Chapter III

Dining Where the Land is Flat and the People are Crazy

I was being completely honest in saying I did not remember this house. At the first glance, the words that popped in my head were “log cabin”. But calling this a cabin wasn’t right. Cabins weren’t three stories high, by the look of it. The front pavement of a log cabin wasn’t made in rocks. Log cabins didn’t have a porch completely surrounding the second story. Maybe log cabin was the wrong word. Maybe Swiss house might have been more fitting.

            Either way, there was a millisecond in my brain where I thought “hey, this might not be so bad after all.”

            But of course, that thought disappeared the second the front door burst open and I was welcomed by an amass of limbs, or more particularly arms, that appeared in front of me, fighting for dominion over my poor perfectly dressed body.  

            The hands belonged to three of my four great aunts. Why they were here to being with was seriously a mystery to me. Either way, at the moment, they were pretty much smothering me so I had more pressing matters at hands.

            They were crooning and saying how happy they were to have me around but I was kind of not listening and trying to get free. Especially when a Pekingese dog—the ones that have a face that looks like it bumped into a wall—threw itself in the lovely mess, barking and jumping and honestly I think he was trying to hump my legs. Or maybe the more marking moment was when my chubby four feet three inches high great aunt Rachel—the owner of the Pekingese dog, I couldn’t believe she still had that stupid dog—came rushing to me, grabbing me around the waist, and with how tall I was wearing my Prada boots she pretty much buried her face in my cleavage.

            Always a nice way to say hello.

            I forced a smile and giving little slaps in her back, a “there, there” kind of gesture. Honestly I felt socially awkward like Sheldon Cooper.

            Luckily, a voice came to my rescue. “Come on, let her go now. I want to see my granddaughter.”

            Okay, that might not mean rescue after all.

            I looked back at my father that was standing a few feet behind me, pleading for help with my eyes, while he just kept his laugh in check.

            Obviously, everyone automatically got out of the way and Cruella de Vil minus the killing puppies strike strode my way. To show emphasis, my great-aunt grabbed her dog and kept it away from her.

            Okay maybe Cruella de Vil was a bit over the top… It was just that my grandmother didn’t actually look like those homey Hallmark shopper kind of grandma’s. She looked like the kind that drank martini at the club house, wore heavy perfumes and flirted with the pool boys. Good thing we didn’t have a pool. Or well I hope we didn’t. Did we have a pool?

            I shook my head, clearing my thoughts and smiled at the woman without one white hair looking up at me. Blond hair and blue eyes. People said we looked alike. That was a scary thought.

            She placed her hands on my shoulder, not giving me a hug, but giving me a throughout inspection. “Naomi,” she smiled, “look how much you’ve grown.”

            I scrunched my nose a bit. “I’m cheating.”

            My grandmother pursed her lips. I felt like I was looking at Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada. “What might you mean by that?”

            My eyes widened. Friggin’ perfect, what was she imagining now? “Oh no, I meant Prada boots,” I pointed to them, raising my foot a bit, “five inch tall heels.”

            The pursing was still on-going. “Uh huh.”

            “Colleen, stop scaring the kid,” my grandfather chastises her and she stopped pursing, and smiled my way instead, like all of this had just been a joke. Friggin’ marvellous, really.

            I didn’t dwell on the details for too long though, because my grandfather wrapped his arms around me and even though I measured six feet two inches with my heels, he still towered me of a few inches. “Hi grandpa,” I smiled, smelling the familiar scent of his cologne. It would still stay on me when I would stop hugging him. It was odd to think that even though I didn’t see him often, that smell was almost branded in my brain.

            “It’s very nice to have you with us,” he smiled, stepping back.

             I would have talked more, but I only had time to smile at him before my eyes rested on my mother.

