I POSTED THIS STORY ON WATTPAD AS WELL
I really hope you guys read the whole chapter before deciding whether you want to continue further on. Please comment, and let me know if you like it or not, that way I can know if I should continue writing. Also please vote if you like it, and give it a chance. Thank you! :)
P.S sorry for any typos/grammar mistakes.
"Do we get sugar or sugar-free?", Moira asked holding the boxes of Marie cookies in both of her hands, squinting to read the details on one of them.
"Both", I sighed. As she placed the boxes in the cart, I moved on to the next thing on the list that my mother had made for me that morning. The woman did have a knack for testing my patience. I mean, who the fuck goes grocery shopping at seven in the freaking morning? Oh yeah, I do.
I yawned, not even bothered to cover my mouth. "A? How many more items? I have to get to school.", Moira asked, with no sign of irritability. See, this is why I loved Moira. All I had to do was ask, and she complied with no hesitation. When asked to the rest of them "friends", they fed me their excuses faster than a skilled guy can unclasp a bra. Although I can't really blame them. Getting your ass out of bed to go grocery shopping is not appealing at all. Also it gives you the extra boost to walk in knee-depth snow to school. I mean Oca? What in the god's name is that? "Almost done Mo...just need to find some Oca...", I said with distaste.
"What the hell is that?", she questioned.
"My mom...", I sighed, as if that were an explanation to what the fuck "Oca" was.
I know, my sardonic remarks and bitter tone is just bit of a buzz kill, but I'm not much of a morning person. I'm like a zombie, which makes perfect sense due to the dark circles enclosing my eyes. I'm usually not that sarcastic....well actually I am, but its not always laced with irritation. See, my mother is a bit...eccentric, when it comes to hosting. She needed everything to be perfect, from household looks, to small talk, to dining. Although this time it's a bit more different, special.
Apparently my dad's long lost best friend is coming to town, with his wife and kids. They met during their college years, in Pakistan, where my dad got a scholarship. Since then they were inseparable, but due to some kind of incident, the two have been completely out of touch, and in no way in contact. Although in the middle of their silent treatments, or whatever it was, my father had gone to meet them, alongside with my mother, brother and myself, and things were....a tad bit cooler. After so many years, his friend had called, and had informed that he was coming to New York from some part of England. The reason I don't know which part, is because whenever I bring it up, they silenced me with an "you'll just have to meet them yourself" and a wary expression.
As for the kids, my brother and I were apparently very close to two of their eldest. When we had gone to visit them during the "not-so-bad" times, the four of us would always be together, and had somewhat become the best of friends. The oldest was apparently a girl, same age as my brother, and the latter was a boy, one year younger than my brother. My brother, at the moment was twenty-two, which makes the daughter the same, and the son twenty-one. Me being seventeen, am still trying to understand how I'm placed in this equation. Maybe I was the small child, everyone coo-ed after. At the time I was only four. I do remember quite a lot of things from my childhood, so how could i have misplaced them? My brother was no help. The only information he can give me, is that he remembered them.
"A, there's no such thing as Oca over here. I dont think you can even find it in the country..", she bursted my little thought bubble, bringing me back to reality.
"Of course there isn't..", I muttered, pushing the cart towards the cash register. As the cashier, a guy named John, were checking our items, Moira put her arm around me.
"Look, I know you're in Walking Dead mode right now..". I made a face at her poor TV show reference. "..but I can also see you're really nervous about meeting your folks' friends today.
I sighed, putting my arm aound her slender bare waist. I couldn't argue with that. She knew, and I knew, that I was nervous as shit. I felt like this family, and the history they had with my parents, contained some kind of twisted past. I know it sounded stupid, but the way my parents were acting, and their odd behaviour was really throwing me off.
"Hey, at least we have the One Direction concert coming soon...", she hummed. Now that brought a smile to my face. Yes, I don't know how, but I am a directioner. Maybe it was their humbling personalities, or maybe their beautiful faces, or maybe even the sex aura they give off. Their angelic voices have gotten me hooked three years ago, and I have no desire of letting go.
Once John put everything in seperate bags, we carried them out to the car. Once the breeze hit us, we ran in the knee-depth snow, to reach the inside warmth of the car. I put the car in reverse, and set out on the road.
I looked at Moira, checking her out fully. "Moira, its fucking freezing. How the fuck are you wearing your cheerleader uniform?". I shivered, seeing only a red leather jacket surrounding her upper body, with nothing to cover her legs. The thin skirt that stopped right at her upper thighs, looked the same length as the t-shirt that was tucked deep under my coat.
"Aw, come on...its not that cold", I looked at her, with my mouth open. "..what?! Plus, these legs arent going to show themselves off on their own", she smirked.
I rolled my eyes. "You're unbelievable", I said shaking my head.
I stopped in front of the school gates. "You sure you don't want to ditch everything and hang with us?", she asked, collecting her bag from the back seat.
I wanted to do that more than anything, but I had responsibilities.
"As tempting as that sounds, you know my mom would have my head..", I said checking the time.
"You know you can always drop everything off and come back?". I loved how she was so insistent.
"You know how it is Mo...I have to meet them, socialize...". She sighed.
"I'll never understand your culture...". She got out of the car, shut the door and stalked towards the building.
