What did you Bring?

"What did you bring?" Looking at the table groaning under the weight of 50 million calories, Esther thought about lying but she was a terrible liar, always had been. "What have you got there child?", her terrifying grandmamma used to ask. Despite always wanting to reply "Nothing", she would find herself opening her hand to display her contraband every single time. It might have been a feather, a flower, a teardrop shaped jewel dug from a piece of costume jewellery or a sweet of some sort. Esther was a magpie.

Now she glanced sideways at the tall woman who had asked her what she had brought to this party she hadn't wanted to come to. She looked and smelt like summer, long flowing locks, a silk kaftan, the scent of amber and melon. Esther looked down at her creased shirt and unfashionable parachute pants, her chewed fingernails and dirty bare feet. She pointed vaguely at something on the immaculately arranged table but she couldn't do it.

"Nothing", she finally answered. "I know that's terribly rude of me but I've been up for over 48 hours painting and it, you know, slipped my mind. I can pop to the IGA if you like." Esther sniffed, suddenly glad she had tried to wake herself up in the shower and washed her hair. She hadn't bothered with make up or a brush but at least she felt a bit fresher, more alive. Although, in truth, she would rather be back in front of her easel than in her neighbour's beautiful home staring at a mountain of food.

"Wow. You're decorating already? I'm Claire by the way, number 67, the one with the white driveway."

Esther giggled. "Not that sort of painting. I'm an artist and I have an exhibition coming up so I'm trying to get some pieces finished. The move didn't come at the best of times for me. Fucking shit timing to be honest. If you'll excuse me, I need to ................. ", she wandered off leaving Claire gaping like a fish struggling for breath.

Finding a quiet space on a small verandah at the back of the house, Esther sucked in some air, in reality just filling her lungs with humidity. It had been one month, two days and 15 hours since Jess had told her there was someone else. Someone who didn't put her work first. Esther had been given two days to clear her stuff out. It had all passed in a bit of a blur, packing up, throwing ten years of memories into suitcases, boxes, or the bin. Driving up country to the old house that had belonged to terrifying grandmamma, in a neighbourhood that had now been gentrified. Although the house she had inherited but never before lived in stood out, not a renovation in sight.

Jumping up, Esther walked down the steps, through the garden and out onto the street, making her way home. Pushing the door open her sensitive nose picked up the aromas of oil paints, garlic from dinner the previous night and the musty smell of old things she hadn't yet got around to clearing out. Opening the fridge, she removed two bottles of dandelion wine she had found in the cellar. Going into the bedroom, she slicked on some lipstick, brushed her hair and headed back out of the door, crossing the road to the party house. She set an intention to eat as many calorie laden goodies as she could digest, for after all, grandmamma was no longer there to tell her she couldn't.