            Over the years I had been used to deal with the swooning girls that came to do homework at my house because my dad was “hot”. To me he was my father so it was kind of weird to define him as hot, but I could admit that he was good looking. Now, taking in that information, it would be normal to think that the woman he married many years ago would also be good looking, but I guess I didn’t see my mother often enough to get used to how nice she actually looked. It was in those moments that I hoped my genes meant I’d look like her at her age. But she was a brunette so there was pretty much no real hope here. Either way, Noah probably had to deal with his own friends coming around the house to check out his mom.

            I just stood there, looking at her, neither of us moving. And for a second I actually felt bad, bad because my mother knew me so little that she didn’t know if she could hug me or not. I could see it in her eyes, she was calculating whether or not it was the right decision to step forward and hug me.

            Maybe my father had been right; maybe I really needed to spend quality time with my mother…

            After a few agonizing moments I just decided to get it over with and walked up to her, hugging her.

            She stroked my hair, and then after a few second stepped back, smiling at me warmly. It was a wonder her mother was such a frigid… hmm… could we call our grandmother a bitch?

            “I’ve missed you Naomi,” my mother simply said.

            I smiled. “Me too.”

            To my right, my father—who was slowly surrounded by my great aunts—was standing beside my brother who was grinning at me. “Hi little sister.”

            Letting go of my mother I took a step towards him. Same blond hair as me, same blue eyes, he was as tall as Dad and still had the same smug smile plastered on his face I always saw with him. I raised my eyebrow in disbelief. “Little sister?”

            “I’m taller than you,” he pointed out, showing me all his teeth in a freaky smile.

             “I’m older than you,” I huffed.

            “Oh please,” he rolled his eyes, punching my shoulder. Ow! What the… “You got out of mom’s vagina’s first, big deal. I only let you go first because I’m a gentleman and ladies go first.”

            My grandmother stepped beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist and the other hand around his face. It looked painful with that manicure. “Noah Flinch, what have I said about using the word vagina in public before ten o’clock?”

            My brother could only mumble with his face trapped between the claws. “Don’t?”

            Grandma let go of his face and gave him two taps on the cheek which were borderline slaps. “What eludes me is that you can’t seem to understand such a simple demand.”

            “Oh it’s completely on purpose,” Noah answered, almost proudly. No, not almost, definitely proudly.

            And just like that she turned around and waved over her head. “Larry, you deal with this.”

            I covered my mouth to keep from laughing. Okay this might be interesting after all.

            I knew my grandmother enough to understand that that wave meant she was going to go fix herself a drink and so did all my great aunts because they followed, my grandfather too. Alright, no dealing with this apparently.

            So that just left, my mother, my father, my brother and I, alone in the entry.

            “Jodi,” my father nodded towards my mother.

            My mother reflected the gesture. “Daniel.”

            Alright, awkwaaaaard.

            It was weird, usually they didn’t seem so keyed up. There must be something I wasn’t seeing.

            I think the distance made the divorce easier. On any term, they were really civilised together, I’d even say friendly—well usually that is. That’s something I always believed in. How could you go from being in love with a person and not being able to just stand in the same room as them? If you loved them once weren’t you suppose to stay in minimal good terms? Because in my book, love never truly died. Once you loved someone once it would always follow whether you wanted it or not.

            I averted my eyes from their awkward motionlessness and silence and looked around the room for the first time properly.

            Reporter tip one oh one; assess your environment.

            This didn’t look like an entry, more like some kind of bachelor’s living room. There was a freaking pool table on my right and an actual big friggin’ bar. I certainly did not remember that. Or the entire house for that matter. I must have been too young the last time I came here.  On my right there was a beige couch and the matching recliner that face the massive fireplace all made in rocks. The walls were painted in a light olive green and were very high. A huge staircase led to the second floor. Maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad after all…

            “Huh, Jodi, can we talk,” my father’s voice snapped me back to reality.

            My parents both walked towards the fireplace, to talk about whatever dad needed to tell her.

            My brother leaned in towards my ear. “Twenty bucks says they do it by the time grandma has a refill.”

