"Bing Be" - 4

In my family I was the least.

That made me laugh just thinking it.

I was the least successful if you judged my life by those of my Aunts, Uncles and cousins whose lives were peppered with glitter.  It wasn't odd for me to look at something online and see a relative's impressive bio or their picture at some sparkly gala.  I never had the "it" they had because I was raised by my Grandmother who didn't believe in the excess of anything.  It seemed my Aunts and Uncles couldn't wait to get out from under her just so they COULD taste the excesses a successful life could afford them and they never stopped it seemed.

So yeah...in my family I was the least.

I wasn't surprised when my Uncle called and asked if I needed him to get me a ticket and he wasn't surprised when I said, as always, no. 

But thank you for asking.

And I wasn't surprised when my cousin Raif pulled up to the airport driving the type of car I was unfamiliar with.

"Cuz!"  he got out smiling belying why I was home.

"Raif!  So good to see you!"

He popped the truck and carefully put my bag in the back.

"What's this Raif?"

"What's what?

"This car?  What do you call it?"

"Vanessa."

"What?" 

"I call her Vanessa."

I walked around to the front of the car so I could make out the writing on the hood.  As luck would have it there was not writing...just some symbol I was unfamiliar with.

"Get in.  We're late."

As Raif drove silently but swiftly we talked about everything in general...nothing in particular.

"Your father came by yesterday.  My mother told him you'd be here today."

"Thanks."

And then we caught up on Raif.  I loved how I didn't have to say much to be with him because he always did all the talking just like his mother.  I wondered if some woman was tuning him out yet but probably not if you took in all the glitz that was he and coupled it with his looks and quick smile.

And without much time for me to be prepared we were pulling up to his parent's home where the excess was the most abundant.

The great thing about my family is that even though I was the least...it wasn't something they appeared to look down on.  See...folks think the wealthiest people are the coldest but in my family that simply isn't true.  You wouldn't know it looking from the outside wrapped in your own stereotypes of who would live here but behind the private gates and lush lawn was some of the most warm and beautiful people.  My Aunt rushed out and barely gave me time to open the door before she was hugging me and kissing me.  Seriously...it was like a coming home scene from a movie.  Everyone rushed out.  Dogs barking.  My Uncle's voice booming.  My cousins waiting to get their turn.

And I felt the love I forced myself to stay away from for reasons I'm sure a good therapist could help me figure out.

See...I'm the least.

And then the gates opened again and my father's car drove up the long driveway and I remembered more of why.  Because he always tried to use me to get to them.

My father...the reason I live...up there. 

My father was an extremely smart man.  A college professor with a gambling addiction. 

Contradiction huh?

Yeah. 

Welcome to my world.

 

 

 

 

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