Tweenache in the Time of Hashtags
Page 3
Way to reconnect with your estranged family and ruin the best birthday present ever, Dad.
6
Ozzy
Posted by Nina on 15 June 2014 at 8.43 p.m.
I have spent many classroom hours looking out the window, picturing the day I’d meet my dad. In my most popular fantasy, I am all grown up and a top notch investigator, a badass who tracks down bad guys for a living, and one day, I come face to face with this legend in FBI circles, an ex-CIA officer now gone rogue. We have all heard so many stories of him but never actually met him – he’s almost an urban legend. Anyway, the Urban Legend gets played and ends up in our cell for interrogation – this man, who is a spitting image of Joseph Morgan (That guy who plays Klaus Michaelson in #TheVampireDiaries and #TheOriginals? That guy.). Yeah, my sister watches those shows and I’ve watched enough to know that Klaus is the strongest, most badass half-vampire, half-werewolf hybrid. And he loves his little wolf baby more than anything else in the world. So, yeah, the ex-CIA agent turns out to be the spitting image of the biggest, baddest hybrid and I’m cutting the story short here, but he turns out to be my estranged father. He goes on to tell me that he was a spy on the run, carrying a big government secret, and he had no choice but to disappear from our lives in order to keep us safe. And proceeds to show me a picture of him with my mom (I’m still in the belly) and tells me how it’s the only thing that’s kept him going all this time and now that he has set his eyes on me, the precious apple of his eye, he’s ready to spill all those secrets, surrender and DIE. A martyr and a hero.
CUT TO REALITY: Mom drove Nikki and me to That Nice Brunch Place down the road. It’s a new place Nikki and I like to frequent and, as the name suggests, it’s a lazy place for lazy people, run by people too lazy to name the place. Mom said she didn’t want to come in with us, and Nikki asked for the hundredth time if she could stay home too, and Mom said no.
‘Nope. He has visitation rights, and legally, if he wants to see you, I can’t stop him. You’re not eighteen yet.’
‘Right, that’s FAIR!’ Nikki yelled as Mom got back inside the car.
‘I’ll pick you up in a couple of hours, I’m headed to a meeting. And IF you happen to finish earlier, wait for me to come and fetch you!’ Mom called out to us as she drove away.
‘Aren’t you even a little bit excited?’ I asked Nikki as we walked in.
‘Uhh, let me see, this jerk chose to get married, have a couple of kids, and disappear from our lives one fine day with no explanation, and now he resurfaces as randomly as he disappeared and you want to know if I’m EXCITED? Well, no, psycho. I’m not excited. I can’t wait for him to do something stupid so I can punch the crap out of his smug face.’ Ohh-kay, then. Nikki was not excited. She could have just said that.
The restaurant was empty when we walked in, except for a couple of twenty-something girls who looked like they had wandered in straight from bed. We were about fifteen minutes early, but I looked into every square inch to make sure we hadn’t missed him.
‘Where are you going, psycho? That’s the loo!’ Nikki yelled. She had found us a corner table and made herself comfortable. I walked back, a little embarrassed, to the table. Those half-awake girls were looking in my direction. I sat down and tried to take it all in. I was going to meet my dad. MY DAD. This was really happening. Maybe this was BLG’s birthday gift to me!
‘What if he had a good reason to disappear, though?’ I blurted out. I must have had a death wish considering Nikki’s mood.
‘Yeah? Let’s see. What could it have been?’ Nikki said, scratching her chin, and I knew she was going to go on one of her mockathons. ‘Maybe a wicked witch put a curse on him, making him invisible to us this whole time, when all he’s been doing is looking after us.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘Or,’ she continued. ‘MAYBE he was helping Major Cage keep our world safe from aliens!’
‘Okay, you’ve made your point,’ I said and opened the menu.
‘Oh, OH, I’ve got a good one!’ Nikki said.
‘I don’t want to hear it!’ I said.
‘Oh, but I so want to tell you!’
I plugged my ears and went ‘lalalalalala’ and almost didn’t hear it when a man who bore an uncanny resemblance to Ozzy – you know, the singer Ozzy Osbourne (look him up on Google, it’s worth it!) – walked over to us and said, ‘Hello, girls.’
