Spain the First Time (Part ii)

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adoption, blog, blogging, brother, family, humor, journal, life, memories, planes, siblings, Spain, transportation, travel

James (my brother for those who don’t know) and I have always been fair; we attribute this to a game that we implemented when he was very little.  He used to be extremely aggressive, (side note he was adopted at one and a half, his bioMom did a major disservice to him keeping him as long as she did) he once bit me so hard with his razor sharp baby teeth that my leg bled from every spot his teeth had touched.  Once playing cards with my Dad he went behind me gripped onto my hair picked up his legs and held on for dear life.  My Mom tried to pry his hands off me, while I screamed in agony (I had to slam my body (his body still behind me) into a wall to get him to let go).  When he injured himself in day to day life, he would blame the first person he saw.  Say he stubbed his toe in his room; he would walk into the living room and see me then yell and scream about how horrible a person I was for his injury.  So at some point in time we came up with the punching game.  A game where one person could choose to punch the other as hard as they could, or soft, in turn the receiver had to do the opposite and that would continue for a few rounds.  This means that one person was the leader and the other the follower, and one might believe that his game could have detrimental effects, but again we have always been fair.  The game wouldn’t work if the starter constantly punched as hard as they could every time (side note I was not punching my two year old brother with my twelve year old self as hard as I could, but he was).   So somewhere along the way we became really trusting of one another, super close, and we share better than any siblings I know.

James and I waiting for the plane to St. Louis

Both James and I love the window seat, and we also always want to sit together (that works out in my parents favor all the time).  We decided that we would switch off who got the window seat, and he being super fair allowed me to have the window seat first.  The flight we were on was connecting in St. Louis.  I sat in the window seat; James next to me, the seat next to him was empty.  We talked about Pokémon or something when hands down the hottest guy sat in the chair next to James.

He had a tribal tattoo across his arm that made his arm muscles look sick (sick good not sick bad).  I melted into my seat.  In no time he was talking with James and I like we were best friends.  I know for sure he thought I was James’ Mom , people did all the time, in fact just twenty minutes prior James and I walked through first class, our parents lagging far behind, and a fat man with glasses glared at us both in disgust.  It took everything I had not to say “YOU THINK I HAD HIM WHEN I WAS TEN?!”  I was enraged for us and for teen Moms everywhere; um shut your eyes up bro no one can expect you to understand you are never going to have a baby, but you sure are nursing that baby bump you call a belly well!

As tribal tattoo talked to us, I desperately wished we would be staying in St. Louis for a while.  He told us he was in the Army and he was stationed in S.L. for the next year.  At one point he got up to use the restroom, I looked at James and said something to the effect of “You can have this seat if you want.”

“No, Sonya you have it now I will take it later.”  He smiled at me so very proud of himself for being selfless.

“James, you can have the seat now and on the next flight.”

“That wouldn’t be fair then you never get the window seat.”  He looked at me sadly.

Damn it, why must you be so fair?  I thought as tribal tattoo returned.  I decided that James was just saving me from the embarrassment of being utterly obvious that I was digging the guy.  I was wrong…

When we landed, tribal tattoo gathered all his belongings slowly.  Then one of his Army brothers walked by and told him to follow.  He stepped into the isle and as he was getting ready to say goodbye when James yelled at him “Sonya thinks you are hot!”

Holy crap. I was mortified.  It couldn’t have been louder.  The entire group of people left on the plane looked over to see who Sonya was.  Hi oh hi it’s just me, I am going to shove dirty socks in my brothers mouth now, don’t mind me.  Hot, how does he even know what hot is… UGHHHHHHH.

Tribal tattoo (who did tell us his name but I have no idea what it was) looked at me pathetically.  Probably not for the reason I thought but I was convinced that the time that I was really unattractive and I wanted to sink into the seat and disappear.

James smiled exuberantly (he remembers all of this, and said “Yeah I have always been a little shit.”  No, just “helpful”), not because he had told a secret but because he believed he got across an idea that neither one of us was willing to address.

