Home: A Short Story
“Nagi!”
“Ya?!”
“Let’s go!” My mother insists from the bottom of the stairs.
My eyes are locked onto the computer screen. I had been working on this assignment for the whole day, and yet I wasn’t even close to finishing. But it’s either sitting here for another hour on my own or going to dinner with my family. I glare at my word doc, as if that would help, and shut my laptop screen. I’ll come back to it later.
I pull a pair of socks from my closet and hop my way out my room and across the hall, trying to walk and dress at the same time. I reach the door at the end of the hall and knock three times. Then, without pause, open the door.
“Zizi, it’s time to go,” I say sticking my head into my brothers’ room. He looks away from the computer and sees me, taking off the large red headphones he reaches for the sweater on his bed and makes his way to me. “What did you say?” He can’t hear anyone through those things, but he knows what’s up. It’s 5:30 on a Saturday, everyone knows what happens on Saturday at 5:30. Well everyone in this family.
“Nothing,” I pull my last sock up, finally. “But don’t forget to take your retainer case.”
“Oh ya, hold on.”
Samsa
I make my way down to the first floor before him, grabbing my coat from the closet, my brother comes down a second later, turning off the house lights, as I check the front door, it’s locked, and the stove is off, Zizi had took out the samsas. My youngest brother is sitting by the garage door putting on his shoes. His cute little 7-year-old hands zipping up his boots.
“Hey sweetie, want some help?” I ask him, giving his ridiculously round, soft, squeezable, cheek a kiss. Zizi follows and copies my actions, we both crowd around our youngest brother and give him kisses he can’t escape from.
“No,” he says making wiping motions with the sleeve of his hand, we are taught a minute early age that there was no escaping from our affection. While other kids had to worry about their aunts that would pinch their cheeks, he had to worry about his vastly older siblings doing the same. Zizi helps him zip up his coat all the way up to under his chin. AHHH he’s so cute! I couldn’t resist and give him another kiss. He squawks like a baby chick and runs to the car.
I follow after quickly and grab the front seat before Zizi. He takes his loss graciously this week, rather strange since last week we had spent a few minutes complaining and trying to taser the other to submission for the spot.
Mom is already buckling the little chick in his booster seat, and Zizi joins them in the back.
The radio is off, it’s always off when we’re all in the car. My dad says it’s ’cause we’re all too noisy enough to be a distraction to him, but I’m pretty sure it’s cause my mother refuses to compete with the radio in volume to be heard.
We drive and make it to the parking lot, with all of us looking around, trying to find an empty spot in the pitch-black night. The sushi place is always crowded on Saturdays, but we always come here every Saturday and have learned to come at 5:30, right before the dinner rush.
When the line is short enough to not gain annoyance from some of the younger members of the family. So me. And Ziz too. We’re a family of five so the staff always gives us the really comfy circular booth seats, and they know where we like to sit.
I spot my friend making her way to us. “Sofia!” I greet, asking about her day, she’s really nice. Not in the boring way, but in the fun way. She makes jokes with my parents about seeing them here again, but she’s not our waitress today. It’s always weird having friends that work where your family eats, but we always make it work. When our waiter comes, we give our orders, while I add on to my mom’s. She always forgets to ask for forks for her and the cute chickie.
Speaking of him, I turn to my left and give his cheek another kiss. He gasps as if he should be surprised! He should always be on guard for my kisses.
“So what happened this week with you?” My dad starts off the weekly complaining session we wait for our food. It’s the usual, mom’s annoyed at one of her friends this week, I find it hilarious. You’d think university students would get into weird situations, but no, it’s the Uzbek mothers that have the wildest lives. So much drama for such a small collection of friends.
“How was your week, cupcake?” Zizi says, and I automatically try to poke him on the side, he twists and grabs my hand, grinning gleefully, he needs to stop making the same joke every week. It’s been eight. months. I never should have let him see that meme. He doesn’t even stutter at using that stupid word anymore. Like lighting, I strike with my left hand and land a poke to his side. He yelps. Releasing my hand in order to defend his venerable sides. That should hold him back for a few minutes. But definitely not until the end of dinner.
It’s during these times together, when we sit for meals, go out to the grocery store, doing ordinary boring things, that we have the most fun. When we try to give each other advice before making fun of each other. Between arguing about which rice brand is the best at costoc or which sashimi to order, it’s the mundane and relaxing times when we’re all together that I value the most.
References:
‘Chick with a Hat Wallpaper – Animal Wallpapers – #24704’, SU Walls, 2013 <https://suwalls.com/animals/chick-with-a-hat> [accessed 27 February 2020]
‘Circular Booth Seating – Google Search’ <https://www.google.com/search?q=circular+booth+seating&tbm=isch&ved=2ahUKEwju6aTa0vPnAhW3BjQIHcY6DcQQ2-cCegQIABAA&oq=circular+booth+seating&gs_l=img.3…0.0..4016…0.0..0.0.0…….0……gws-wiz-img.9A4-KP9_CMw&ei=zLZYXu7TG7eN0PEPxvW0oAw&bih=713&biw=1226&client=safari> [accessed 27 February 2020]
‘Samsa (Food) – Wikipedia’ <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samsa_(food)> [accessed 28 January 2020]
‘Uzbekistan | Geography & History | Britannica’ <https://www.britannica.com/place/Uzbekistan> [accessed 27 February 2020]