The Headline

Chapter III - Dining Where the Land is Flat and the People are Crazy

Chapter III

Dining Where the Land is Flat and the People are Crazy

I was being completely honest in saying I did not remember this house. At the first glance, the words that popped in my head were “log cabin”. But calling this a cabin wasn’t right. Cabins weren’t three stories high, by the look of it. The front pavement of a log cabin wasn’t made in rocks. Log cabins didn’t have a porch completely surrounding the second story. Maybe log cabin was the wrong word. Maybe Swiss house might have been more fitting.

            Either way, there was a millisecond in my brain where I thought “hey, this might not be so bad after all.”

            But of course, that thought disappeared the second the front door burst open and I was welcomed by an amass of limbs, or more particularly arms, that appeared in front of me, fighting for dominion over my poor perfectly dressed body.  

            The hands belonged to three of my four great aunts. Why they were here to being with was seriously a mystery to me. Either way, at the moment, they were pretty much smothering me so I had more pressing matters at hands.

            They were crooning and saying how happy they were to have me around but I was kind of not listening and trying to get free. Especially when a Pekingese dog—the ones that have a face that looks like it bumped into a wall—threw itself in the lovely mess, barking and jumping and honestly I think he was trying to hump my legs. Or maybe the more marking moment was when my chubby four feet three inches high great aunt Rachel—the owner of the Pekingese dog, I couldn’t believe she still had that stupid dog—came rushing to me, grabbing me around the waist, and with how tall I was wearing my Prada boots she pretty much buried her face in my cleavage.

            Always a nice way to say hello.

            I forced a smile and giving little slaps in her back, a “there, there” kind of gesture. Honestly I felt socially awkward like Sheldon Cooper.

            Luckily, a voice came to my rescue. “Come on, let her go now. I want to see my granddaughter.”

            Okay, that might not mean rescue after all.

            I looked back at my father that was standing a few feet behind me, pleading for help with my eyes, while he just kept his laugh in check.

            Obviously, everyone automatically got out of the way and Cruella de Vil minus the killing puppies strike strode my way. To show emphasis, my great-aunt grabbed her dog and kept it away from her.

            Okay maybe Cruella de Vil was a bit over the top… It was just that my grandmother didn’t actually look like those homey Hallmark shopper kind of grandma’s. She looked like the kind that drank martini at the club house, wore heavy perfumes and flirted with the pool boys. Good thing we didn’t have a pool. Or well I hope we didn’t. Did we have a pool?

            I shook my head, clearing my thoughts and smiled at the woman without one white hair looking up at me. Blond hair and blue eyes. People said we looked alike. That was a scary thought.

            She placed her hands on my shoulder, not giving me a hug, but giving me a throughout inspection. “Naomi,” she smiled, “look how much you’ve grown.”

            I scrunched my nose a bit. “I’m cheating.”

            My grandmother pursed her lips. I felt like I was looking at Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada. “What might you mean by that?”