You know how they say ‘I snapped out of my dream world’? Yeah, I literally snapped out of it. Like, my neck twitched, my eyes popped out of their sockets and my head bobbed around for a few seconds in stunned silence. This man standing before us was no ex-CIA agent. He looked more like the kind of guy my fantasy dad would have shot on his way to capturing the bad guys. Let me explain. He was bald. As in, BALD bald. Voldemort bald. That was the only thing that differentiated him from the real Ozzy. He was dressed entirely in black – black jeans, black t-shirt, black jacket (and it wasn’t even cold). Tattoos covered both his arms as far up as I could see. There was even one peeking out of his collar, on to his neck. He wore death metal rings, some leathery bands on his wrist, an earring and – wait for it – he had kohl-lined eyes. I had thought I would never know who I was till I met my dad. But something else happened as I stood face to face with this man who looked like what my mom calls ‘the picture of mid-life crisis’: everything about Nikki made perfect sense. Even her wannabe goth-ness. I mean, all the tattoos and death-metal accessories in the world couldn’t hide his adorable, helpless Bambi eyes. That’s right. My dad was Bambi with an Ozzy Complex. My mom always said that the eyes reveal the soul of a person. Going by her own logic, my dad is just lost, not ‘a mental case’ like Mom says or a ‘selfish jerk’ like Nikki says.
Nikki and I were too busy being dumbfounded to speak. I could understand my own shock, but why was Nikki reacting this way? Had she forgotten what he looked like or something?
‘So what are we having? This place has really good waffles,’ my dad said.
Wow. The man is meeting his twelve-year-old daughter whom he has never set eyes on before and the first thing he says is, ‘This place has really good waffles’? Was he KIDDING me? There was so much I wanted to say, so many questions I wanted to fire, but the words wouldn’t form one coherent sentence in my head. So I did the one thing that made sense and ordered the waffles.
‘So are you going to get to the point and tell us why you have chosen to resurface or are we going to keep talking about waffles?’ Nikki said. There it was. That’s what I wanted to say.
‘A sharp tongue. Just like your mother,’ he said.
‘You mean the woman you left with two kids in tow? That one?’ Nikki was on a roll.
‘I left her? Is that what you’ve been told?’ he raised his voice a little and it made me uncomfortable. I don’t like raised voices. Especially in public places.
‘Okay, she left you, and you didn’t bother to fight for us,’ I decided to pitch in and help Nikki.
‘Yes, why commit to pointless things like parenting when you can commit to hideous tattoos for a lifetime?’ Nikki took over. I was DYING to remind her of the NINJA tattoo she got last year by accident, but restrained myself.
‘It’s not what you think.’ He almost swallowed his words. ‘But that’s okay, because I’m not here to talk about that.’
‘What ARE you here to talk about?’ Nikki said, and the waiter showed up with our waffles. I hate it when that happens. You’re in the middle of a heated discussion and the waiter insists on cutting every piece of your waffles for you and making sure your glasses are full and you can’t say a word till he’s done. When the waiter finally left the table, Nikki and I kept waiting for an answer as our dad swallowed and swallowed some more. What was he hesitating so much about? Was he going to confess to a crime or something?
‘I’m getting married and I want to reconnect with you both to see if we can be a family again.’
I dropped my fork dramatically and it made a clanging sound on the floor. So he WAS confessing to a crime.
‘Who now?’ Nikki, the queen of blunt deliveries, completed my sentence.
‘She’s a psychic dog whisperer,’ my dad said without making eye contact. I had this hollow is-this-what-I-was-waiting-for feeling in my chest. Nikki’s reaction was more along the lines of murderous rage. This was so anti-climactic. Our long lost father finally reconnected with us, and all he could talk about were waffles and his psychic dog whisperer. I could feel my heart shrink to the size of a lemon.
‘So what is a psychic dog whisperer?’ I asked. I figured I might as well amuse myself because when a situation gets really bad and out of control, the best you can do is see the humour in it.
‘Well, she can communicate with dogs, uhh, obviously, that’s what dog whisperers do,’ he said, trying to make it look like it was a perfectly legit profession. I dug Nikki’s side with my elbow to get her to join in the fun, but she was too busy being consumed with rage.