            My eyes widened and I backed away, refraining myself from slapping him. “What?”

            Noah chuckled, nodding his head. “Oh they’re definitely bumping uglies, just look at them,” he pointed towards them with his chin.

            Okay, yes, their body language wasn’t exactly closed up, but that didn’t mean anything.

            Ew.

            “What are you saying,” I hissed back at him.

            “Our parents, they’re getting it on,” Noah informed me, with his stupid smug grin.

            I exhaled loudly. “No they’re not.”

            “Please,” he rolled his eyes and grabbed me around the shoulder to turn me and make me look at our parents. I would have chastised him but they didn’t really seem to realize we were looking their way. “Look at them. I don’t know about Dad but I’m fairly confident in stating that mom hasn’t gotten any in a while. In fact, the last time was probably when Dad dropped you off and there was that big snow storm so he had to stay a few days, two years ago.”

            “What? They didn’t have sex,” I whispered back, shocked. What kind of conversation was that? I hadn’t seen my brother for months and we barely ever talked and now he decided that the way we could bond was by talking about our parents’ none-existing sex life. Gross.

            “Oh trust me, they did. They do it.”

            “And how do you know that?”

            “You don’t want to know.”

            I scrunched my nose in disgust. “Ew.” I shrugged his hands off my shoulders and shook my head at him. “You have issues and I need a drink now.”

            I started to walk towards wherever people had been going, following the sound of voices but my brother shadowed my steps. “Like grandma will let you touch anything in her liquor cabinet. Anyway, nice to know you’re always so prude,” there went that shoulder punching again, “that means I won’t have to kick too many guy’s butt because you want to date the entire football team.”

            I stopped, turned around, punched his shoulder and started to walk again. “A) You have issues, b) I’m not so prude, c) you ain’t beating up anyone for me and d) you have serious issues.”

            “But we probably share the same since we’re twins.”

            Unbelievable. “Is this how you think we’ll get closer? Is this how you think I’ll feel more welcomed here?”

            “You’ll be staying now. For real. You have to get used to my annoyingness,” he smiled smugly.

            I rolled my eyes, looking around, trying to find where everyone was hiding. “Oh joy.”

            “Sarcasm is the last refuge of the unimaginative.”

            I frowned and stopped walking. When he said this he sounded just like Dad. Weird.

            I didn’t have to dwell too much on this because another dog, not the old dry-humping Pekingese, but one I had never seen before, a Beagle, came rushing to me. This one seemed nice enough and wasn’t mistaken my leg for the opposite gender so I crouched to pat its head.

            “Naomi, meet the newest addition to our family, Kashtanka,” Noah announced.

            “Woah,” I looked up at him, “what?”

            “Kashtanka, it’s Russian,” he answered, like I had been stupid for making a comment.

            “Oh really, I never would have figured.” I rolled my eyes and resumed to the head patting. That dog was nice. It was a female and she was just so pretty with her white fur with light brown spots. Beagles were cute. And she was friendly. And she obviously liked being patted because she was already on the ground, belly up, her paws keeping my hand down. Cute dog. I smiled at her. “Why did you call her that?”

            “Friend of mine read a short story by some Russian dude and in it the main character is a dog named Kashtanka” Noah explained, “and I don’t know, I liked it. And everyone calls her Tank either way.”

            Reporter tip one oh one; people do things for a reason.

            It wasn’t hard to guess why he had named his dog after a friend’s advice. I looked up at my brother though I didn’t stop the patting. “What’s her name?”

            He looked at me like I was stupid. “I just told you, Kashtanka”

            I smirked. “No, I mean the girl that told you to call your dog Kashtanka.”

            And bingo. His expression instantly changed, from smug to shock. “I have somewhere to be.” He turned around and walked in the room Tank had come from. “GRANDMA!”

            I laughed a little. “Hello Tank,” I crooned, “Who’s a good girl.” Her leg did the little spasm thing and I laughed more.

