Note: This story has absolutely no connection to real life and is completely a work of fiction from one of the many worlds inside my head. So just play along with me and enjoy the realms of imagination which I hope everyone can do without any feelings getting hurt! :) Oh and do read the previous parts to understand the story a little more!
10... 9... 8..
Eyes. I was so scared of them before; odd now.
He hasn't changed a bit.
I cannot believe Mum stooped this low.
This man, this gloating, rude, egoistic ape stands here and just...
'Done counting yet?'
I finally opened my mouth. 'No, but I probably should have counted from a 1000, instead of a 100.'
He chuckled. 'You need to come up with better excuses for staring at my face, the old angry hag counting might be a tad overdone.'
I had visions of pulling his entire digestive system out before I replied, but he interrupted my pleasant dream.
'Oh come on, just hop on that plane, will you? The weather out there is so much better.'
I walked back to the sofa, plopped down on it and sat cross-legged. I looked up trying to spot any look of defeat.
He just took it as an invitation to come in. Maybe, silence then, is the answer.
'She even promised you don't have to do any interviews or social events with her. Hell, she doesn't mind you buying retail – that is the extent of her desperation.'
He sat next to Nohad – why doesn't this man feel an ounce awkward sitting in a stranger’s house, right beside them?
'Do it for me otherwise! I'll be your chauffeur, how about that?'
'Why am I getting married?' Silence would give no answers. Curiosity gets the better of the best of people anyway.
He looked a little taken aback at my abrupt interruption. He recovered quickly though - 'I don't know... maternal concern?'
I didn't blink. Stare him down!
'Look... 아! 물라! 진자! I really don't know. All I know is I need you back there or she will butcher me personally or worse she will rip the gallery apart.'
'You should pay me for the amount of times I have supposedly saved your pretentious spoof of a gallery. Even Mum would end up jealous of how rich I am.'
'Don't start about the gallery – you know how long I worked...'
'Sure I will – I can't believe you have the nerve to call that a gallery – it is more like a child's nursery: splashes of color every which way you turn to.
'It is called appreciation of art, and obviously potty-brained-you wouldn't know or understand.'
'Ha! I can't believe you just used potty brained against me. Totally helps with the nursery analogy since a kid runs the 'arty gallery'.'
We looked at each other in bewilderment. The outburst was actually the third person amongst us. Looks like she finally emerged from the chronicles of this mystical body.
Nohad took a deep breath.
'You!' she said pointing at me, 'stop ranting about the troubles of the world and get to cooking will you?'
'And YOU!' she turned to Alex. He looked a bit taken aback, as if realising someone else was actually there all this time.
'You... she said, like art? Really? What kind?'
I couldn't believe this. This was a complete betrayal of the sacred codes of friendship! Whatever happened to its sanctity, the sisterhood? I could only gape.
No, I am not overly dramatic, understand? My world just has more problems than yours.