Gah it’s all been hectic. I’m starting the wrap my head around the fact that the stupid simulation finals are too close to actually study for and that they’ll coincide with the stupid droos exams so we’ll be examined at each subject twice. As if that’s not bad enough, they’ll be at the same time too.
Yesterday my maths teacher FB messaged an emergency class – and yes I’m actually serious – next morning. I had to pull an all-nighter studying and doing that maths assignment because I had 6 hours left till I have to drop my friend off at the airport leaving my msn on so that every time I went idle my friend could nudge me awake. She’d immigrated last year and wasn’t coping that well so she thought maybe it would be cool to fly in for a couple of weeks. There’s something a little unnerving about making sure a 19 year old is gonna make it through 19 hours at some airport in Paris unescorted. Fucking airport policies. No emergency visas unless it’s 24+ hrs? My ass. Hato3od te3mel eh, te3ed el karasi? We got that handled. Grown-ups do get handy sometimes.
I forgot to get tissues so I was determined not to need any. We almost ran a guy in a fluorescent vest over trying to find a parking spot since we had the ticket – which is ironically what helped us find the car afterwards since we couldn’t remember where we left it and the guy was still confused by the time we got back – ventured through a queer looking tent full of Asians till we identified two figures coming from a distance. She got in with her boyfriend then we waited for a friend who worked there to make sure she gets it all right because our dads were a little jittery about the couple of turns after the gate that we’re not allowed in. After a muffle of paper – ridiculous online booking – and stuffing more things in the pathetic gaps of the poor bags. Then came the farewell bit.
There’s a certain hilarity between the repulsion that exists between dads and boyfriends. This time, it was expressed in a certain hugging contest. I’m willing to bet an arm and a leg that my dad beat him to it on purpose. Dads.. Then came the acting all tough with a stiff upper lip after she leaves part. It was heart-warming seeing my dad’s upper lip twitch and his eyes bloat a little while her boyfriend kept shifting like he had a butt infection. Then came the “If you need anything” bit. My dad’s awesome. The amount of inside jokes passing back and forth between her and I was immense that the trail was almost visible in the nose-chipping cold. It was all a big déjà vu. The friend who keeps telling everybody to stay calm when he’s the only one shitting his pants. The dadoscope moments when my dad anticipated the course of action of everything 3 seconds before they take place. The competition. The couple of seconds before the hugs where everybody’s standing, time stops and you have absolutely no idea what the hell you’re doing there because the rush of that same realization is paralyzing. The double checking, triple checking and extra check to make sure everything’s in place and she has everything she needs but nothing she wants. The lashing comments on the incompetency of everything other than the ones they’ve picked and booked. The looking on as she walks through and away. And the wait at the car and frantic calls. Then the silence.
And then the Dad Quote.
The one that sums it all up in a way that makes perfect sense to him and no sense at all to anybody else.
The one’s that’s heard by the one person leaning against the car looking at him and none else. That moment that you remember 50 years from now with the look on your dad’s face and the chill that helped condense his ego right before it got too much to keep in an that obstinate eye-lid. One that you don’t tell anybody and keep selfishly for yourself.
Then I got home and I made us two huge mugs of concentrated hot cocoa – that liquid okay-ness which portion is proportional to the incident’s impact – and before you know it, everything’s alright again.
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