            Okay, I kind of liked dogs, guilty. I meant the none-dry-humping ones. Must be in my genes. My mother was a veterinarian after all.

            I stroked the dog just a bit more and then got up and joined the party in the next room.

            My parents came in just a few seconds after me and I had to give it to Noah. Something seemed to be going on there. And it wasn’t really nice to think about. Ew. Hopefully my father would be gone before anything could happen.

            My grandmother’s laugher brought me out of my stupor. “You look like you need a drink dear.”

            “Hey, totally uncool grandma!” Noah complained. “You never offered me any.”

            “Because I know you snoop around in my liquor cabinet with your friend.”

            “She will too, now that she’s staying here,” he whined. Everyone around didn’t seem to really care about his whining. My guess was that they were used to it at this point. I, on the other hand, wasn’t.

            “No I won’t,” I pitched in. Snooping in the liquor cabinet wasn’t actually in my curricular activities. I had better things to do with my nights.

            My grandmother smiled at me and for a second I felt bad about thinking of her as a none-puppy-killing Cruella de Vil. “And I trust her.”

            Noah snorted. I thought about horses and cocaine addicts. “Why?”

            Grandma looked at him in disbelief, like he had asked the single most stupid question in the world. “Because she didn’t try to make her family believe that there were people doing chicken sacrifices in our barn.”

            “That was just a joke,” Noah raised his arms in protest.

            “You killed three chickens,” she pointed at him with her manicured fingers. Nice, so they do have a nail place.

            He waved it off. “You take things too seriously.”

            Wow, my brother is crazy. I had realized over the years that he wasn’t the most stable person mentally but, wow, really he was going up the crazy chart by the second.

            “And you obviously don’t take them seriously enough.” And that was it for my grandmother. Even though I didn’t see her often, I knew the look and tone she used when a conversation was over. And if she said it was over, it was over. Unluckily, she turned her attention to me, after taking a sip from her martini glass. “So, dear, how is life in Beverly Hills”

            “Perfect,” I offered.

            “I would assume,” she smiled over her drink.

            I gulped. Someone save me.

            Fortunately, dinner time arrived soon enough and everyone gathered in the living room. I had to give it to my grandparents, their house was definitely better to welcome guests than my mother’s old one. Sure, I was more use to her house, but it was small. This one was big.

            Their dinning room table could easily contain all the crazy family; my two grandparents, my mother and my father, my brother, my four great aunts—Rachel, Daniella and Alice were married to my grandfather’s brother, two of those husbands being dead now and Karen, my grandfather’s sister. Luckily all their children and grandchildren hadn’t come today, but apparently there was a way to fit all those people in this room, though I kind of doubted it.

            The evening went by in a blur, with people talking and eating. Mentally, all I could do was sit there and realize that this was it, this was really it. After dinner my father would drive back to the airport and he would take a plane and leave. Tomorrow I would be all alone with those crazy people and I would be there to stay.

            Tank stayed by my side during most of the meal, except for when my grandfather called her and snooped up for her food from his plate.

            I didn’t tell on him though, all I could think about was that soon this whole thing, this would be my life… The thought was frightening.

            My father left at nine. Letting him go was pretty friggin’ hard. Especially since he was going into a foreign country on another friggin’ continent and I wouldn’t see him for a year. Dear god, how was I going to live without him for a year?

            I clutched at him more than a responsible young woman would have been suppose to, but screw responsible. I was a daddy’s girl and my daddy was going away.

            I let everyone say their goodbye too. I kind of felt bad for Noah. I could see he would have wanted to spend more time with him. And I think my mother was actually sad to see him leave too. Weird. My grandmother on the other hand was practically throwing a party. She had given him the silence treatment all throughout dinner which was weird. I didn’t remember her not liking him, but then again I didn’t exactly remember this house so my judgement was maybe a bit biased with anything Moose Jaw related.

