It took them 10 minutes to stop making that happy sound and come out from the kitchen. Not that I'm keeping track, yuck. Whatever! The point is, whenever dad gets in a pickle, he uses this strategy and mom falls for it, hook-line-and-sinker...every single time. That's one of the reasons why Scott and I decided for separate accommodations. Uhh...why are we talking about this again? I'm not going to discuss anymore on this subject.
'Mom! Dad! Dinner guys...remember? Please hurry, otherwise Scott will polish it all off. I'm starving here', I give a shout to them. My parents came outside looking disheveled with my dad giving us a cheery grin and mom blushing her cheeks off with her hair askew.
'TMI guys, TMI. I'm hungry here, please don't kill it', I made the symbol with my hands. Ya, life sucks when your parents are still blushing after...whatever they have done in the kitchen (not going there), and here I'm...a virgin with not even a proper groping experience.
Mom and dad joined us on the table after refreshing themselves. Ours is a long table with six chairs on each side- don't ask, it's mom's wedding gift from her parents. Probably giving a hint to fill those up. Unfortunately, mom dusted her hands after we came into the world. Talk about influence. Nana likes to sit at the head of the table whenever she joins us, lording on us. As she is currently not here, we sit at one corner. As promised, she made a chicken enchilada casserole with baked potatoes that are coated in butter (correction...dripping with)on the side. Once we started eating after passing the dishes around , mom started 'so...fifibel, how was work?'
Translation-how is nana treating you.
'It's work mom', I said while stuffing my mouth to escape her questions.
Translation- same as your mom.
'Good to hear dear', my mom replied. Translation- good, I didn't give in sooner. Office politics have nothing on these two people, I feel you.
Nana doesn't stay with us. Obviously, it was only so much dad can handle. And nana said she needed her space for her 'activities'. So, it's a win-win.
Mom turned to Scott once she realised I'm very serious about my casserole.
'Scott! Have you met anyone interesting? 'mom tried to probe. A snort slipped past me while Scott's answer was to choke on his water. Meet? He meets alright. Daily. Only not with the same one.
I smirked at him enjoying this very much now as he stumbles to reply, 'jeez mom, I'm busy. With work', another snort escapes me and Scott throws a dirty look my way, I mouthed 'what!' at him as he continues, 'I don't have time to build a relationship with anyone', he concludes his awkward explanation.
'That I agree, brother, truly. You don't have time to build, hence your acquaintance is always cut short', i shot back sarcastically.
This time dad also catches on what I'm telling and asks mom something else cleverly changing the subject. After marrying for 30-odd years, how could be my mom so clueless is beyond me. Whereas I... am I already in the category of old spinster, who knows everything but experienced nothing? Not a happy thought.
'So fifibel...what about you? Busy with any work I should be worried about?' Scott asked while cracking his knuckles.
'Between dad and you, do you think anyone would dare to look at me?' I countered, feeling hopeless about my prospects.
'They better not', this coming from my dad. So, he finished distracting mom I guess.
'Stop with fifibel everyone, ok? I'm sorry, please drop it', I requested them once our dinner is finished and we are relaxing just sitting on the table, with the now empty dishes scattered before us.
'I'm not the one who announced to everyone that can hear, to call me that from here on', Scott replied with laughter in his eyes.
Now before we venture any further, with deep heart, I have to tell you the origin of 'fifibel'-
Sixteen years back- an urge that became the ultimate weapon in the hands of my family.
That was a sunny day (again! Whoever told bad things happen on rainy day must be hanged). You can hear the laughter in the air. Children were running on the grass. If you looked at the sky hard enough, you can even find a rainbow, and if you squint your eyes in a certain angle, maybe a unicorn or two around the corner. People are having fun, eating lunch...some are overstuffing, but whatever. Some are sprawled on the grass. You can see the relaxed smiles on amused parents' faces. Suddenly a chilly breeze went past them. No one noticed, not even the girl whose future is going to change its course because of this incident. There, among the children playing, you can find a 7-year-old girl in pink tulle dress with a princess tiara on her head and ribbons in her hair that were longer than her hair. That was...me...ya, I was pretty wild back then.
There I was having a time of my life, after eating crispy chicken. I just wanted to grab my clueless 7-year-old-self, give her a good shake and shout at her, 'DON'T SAY ANYTHING!! This is going to be a disaster in the making!!!' Alas, my supernatural powers didn't work.
For those who are getting irritated by the dramatics, let me clarify. We were having a picnic of sorts. My family and dad's 'boys' and their families. It was an enormous affair with 20 something people present.
So, one of the dad's friend, uncle Reynold, has a one-year-old-daughter, Sophie. Sophie has not yet learned to talk properly, obviously her being all of a year old, she hasn't reached that accomplishment. And she was asking for her pacifier. As she couldn't talk, she tried to manage in her gibberish by saying 'fifi' repeatedly.
Sitting beside her, my dad's other friend, uncle John, who was not married at that time, laughed his ass out (pardon my language), which was joined by the laughter of all the men folks present there and women scoffing at uncle John for raising such an issue.
'Did she ask for a 'fifi'? God, Reynold, what are you teaching her?', he asked in between his bouts of laughter.
'Shut your dirty mouth, John. There are kids here. She is one-year-old. What do you expect from her? Sprouting oxford dictionary?' Uncle Reynold chastised, who was trying to look angry but failing miserably.
But my 7-year-old-self, didn't catch on why uncle Reynold is scolding uncle John. She just saw people are laughing at the word 'fifi' (because they are thinking of its meaning). She thought Sophie said a funny word and people are amused, what if? (Brainiac, that's me). So, she marched right into the middle of their group, took a long breath and bellowed to everyone, 'I want my name to be 'fifibel' from now on', not caring the gasps from the women present there or her mom's shout 'Bella'-to which she responded with a fart so loud it could be heard by everyone. You can imagine what happened after that.
Yes...that was me...totally clueless, and I only responded to those who called me 'fifibel', for a while. Ok, for seven years. Thankfully, no one knew its origin from the school. Poor me, I was in an illusion that it was exotic till I turned 14 and learned the true meaning of it. Thank you, Google. Thus, I dub thee my godmother hence forth.
Present day
'Dad! Please ask them to stop it. It's hurting me', I tried to drop a tear or two, but that talent is beyond me. My eyes are as dried up as a desert.
Here is the thing- dad doesn't enjoy seeing me cry. All I have to do is tear up a little. And he can move mountains if I ask.
'Ok people, tone it down. Enough of this', dad said as a matter of fact, ending the discussion to which Scott rolled his eyes. Ya, I have my perks.
'So...mom, how was your meeting with Stella?', I asked casually, trying to scrap the leftover ice cream from my bowl.
'Josephine got engaged', my mom said sadly. Josephine is Stella's daughter. She is a 5'.9'', blonde amaze, who can be a carbon copy of Barbie. Even her name sounds like that of a goddess. Unfortunately, she is also a model that frequents top magazine.
'To an actor', she dropped the bombshell in the silence that ensued by her declaration. She looked expectantly at my brother and me. So that's the reason for asking about Scott's dating life. She probably wrote me off as a lost case. Great! Between a virgin and a womaniser, I wonder, who will settle into a relationship first? What's the chance of finding a partner to be with, which hasn't happened till now? Slim to none.
With mutual understanding, Scott and I decided it's the correct time to clear the table, and vacated the premises faster than nimbus 2000.