Childhood Games

~Chapter 2~

Naomi

"What the fuck is that doing here?" I practically shouted, my eyes still focused on him.

I could sense everyone else's eyes were on me. I didn't care.

I felt like I was suffocating in the middle of the airport. Everything was turning an ominous shade of red all around me, and it felt like I almost needed help to catch my breath. It was an impact I had never experienced before. Like a train hitting me straight in my chest. His eyes lowered into a glare, one that I remember so well that night. Was he serious?

"Naomi!" My grandma snapped. I broke away my eye contact only to aim that intensity at the three who probably knew about this the entire time. They weren't innocent. No one was in my eyes.

"Um..." I heard a faint voice who I could only assume was my uncle's dumbass girlfriend Jessica, "I think that the bags are approaching so we should probably get those?"

I groaned and walked towards the conveyor belt pushing past everyone who got nearly in my way. My adrenaline seemed like it was bursting at my flesh.

Alan.

The name of so much unwanted history. It makes my heart twinge. It makes my blood boil. My head hurt. My breath shorten. It makes me remember things that I spent years trying to forget.

But how could I when I had nightmares every night?

Stop. I thought. Don't think about that.

I grabbed my black and pink polka-dotted suitcase and turned back around towards my family. They all looked so concerned, but this is who I was now. No more was I the innocent girl that obeyed every rule. I wasn't the kind girl that lent a hand to every single in person in need. Why try when all they do is turn on you instead? People were evil.

"Let's-uh-get these bags to the car and get something to eat shall we?" my uncle suggested. Everyone started walking towards the exit, but I didn't. I stood where I was. There was no way in hell I was going to pretend everything about this was okay and probably go eat at some stuffy diner. So I did what I thought was best in that situation.

"Did you move?" I asked my uncle, folding my arms in the process. Everyone looked confused. "I'm asking you if you moved? Are you still in that same house?"

My uncle nodded.

"That's all the information I needed," I said right before walking past everyone, flagging down one of the taxis, and hopping in. It smelled of Listerine and rubber, and I quickly understood why when the stubby cab driver opened his mouth.

"Where are you going, sweetheart?" he asked, smiling so wide that I saw that nine of his thirty-two teeth were missing. I sighed and pushed the now tangled hair out of my face.

"901 Sanders Street, please?" I told. He nodded his head and began accelerating the vehicle. We drove past the doors to the baggage claim, and I could see them helping my grandmother into Uncle James' fancy jaguar he spent half his time talking about. I suddenly felt bad for leaving her so I began texting her.

Hey, I started, go out and have something to eat. I know you're hungry. You deserve it even if you lied to me about who would be showing up :)

Sent.

If there was one person who I couldn't stay mad at for long, it was my grandmother. She was the only one who has ever wanted me a part of their lives as much as I have for so many other people. She was the first to take me in when my parents abandoned me to do their own things which, apparently, did not include taking care of their only daughter. I loved her more than this situation, and I didn't want her to think otherwise.

See? I wasn't that huge of a bitch.

I rested my head against the window and watched as San Francisco rolled past my eyes. This place that once felt like home held more memories than my head could contain. I was born here. Raised here. Knew all the ins and outs and ups and downs and in-betweens. But at that moment, I felt as if I were foreign.

Not to mention the feeling of anxiety from all the questions that were going through my head.

Did they all plan this together? Who actually knew out of all of them? Did he know? No judging by his face, he didn't know I was coming either.

And then the real question hit me:

Why is he here?

I unlocked my phone and tapped the call button next to my grandma's name. After three rings, she finally answered.

"Hello?" she answered. I could hear clanking of dishes and Uncle James telling the hostess the number of people in their party. A crisp and clear "Four." So she did stop off.

"Can you please go somewhere away from them?" I begged. I heard the clanking become faint, signaling she was accepting my request.

"What's going on?" she asked rather sternly.

"Pushing past the fact that he's there, can you please tell me why exactly he's with Uncle James and Jessica?" I pried. There was silence on the other end. "Grandma," I sighed. The taxi driver looked through his rearview mirror at me and gave a toothy smile. I averted my eyes and awaited a response.

"Naomi, he-"

"Stella! We have a table. Come on and order!" I heard Uncle James interrupt. She sighed heavily.

"Naomi, we can all talk about this when we arrive there. I'm going to go eat. I'll see you later," she promised, and then I heard the phone offer three short beeps indicating this conversation was done for now.

I locked my phone and threw it in my purse. What did I expect? The full-out truth right then and there? I knew there were a lot of other details she wouldn't even care to share with me until I wasn't in public for me to scream. She knew me all too well.

"Everything okay?" The driver asked.

"No," I responded. Why lie? Lying got no one anywhere.

Okay maybe a couple of people, but not me.

"Want to talk about it?"

"No." He was taken aback.

"You sure? Because I'm a very good listener. In fact," he accented the 'T,' "my brother just called and told me what a great listener I am. You see, him and his wife are having some troubles at home and they want to call it quits but they don't know how their four kids will take it, but I think-"

And I think at that point, I completely shut the world out and immersed myself within my own thoughts and plans.

What was I going to do about this?

"Im so screwed," I whispered to myself.

I just didn't know how screwed I truly was.