            When my father was finally gone and I kept the tears in check because I hated crying in front of an audience, my grandparents and mother lead me to my room, helping me carrying my many, many bags to the second floor.

            Because of the house’s gable roof, the room they took me to had the gable wall thing working for it. The roof part was in wood and the straight walls parts were in brick. It had a hard wood floor, and one window with a working table under it, to look outside while studying.

            Aside from that working table, the only other piece of furniture was a queen size bed with a plain cover on it and a chest of drawers.

            “Tomorrow we’ll go out to buy you things for your new room,” my mother explained, probably already guessing I didn’t exactly enjoy a room completely plain. “We haven’t decorated because we wanted to let you pick. And afterwards, you can go out with Noah and meet his friends. It’ll be good if you meet people before school starts, make friends.”

            After a few more exchange words, they let me alone so I could start getting my things out of my bags. It was good because I had a few dresses and skirts and shirts that didn’t need creases in them.

            Yes, concentrate on your clothes and the task needed rather than how awful this whole experience is going to be.

            My mother lingered a bit, but I could see she really didn’t know how to approach me. Again I felt kind of sad.

            When I had emptied an entire bag—luckily the wardrobe was a decent size—there was a knock at my door and before I could say anything Noah walked in.

            “You know, there’s no point in knocking if you don’t wait for an okay,” I pointed out and took my Thakoon dress out of one of my bags. So pretty.

            “Just wanted to make sure you haven’t tried to escape by the window yet.”

            I rolled my eyes. “Ha ha”

            “Anyway, I just wanted to say, sleep well and that yes, the Yeti is real and he will probably show up at your window tonight. There’s a reason why this room was always empty.”

            “Thank you very much, I’m touched.”

            “Anytime”

            “Hey, wait.” I took a step forward and continued when he looked my way. “You know you don’t have to do it… the meeting your friends tomorrow thing I mean.”

            He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

            “I mean it,” I pressed. “I know that’s probably the last thing you want to do.”

            I know I never took him to meet my friends whenever he visited. Some of my friends actually didn’t believe I had a twin brother because they had never seen him.

            “Actually no, I’m happy for you to meet my friend, I already talked to them about you and they’re really eager to meet you.”

            Because aside from you I’m the only one in here that probably knows what personal hygiene is? Okay that was a bit harsh to think, it’s not because I was out of Beverly Hills that people didn’t wash. What was wrong with me and being judgmental?

            Reporter tip one-oh-one; do no be fooled by a person’s appearance, it’s probably a cover.

            I nodded. “If you’re alright with it, then fine.”

            And for the first time, my brother gave me a genuine smile. It was nice. “Good.”

            “Hey, where is the phone here,” I asked before he left. I had someone to call.

            He fished in his pocket and handed me a BlackBerry. “There, take mine.”

            I frowned. “It’s a long distance.”

            “Grandma pays for it,” he smirked and got out before I could argue. And I wouldn’t. I really needed to talk with someone that wasn’t from this family. I needed to talk to my best friend Neha.

            The second she picked up her phone I spoke. “Please Neha, come and free me from this horrifying world.”

            “Oh Mimi!” she squealed. “Mujhe tumhari bahaut yaad aati hai.”

            Hindi. Typical.

            Neha’s family was from Delhi. Half of the time people were dumb and thought she was Latina, not Indian and they started trying to talk to her in Spanish. The face they made when she started speaking very, very fast in Hindi was hilarious.

            Her father was a brilliant engineer and her mom a brilliant surgeon, which meant that whatever Neha choose to do, she had to be brilliant at it.

            Right now, she was brilliantly missed. She was the only one that knew the name of the town I was moving too, that was how much I trusted her.

            “I miss you too! I’m on the verge of looking for a gun and shooting my brains out.”

            “You live in Canada now sweetie, they need a permit to have guns. You won’t find any easily.”

            “The suckage just keeps getting higher and higher,” I groaned and let myself fall back on my bed.

            I can survive this, I can survive this, I can’t survive this…