Not Your Average Nerd

Chapter Two

“I don’t know,” I told her, chewing on my lower lip. Quick, I thought, this is my chance to think of something. What’s coming up?

She sighed heavily into the phone. “We haven’t seen you in years, Ileana. We’re not asking you to donate one of your kidneys to us; we just want you to come for a visit. Plus, don’t you have that spring-break deal next week?”

Holy shit, she was right. Spring break was next week and I didn’t even realize it. Wait, how did she know? “How do you know?” I asked.

“Your father already checked the school’s website when he was booking your plane ticket.”

I didn’t know how to reply. How was I supposed to tell a lie about school if she already knew I was off the next week? Hell, how was I supposed to tell any sort of lie if I had a plane ticket waiting for me somewhere in the mail system?

“I don’t know about this mamă,” I muttered into the phone while standing up from my chair. I could hear my father in the background gushing about how excited he was for my arrival. He was trying to use the ‘emotions’ card on me. Oh, he was good. “This is pretty sudden. What am I supposed to tell Sarah at work?”

My mother sniffled. “Well, if you really can’t make it, then I’m sure we can get our money back. I hope Adrian won’t be too upset to come home next week and find out that you’re not coming.” She began to cry. How dare she attempt to guilt me into going? That was a low play to take. Just for that, I want to tell her no. No, no no, there’s no way in hell that I ever want to return to that place as long as I have a pulse.

“I’m sorry mamă but I can’t go.” Even though she couldn’t see it, I was putting my foot down.

“Why?” She asked, nearly sobbing.

“Because… because I can’t go home. Oregon was a terrible place for me, ma. I couldn’t bear to see it all again… to be reminded of the hell I was put through.”

“You’re not going to think of your family and how much we miss you? Do you know how selfish that is?” The cries began to get louder. I had to place the phone on my desk.

“I’m not being selfish, mamă. You, Adrian, tată, and Anica know that I love and miss you all very much and if I could, I would have you move to Texas with me,”

“But I don’t want to be in Texas.” Mamă nearly shouted, cutting me off in mind sentence. My eyes rolled.

“That’s not the point I was trying to say. I was trying to say that I want to be close to you all, but…”

“The move back home!” She shouted, cutting me off yet again. My pet-peeve.  Was it really that hard to wait for me to finish speaking?

“MAMĂ,” I shouted into the phone using the same tone she had, “I love and miss you all very much, but… I can’t go to Oregon. I just, can’t.”

She was still crying, waiting to see if her tears were going to change my mind. I sat there in my chair, my phone back at my ear, waiting for her to finish. See, it would have been different if I knew she was being serious, but I knew for a fact that she was BS-ing it all. Well, I knew she wanted me back for a visit but the tears? The extreme sadness? No, I grew up with that women. She was always the master of getting what she wanted. It was possible for her to fly down to Texas if she really wanted to see me as bad as she was trying to make it seem. But I knew she would never do that. Crocodile tears were my mother’s specialty. Giving into her was like giving a bratty child a reward for throwing a bitch-fit over something.

“It’s not going to work.” I announced after three long minutes passed. Yes, I kept the time on my watch. Yes, I did wear a watch.

“It’s not?” She asked, suddenly free of emotions.

“Nope.” I said. Well, nu… technically. What, did you assume I actually carried out the conversation with her in English? Everything I said to my mother had to be in Romanian unless I wanted to hear her run her mouth about it for hours upon hours.

My mother was suddenly quiet… too quiet. Nothing good ever came from my mother once she went quiet. One time she went quiet at the dinner table when I was eleven years old. I had asked her how her day went and instead of getting back a normal response like, oh it was fine darling, how about yours? She got quiet. Five minutes later, she sprung the news on my brother and I that she was pregnant with a new sister. My father just sat there, drinking his water as if he had nothing to do with it.

“Mamă?” I asked, finally breaking the three-minute silence. She only chuckled.

“So, you’re going to tell me that you’re not going to come?” Her voice was flat but still had an eeriness to it. Eerie enough to make the hairs on my arms stand up.

“No.” I said, once again, suddenly afraid to hear the next thing to come from her mouth. Thank god we weren’t in the same room having a conversation like this. I swallowed as I heard her chuckle behind the phone.

“Oh!” She said, suddenly less-creepy. “Okay, I see.” And to my surprise, she began laughing. Laughing as if I had told her the funniest joke in the world. So what did I do? The only thing I could think of doing. I began laughing with her, like she had told me the funniest joke in the world. Damn, I thought, this went a lot easier than I thought it would have.

Suddenly, the beams of sunshine went away and the rain clouds came back out. Her laugh went away and I was left laughing alone. Uh, oh.

“Mamă?” I asked again, a lot quieter than I had before.

She exhaled loudly through her nose. Aw shit. “Ileana Ligia Stoica,” she shouted. Anger was thick in her voice. Plus, she used my middle name. Middle names are only given to a child so they can know when the hell they are in trouble, and I knew at that moment that I was pretty knee-deep. “You’re going to get those tickets, check the date, and get your ass on that plane when that day comes. Then, when you arrive in Oregon, we’re going to take you home and enjoy each other’s company like a happy family!” Funny how she told me ‘happy family’ while yelling at me like a mad-man.

Every child learns the things that they need in life to function properly and safely. Some of those things are taught to them (like how to use a toilet) while other things are learned (like never question your parents if they’re yelling at you). I knew my mother was steaming more than a fat man in a sauna, but for what-ever reason, I wanted to push my limit with her. How pissed could mamă get before she combusts, leaving tată to wipe her steamed little bits off the walls.

“And what if I don’t?” I asked, clenching my left hand into a tight fist.

Silence.

And more silence.

And even more.

“Well,” she said, finally saying something, anything. “I’m going to give you two options. You either get on the plane to come see us or you can begin planning your own funeral.” I waited for her to laugh or at least chuckle, but nope. Nothing else came from the other end of the phone.

“Are you being serious?” I asked her, still speaking when I was way passed the point of shutting the hell up. There was a chuckle.

“Pick your poison.” She said in English, and it was rare for her to speak to any of her children in English. Hell, it was our father who taught my siblings and I how to speak English. I sat in my chair, my eyes wide as saucers, imagining my mother twisting her handlebar moustache between her fingers as lightning clashed behind her.

Isn’t my choice obvious?

- - - - -

Seriously, though. I never fear my parents... unless they call my name and use my middle name. If I hear 'Rae', I know to start apologizing ASAP. :P