The Outlaws invited two friends to The Bro’s birthday dinner. Raewyn is a friend of Rosina’s, and I’m not sure whose friend Chris is. Possibly nobody’s. I’m not sure how it came up, but as everyone sat around the table surreptitiously burping, somebody mentioned Chris was into astrology. He recently told Sian, a friend of Rosina’s, that she had no relationship with her mother which apparently came as a surprise to Sian because she cried for a week.
“Sian, she is, the crab?” said Chris. “Cancer, yes. These people, their relationship with the maternal mother is, how you say? Bad. Complicated.”
“I’m Cancerian,” I said.
“How’s your relationship with your mother?” asked Brian.
“Pretty good, I reckon.”
Chris shot me a look and, if I had more sense, I would have been chilled to the bone. Instead I flashed him a smile which, if I communicated the sentiment accurately, should have said, “Shove THAT up your arse.”
“I’m Aries,” volunteered Raewyn.
“Aries,” mused Chris. “Yes. Aries, you are hard worker. You work hard. But you will be alone. Always alone.”
“Oh,” said Raewyn.
“Yes,” said Chris.
“At least you have your friends,” said Rosina.
“What about Aquarius?” I asked.
“Why you want to know?”
“Husband,” I said, pointing a thumb at the subject.
“There is no connection between you. This man and you, there is no reason for the two of you to be together.”
“Terrific,” said Husband.
“You will come to understand this later,” said Chris confidently.
“So, we’re poked?” I asked.
“Yes. I can tell you do not believe this,” Chris addressed Husband, whose waves of skepticism emitted their own frequency.
“Well no,” said my husband. “It’s just that . . . sort of . . . basically it’s a pile of rubbish, isn’t it?”
I guess silent adoration doesn’t count as a connection