"Neither will I", I muttered under my breath. I drove out to the main road, and started towards home. Maybe I could go home and ask mom if we had pictures of them. It's not fair how they kept things from me. I mean, I am completely involved! My phone started ringing, bringing me out of my mental outburst. It was bro.
"Hey, whats up?", I asked, stopping at a red light.
"Uh, where are you?", he asked, impatient.
"I'm almost home. Why? Whats wrong?". Oh god, what now.
"Ammu's having a nervous breakdown...they flew in early..and Abbu forgot to tell her...and now she's in the kitchen hyperventilating..because you still haven't brought the groceries...and you know she has that heart problem...and I'm trying to calm her down, but she's not listening...and she only listens to Abbu, but he's too scared to come in front of her....and he's taking care of the gue-"
"Wait..what?! They're already here?", I squeaked into the receiver. The lights changed, and I was mobile once again.
"Aanah! Have you not heard a single thing I've just said?", my brother barked.
"I heard I heard. I'll be there as fast as I can!". I hung up and sped through the slick roads.
Okay, so mom was on freak out mode, so was bro. This is not making me feel any better. I groaned as my stomach flip flopped while I parked in our driveway.
Okay Aanah. There's no need to get so wound up. They're just people, and at the moment, your hare brained mother needed you. As I took a big breath, I realized how stupid I was acting. I got out, and went to the trunk to grab the groceries. I went towards the back of the house, and got in through the back door that leads to the kitchen.
As I suspected, my mom was sitting on one of the stools resting her head on the kitchen island, with a glass of water on her right. My brother was no where to be seen, so that means he calmed my mother down and went out to help my father.
"Maa...get up. Here I brought your shit..", I said nudging her.
She got up giving me a disapproving look, as I took off my thick coat and started putting things away, taking them out of the plastic bags.
My mom was rubbing her face, probably tired from her little frenzied episode, as I opened cabinets after cabinets.
"Aanah", she sternly stated. I looked up at her. She glared at me, as though she were waiting for something.
"Seriously?", I asked, stunned.
"You know the rules", she said in Bengali, my national language.
I groaned, as I took a crumpled dollar out of my pocket, and stalked towards our family "swear jar". Yes, my family holds the beautiful tradition of the swear jar. They say how they shall always be "Bengali's by heart", yet this is some kind of an exception. A little part of me died, seeing the thin paper go in. The jar was almost full. Thats no surprise. The way my brother and I curse in this house, we have to clear out the jar twice a day. I still don't know where all that damn money goes.
"Good", she smiled. "Now, please don't touch anything. You can help me set up later", she said now twirling around the room, going from item to item. "Go meet the guests".
The flip flops were back. This is not a big deal, they are normal human beings.
Okay, what the fuck was actually wrong with me? Standing there, reassuring myself, like they were part of some other species?. Seriously Aanah? How could you let your intellect stoop so low?
Although before I charged in, I wanted to do my mental homework. So I walked towards the kitchen door, to look through the small square window enclosed by it, hoping my dad would be in the process of the annual house tour. No such luck.
My stomach growled, making me take the bowl filled with chips my mother had just poured into, off the counter.
"Annah, please tell me you're not going to wear that in front of them?", she snorted.
I had skinny jeans on, that were a bit tattered on the edges below for wearing them too much. I wore a t-shirt that had all the DC comics superheroes on them, and my hair was sprawled around my shoulders, which needed of a bit brushing.
I kept looking out, "Whats wrong with the clothes I'm wearing?", I asked, placing a chip in my mouth. Crunch.
"Oh no you don't. Go, go wear a Kameez.", she ordered. "Its been so long since you've worn one." Her rants then started, although in Bangla of course. "..after coming to America, you've completely forgotten your roots.."
Surprisingly I can hear my mom over the chewing of the chips, but it was just a hum in the background. I was focusing through the window, when I finally saw my dad, with the biggest smile I've ever seen plastered on his face. As he walked from the living room out to the hallways, six people followed through.
First a man, who of course must be my father's long lost friend. I felt like I've seen him somewhere? Due to the distant between the kitchen door and them, I came closer, and looked more intently, yet carefully, so I wouldn't be seen. When I saw the lady, and the three daughters, thats when it hit me. I then finally looked at the figure that came out last, and thats when it all became clear.
His tall lean figure stood on the tiled floor. He had on black boots, his torso adorned by a plain black t-shirt, with of course, a leather jacket covering his whole upper toned body. His tattoos mostly covered, yet I can see them peeking from under his sleeves, like I've got freaking super powers. His arms that holds a mild dark complexion come to his face to caress his light stubble, surrounding his appealing lips. My eyes finally move to his irises, a rich mesmerizing brown. His lashes touch his cheekbones every time he blinked. He was listening intently to what my father was saying. His presence illuminated the whole hallway.
I have seen this magnificent frame too many times.
Before I could comprehend what the hell was happening, he followed behind his family, disappearing. It felt as if he was never even there. It was like when someone snaps their fingers, and you realize you were in your own little dream cloud. Poof.
But it was not a dream, and that was no snap of fingers. I looked down to see the bowl that was once in my hand, completely destroyed, into millions of pieces.
Kameez- A traditonal outfit worn by south asians, preferably Bengalis, Indians and Pakistanis.
So this is chapter one. If you guys like it please vote or comment, so I could know whether I should continiue with the story! I know the beginnings a bit of a bore, but please give it a chance. :D
Much love -J x