‘But what is a psychic dog whisperer?’ I pressed on. If I had to sit here, I was going to get my disappointment’s worth.
‘Uhh, I don’t really know much about these things, but let’s talk about you!’ Ah. So now he was interested in me.
‘Let’s see. If a psychic communicates with the spirits of dead people and a dog whisperer communicates with dogs, then a psychic dog whisperer must be able to communicate with … dead dogs?’ I said, trying to keep a straight face. Ozzy mumbled something. ‘So where did you meet someone so … uhh … exotic?’ I asked. It was getting more and more difficult not to laugh.
‘On a camp in the Himalayas,’ he said. That made sense.
‘I’ve had enough of this!’ Nikki got up to leave.
‘Sit down, Nix,’ Ozzy said.
‘Don’t you dare call me that!’ Nikki gritted her teeth.
Ozzy let out a sad sigh. ‘I’m so bad at this,’ he mumbled. ‘I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment to you both.’ He welled up. I felt a corner of my lemon-sized heart melting. Maybe there was another side to this.
‘Well, you’re going to have to try harder than that,’ Nikki said and started walking away. I had no choice but to follow.
Ozzy came after us. ‘At least let me drop you home.’
‘Nope. I’m calling Mom,’ Nikki said and pulled out her phone to call Mom.
‘Just let me drop you,’ he said again, but Nikki wasn’t listening. She was too busy willing the call to go through. ‘Nina,’ Ozzy said. It was the first time he called my name. ‘I hope you don’t hate me as much as your sister does.’
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know what I thought or felt. But hate seemed too strong a word. I think ‘heart-wrenching disappointment’ should cover it.
‘Mom! Come get us already!’ we heard Nikki screaming into the phone. ‘Yes, NOW! Okay, do that. Even better.’ She hung up.
‘We have a friend coming over to pick us up, so you can go now,’ Nikki said as she got done with the call. A friend? Mom was probably stuck at the meeting on the other end of town but she was actually sending Dhruv to pick us up?
‘Fine,’ Ozzy said. ‘I’ll wait.’
‘Fine,’ Nikki said.
‘Fine,’ Ozzy said again.
‘Fine.’
God. Why do I always get stuck between lunatics? We stood there for what felt like the length of the entire Lord of the Rings movie. Especially given the affectionate father-daughter vibes going on. And finally, a familiar SUV pulled up. It was Ashwin Uncle, not Dhruv. That made more sense now considering Dhruv doesn’t have a car and is still a minor. But something happened as the car drew closer and Ozzy and Ashwin Uncle caught each other’s eyes. From the look on Ashwin Uncle’s face, I could tell he had absolutely no idea that we were meeting my dad. And worse, the look on Ozzy’s face! I can only describe the vibe as the relationship between vampires and werewolves. Ozzy’s eyes lit up with murderous rage as Nikki’s had a little while ago.
‘Now it all makes sense,’ Ozzy said.
‘Don’t,’ Ashwin Uncle said as he quickly got down and pulled us inside the car. It sounded more like a threat.
‘No wonder they think I’m the villain in this story,’ Ozzy said and laughed darkly as we drove away.
Nikki was too mad to notice any of it, but I suddenly had the same feeling in the pit of my stomach that I felt when Mom and Ashwin Uncle last fought over the intervention. My mom’s words rang in my ears again: ‘If you’re such a hero, tell them!’
There was an eerie silence in the car as Ashwin Uncle drove us home. Nikki sat in the front, her head out the window. I finally caught Ashwin Uncle’s eye in the rearview mirror. I don’t know how to describe it, but he didn’t look like himself.
Happy birthday to me.
7
Game On
Posted by Nina on 20 June 2014 at 3.45 p.m.
I know I haven’t blogged in a while, but I’ve been busy watching my life fall apart. No, I’m not being dramatic. If you think it’s my dad or Ashwin Uncle, that’s just the tip of the growing pile of Things Wrong with Nina’s Life. The last week has been a blur. In a peculiar turn of events, the news of my dad’s wedding has turned Mom into a crazy person (again!). I initially thought she wanted to get back together with him, but that’s not it at all. She’s been saying things like, ‘Even HE is getting married, but I can’t seem to.’ It’s all been very confusing because we didn’t even know she wanted to get married. Even that whole episode with Dhiraj last year was just about winning and nothing to do with wanting to be married. So I don’t understand.
