Teeth

Chapter 2: Road to Marketa

Chapter 2: Road to Marketa

Stark

“So dad, where in Marketa are we exactly going to live?” I asked my father as we passed the border that divides Nevada and California.

“Uhm I think it’s here somewhere,” dad said as he looked through a bunch of stuff (b.t.w. I was driving so we were safe and totally not reckless).He picked a big brown envelope that had the words IMPORTANT stamped in red on it. The letter had an address written on it and it read as follows:

MR Tevin Cambridge

5086 Richards Avenue

Marketa Hills,

Marketa

"So, what do you think?" my dad asked.

"Uhm....Marketa Hills... really dad?"I sort of replied.

"Yes Marketa Hills, what’s wrong with Marketa Hills?" he asked

"It's so...superficial and uhm... fake."

"And why do you say that?"

"Dad are you kidding me...It's Marketa's version of Beverly Hills...I'm sure the house and neighborhood is grand but dad it’s so fake..."

"What's fake about it?"

"Not only is it filled with superficial airheads that have senseless plastic surgery but also the people are fake...in a sense..."

"Now Stark let’s not make rash judgments...I mean you never met anyone from Marketa let alone Marketa Hills so you can't make a decision on what you've heard or what you assume."

"Ugh whatever... But dad tell me why we really have to move? I mean I never did much that violated the rules, I had great grades, I was on the senior football team, I had a stable social life and I had the best girlfriend a guy could ask for... Why’d you have to fuck it up? Why?" I asked fiercely instantly gripping the steering wheel.

"I...I...I had to" He stuttered.

"What do mean 'you had to'?"

"I couldn't stand living there anymore... everywhere I looked I saw something that reminded me of her... I was goin’ to go crazy if I had to stay there longer... I, I mean, we had to start over, start fresh..." He said while starring sorrowfully out the window. I could understand what he meant and I could only imagine the pain he must be going through, but why? Why me? Why Marketa? Why not some other city in or around New York or even New Jersey? Why?

"So I kinda get what you're saying but why not nearer? Why so far?" I asked. Dad sighed, took a deep breath and answered.

 "I don't know...it appealed to me and something inside me told me to, some higher power, I guess." So he made a decision due to some rash assumptions and a 'voice'. I mentally rolled my eyes.

“So you telling me that God told you to move to a superficial, fake place?" I asked this time really rolling my eyes.

"I guess so..." He replied.

I left it at that, fearing that my ongoing questions may make my father even more depressed and resentful...

After about an hour we reached a cheap looking motel that looked like one of those hostels in a cheap Horror movie. My sister and I stayed in the car while my father went to get two rooms, one for him and my sister, the other for me. After a while my father returned with two keys and gave me one. He gave me a key, said goodnight and left with my sister in his arms. I got out of the car (reluctantly) and went off to room 12.