I throw a glare at my brother, to which he bestowed me with an innocent look. Too innocent for my taste.
'Do you have anything to do with this?', I questioned him accusingly.
'What? How mom almost won the Oscars? Nope. It was totally you', my brother said smilingly. I have an internal groan, mentally preparing for the onslaught of 'fifibel's'.
My brother, never to miss a chance, starts his taunting by singing 'fifibel' in a very off-note, dragging the word and murdering it along the way.
'F-I-F-I-B-E-L', Scott sings away as he dances around me.
That's it. I need big guns for this kind of assault. When you are desperate, the only one that helps in these kind of situations is 'daddy!', I whined while searching for my dad. I march into the living room where my dad would be most probably sitting on the sofa and watching one of his football matches.
I crash land beside him on the sofa and started complaining to him about my plights, all the while with him not batting an eyelash.
Meet William James, my dad. I don't know what nana was thinking naming him that, as my dad in no way looks or resembles a philosopher, much less his personality. I'm deducing that nana was high on drugs after her labour to name my dad that. Well, mistakes happen all the time. He is 6'.1'' in height which I was proud of for a while and then jealous of after a learned about a blunt truth. It all happened when I was a kid...I was pretty confident I would be of that height when I grow up. Alas, my mom dashed my hopes by stating a blaring fact that girls in her lineage always tend to be short. Thanks mom. So, my mom drew out my hopes with a sharp pin. Now...I just ignore the fact that I'm not taller. You can use heels, you may say. Have you tried to walk in a 5-inch-heels without tripping yourself and falling on your ass? Yes? Well, I haven't.Nor will I if I have any say in it.
Anyway, we are diverting. So, let me tell you a few fun facts about my dad-
1. He is a huge fan of football-which I know nothing about, except the field is green and you have two teams. And a ball... is it called a ball or something else? At least I covered the basics there. Ok, point here, he never misses a match come hell or high water.
2. He calls my mom 'Olive' lovingly, only... he is allergic to olives. And my mom never connected the dots, or she was thinking- 'he loves me so much that he named me after the thing he craves but couldn't have'. Only my dad can pull something like that with her.
3. He has this gang...he calls them 'boys' (every single person is over 50. Go figure!) and every other weekend they plan fishing, hunting or poker game...whatever the 'boys' do to pass the time after their prime age, with mom's permission of course.
4. He loves my mom so much that he still makes goo-goo eyes at her when she is not noticing. Eww...come on guys, they are my parents. Only...one day I too want someone like that. It's hard to find that kind of love. My parents set the benchmark high.
'Dad, can we send mom on a year long vacation? Pretty please?', I folded my hands before me and made puppy eyes at him, not missing the chance of him looking my way while commercial break will play.
That got dad's attention like nothing did. 'Vacation? What vacation? No one is going to any vacation, especially your mom, not without me', he stated swiftly, concluding the topic and returning his attention to the tv.
'Dad! Stop being jealous for a second and help me here. Daddyyy', I whined and stretched the word to its maximum extent. Yes, I'm behaving like a 5-year-old, sue me.
Dad gave a sigh as if all the world's burden is placed on his shoulders and turned to me. 'Yes, fifibel, what do you want?', my dad asked with a straight face, turning towards me.
I can hear a burst of laughter from the side that connects to the kitchen. No doubt Scott and mom are having fun.
'Not you too!', I groan into my hands.
'Well, from what I heard, you insulted my wife', my dad said oh so casually while walking to the kitchen.
'And I'm your daughter! And I never insulted them. I just refused to drag into the middle of their daily conflicts. You do the same thing all the time', I said, following him into the kitchen where my mom is chopping the tomatoes for the salad, and Scott is eating the rest of the courses- you know, just tasting everything is correct or not.
'No one is greater than wife. No wife, no life', my dad replies while engulfing my mom in a hug from backside. Uhhh...and my mom gobbles it up.
'Tactics...Sister...tactics, you need to learn. Look at dad-he is a pro at it. Learn something from him. If you want, I can teach you, at a price of course', Scott expounds his wisdom.
'I would like to hear dad repeat that when nana is present', I answered Scott, this time putting dad on the line of fire. I'm evil. Ha ha ha, I cackled internally.
My mom stopped chopping her tomatoes and turned towards my dad, waiting for what dad will say.
'Bells! I stopped watching my match for you? Remember the times I defended you! ' My dad gave a frustrated groan.
'Well, the match was over, so it doesn't count. And you scared my would-be boyfriends away, not defended me', I countered back while folding my hands in front of me. Tactic...ha.
'Well, they were asking for it if they thought of taking you out after 10', my dad implores his logic as if it's a known fact. How dare they! Thinking of dating a grown woman!
'You are redirecting the topic. Answer the question, dad. Will you say it in front of nana?'
My mom raised her eyebrow, prompting him to answer. Dad, being a dad, does what he does when he gets cornered.
'You look so beautiful, Olive. How do I get so lucky!' He said and kissed her before us.
'Uhhh...dad! My eyes!' Scott and I rushed out of the kitchen as if they set it on fire. Scott still managed to pick a fruit on the way to munch on.
'See...now that's what I call it a tactic', he stated biting into his Apple.