I sat squished in between my sister and Jack, directly in front of my grandmother at the kitchen table while she judged the scene in front of her. Letting out a set of "hmphs" and "tsk's", she finally leaned back and settled for a frown plastered across her face.
"Your father is not going to be pleased," she finally said emphasizing each word.
In most cases this would be less awkward but because Jack was sitting next to me scarfing down eggs I had an idea to shove his head in the hot frying pan on the stove.
"Yaya, what are you doing here?," I asked after a minute of glaring at Jack who still could not catch a hint.
I did not want him to leave because I needed answers about last night and I didn't know when the next time I would see him. I was not going to chase him through all of Florida.
"I come back to New York to hear that you and your sister had left home with no address for your poor grandmother. But what I don't understand is why your father hasn't dragged your behinds all the way home," she said her arms still crossed, her accent thick as ever.
My Yaya was my mother's mom. She was a Bukharan Jew raised in Greece, and spoke a mixture of the two languages which my sister had never bothered to learn. She followed both customs and we addressed her as Yaya, which meant grandmother in Greek. We got along well enough but she had a certain hate for my father since my mother ran away from home to marry him. I suppose she thinks he was with her for the money, but he built his own empire so I didn't think that was the case. After my mother died my grandmother moved to Europe and only returned to New York for major holidays, she could not stand my father or his business.
Ignoring my question she started again, "So you are finally fed up with your father's hara (shit)?"
I placed my fingertips to my temples, I could feel another headache coming on.
"Zara, why don't you show Yaya the flowers you planted on the porch," I finally said, looking pointedly at Zara.
"I don't want-," Zara said but I interrupted.
"Zara, your flowers," I hissed slowly losing my patience but she caught on.
"Yaya, come outside," she said grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet.
"We will continue this conversation Camilla," my Yaya said before disappearing outside with Zara.
I turned to Jack and he looked up at me. Running my eyes over his body, I mentally rolled my eyes at his beautiful built.
"The only reason I have not kicked you out of my house is because I need to know what happened last night," I said. "And don't pretend you are acting the part of a good Samaritan, because you had no reason to help me."
"Sam, he drugged you and I didn't want to deal with the fallback of his spiteful decisions," Jack said back to me.
"You took care of me... because you are scared of me?," I slightly chuckled.
"Of your father," he concluded. "But I see he won't be an issue because he's no longer in the picture."
My jaw slightly dropped.
"Without your father backing you, you are nothing," he said getting up putting his dishes in the sink.
As his back was turned to me, I decided to pull one of my most rash movements of the century. I grabbed the kitchen knife off the table, and as his back was turned I kicked the back of his knees with such force that his legs crumpled to the floor. Within seconds my knife was at the base of his throat, and my hand roughly grabbing his hair pushing his head backwards into my stomach.
YOU ARE READING
Unfamiliar Territory
Teen Fiction"And this one over here," said the owner of the trailer park. "This is yours." I had never lived in a trailer park before. I had never lived anywhere but my house before. The place where my parents raised me and were my family grew. This to me was v...