Outside the plane tribal tattoo (in my diary I called him St. Louis) smiled at me, but I just blew past him like I didn’t know him because I was 17 and never had a boy look twice at me.  I have never seen him since, or if I have I haven’t noticed.  So Tribal Tattoo guy, if you met a redhead ten years ago on a flight to St Louis I actually do still think about you.  Hope all is well.  P.S. I really did think you were hot.

Fortune Teller(s)

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diary, europe, family, fortune, humor, life, personal, siblings, strange, travel

Years ago while walking the crowded streets of Tucson (my one time home); during one of the strangest street fairs I have been to, a woman dressed in civilian clothes sat at a tiny black table with a handmade sign that read Fortune Teller, readings $5.  My girlfriends urged me to get my Fortune read and in the spirit of the day, I agreed.

The woman asked to see my dominant hand, which I handed to her.  Why didn’t the sign read palm reader? I wondered.

“You have a boyfriend.” I did.

“You are both quite close, but something is coming between you.”  She traced the lines of my hand, “You are planning on leaving for a long time.”  I was.

“There will be an ocean between you soon, you will return to the states… but you will never return to him.”

I yanked my hand away and leered at her.  My friends looked at me appalled, as they were friends of him as well.

“Did I say, never return?  I meant that you will be gone for a long while; you will end up back together.  It will take a very long time though.”

That information did not sooth my soul and just because I made an evil face at my fortune teller I could not change what would be; we broke up.  I moved to Spain with my family.

Cold cold winter in my backyard.

***

The morning we moved out of our apartment in Valencia, Spain I woke up feeling like death.  I was nauseous and dizzy.  I dragged myself out of bed, into the kitchen where my family talked excitedly about going to England.  Before I sat at the table I informed my Mom that I felt ill and she responded in a very unlike my Mother type of way.

“You’re sick?!  What have you done?  Sit down and eat.”

I looked at her almost horrified, feeling as though I would throw up all over the table if I put one morsel of food in my mouth.  I slumped over in my chair, while my Mom gave me the stink eye.  James swung his pancake in the air talking about this and that.  Dad was attempting to take a mental picture of our belongings in the hopes that we wouldn’t forget anything.

“Eat.”  Mom demanded of me.

I ripped off the smallest piece of pancake possible and popped it in my mouth.  The fact that I hate pancakes added insult to injury.

Everything else until the moment we got a hotel in Barcelona Spain is a blur of talking myself out of up chucking all over the train or the plane, and my Mom eyeing me like a store clerk trying to catch me in the act.

We got to the hotel, our parents had one room, James and I had another.  I ran to the restroom when James leapt in front of me screaming about the fact that he didn’t to have to deal with the smell of upchuck, so he should get to go first.  I agreed and ten minutes later I was finally free to die in the bathroom that of course smelled like crap (thank you James I will never forget it).

A while later my Dad came to check on me, stating “Your Mom has been throwing up for the past twenty minutes I wonder what you guys have?”

 

A day or two later we flew into London, England.  Mom and I were finally feeling somewhat better, we walked around London for about half a day when James and Dad informed us that they were about to be violently ill, and all I wanted to do was take a crap in the bathroom just before James threw up so that he too could know the horrible situation he put me through.  The most unbelievable thing is how accommodating my entire family was to everyone that was sick but me; as I was the only one that was forced to eat, and not to puke while on a train or plane.

 

Back in the United States my Mom confided in me that she was enraged when I told her I was ill the morning of our excursions beginning.  No kidding. I asked her why and she told me that just before we left for Europe she had gone to a fortune teller.  The teller told her wonderful magical things about the life that she would have in Europe.  The only bad seed in the lot was me, because while there I would become pregnant.

I stared at my Mom in disbelief, mainly because she was with me any time I met a guy and all of the ones that gave me the time of day had faces only a Mother would love.  Not to mention the fact that she was with me pretty much 24/7.  Apparently pregnancy and airborne illnesess are the same thing.  While she explained everything all I could think was, why she didn’t just ask me.

***

I am weary of fortune tellers now, not because they are accurate – nor inaccurate… it’s just that they majorly screwed with my life and I am not sure I am prepared for the next wonderful bit of nonsense news they might bestow on or about me.