’t you Gem!”

Gemma stared at her mother across the table who was smiling at Jerry.

“Jerry made this chocolate cake especially for Alex though. I have to try it!” said Gemma, snarkily.

Gemma could feel her mothers' eyes burning from across the table.

Jerry smiled, cutting a piece of the cake. “You know this is my grandmother's recipe!”

“Oh Jerry, you can go bigger!” said Gemma, knowing that the bigger he cuts the more pissed off her mother would be.

Jerry laughed at her enthusiasm.

She watched as Jerry placed the cake on a plate and handed it to her. With each bite, she made sure that she emphasized the amount of pleasure it gave her.

Pleasure that would only last her 15 minutes.