Ashwin Uncle has mysteriously become ‘busy’ ever since I asked him what the hell was going on, and I don’t even have the time to wonder about that, because there are way more annoying matters demanding my immediate attention such as:
Aunt Neeti’s half-American stepson Adam is going to be staying with us for the next few weeks, and Nikki and I are supposed to give up our room and sleep in the living room or with Mom (!!) because he’s half American and must be treated like royalty. Of course, Mom did not jump at this idea because, as you know, she’s no fan of Aunt Neeti. But it turns out there is a huge jing-bang coming down from the US, and my grandparents and the more hospitable aunts and uncles have run out of room. Besides, they felt Nikki and I would be the right people to ‘entertain’ Adam. ‘Yeah, sure. Because we’re belly dancers!’ Nikki said, when she heard that. Whatever, I hope he’s not another pesky little brat like that Polka Dot I had to endure last year.
Anna has been gaining too many points on me this last week when I’ve been distracted with family drama. So I’ve decided to forget everything that’s happening in my life that I cannot control (Ozzy and his wedding, Mom and her tantrums, Nikki and her temper, Ashwin Uncle and his secret, Adam his royal highness) and focus on the London Exchange Programme at the End of the Tunnel. I am going to channel all my anger and frustration into winning this and showing Anna who’s boss. For once, I feel this maddening, overwhelming urge to WIN something the way Mom and Nikki do. Because, see, what’s the point in getting upset about what you cannot control? Anna has managed to trick Omen with her ‘prudence’ and Ms D’Souza with cupcakes. Yes, her mom bakes yummy cupcakes when she’s not working at the American Embassy AND supplies them to orphanages ‘just because’. #SlowClap. So, yes. This is what I’m up against. But I will not accept defeat so easily. Anna might have teachers, cupcakes and the perfect mom backing her up, but I have talent and all this anger and frustration fuelling me, so game on, Anna.
Weekends Are for Wimps
Posted by Nina on 21 June 2014 at 7.03 a.m.
I don’t know who came up with the bizarre tradition of sleeping in on Saturdays, but he clearly had nothing better to do with his life. I, on the other hand, could use a head start on the coming week. So. I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet (sorry, #TMI), but I’ve made a list of stuff I need to do to score over Anna. I don’t mean to be obsessive, but you know what they say about ins
piration striking and all. Actually, I don’t know what they say either but I’m sure they say something.
So here goes:
Suck up to call-me-Anju, a.k.a., Anjana Ma’am, our weird history teacher. See, Anju, as she insists on being called, claims to have taught in some alternative schools and believes that there should be no difference between the student and the teacher. Now that is very cool as a concept, but the problem is when you realize there really is no difference between the student and teacher. As in, the teacher does not KNOW more than the student. So when she says, ‘It’s a journey, we’re all learning together,’ she actually means it. So yes, sucking up to call-me-Anju is more of an exercise in humility because I’m pretty sure my friends – all right, Akaash – would disown me. But I’ve decided to be focused. Call-me-Anju has a VOTE on who gets the exchange programme. So I will do whatever it takes to make this work.
Get Mom to put up a stall at the school fancy fete. Since Anna’s mom will most definitely have a cupcake stall, I’ll have to get Mom to come up with something more original.
Must catch up on sports. Since Anna plays squash and the only sport I know is Quidditch, must at least form a club or something to talk about sports.
Anna has done nothing for the environment yet. Must launch full-fledged green movement on Monday. Maybe I should get Akaash to help me with this. Since we blew up the school swimming pool last year in a crazy chemistry experiment, this might be a good way to show the headmistress that we’re making amends.
Hang on, Mom wants me. I hope it’s not another am-I-fat-am-I-a-loser-are-you-embarrassed-by-me pity party. Like I said, she has lost it. The last time I had an actual conversation with her was the day after we met Ozzy. She felt guilty about having abandoned us with the family abandoner and was trying to make amends by making half-cooked waffles for breakfast. #Meta. Since Nikki was in no mood to indulge her this time, she ended up launching into a litany of insults about everything from her lack of culinary skills to her bad parenting style and I had to intervene.