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Anul puiului



De



Romi Moondi



© 2011 Romi Moondi Toate drepturile rezervate



Recunoasteri



Chiar daca aceasta nu este prima carte pe care am publicat-o vreodata, este prima carte pe care am scris-o pana la finalizare. Prin urmare, trebuie acordata atentie:



Doamnei Fioravanti:



ca profesoara de engleza in clasa a unsprezecea, m-ai amenintat cu detentie daca nu scriu articole pentru ziarul liceului. Va multumesc ca mi-ati ales lucrul preferat de facut in viata.



Pentru Juveria Collins:



care m-a asezat in 2007 si mi-a spus ca ar trebui sa scriu un blog, desi am fost jignit si deranjat de sugestie. sex escorte romania travelrock.com Avand in vedere ca aceasta carte a fost inspirata de unul dintre blogurile mele … aveai, in mod evident, dreptate. escorte bu awkum.com Multumiri.



Pentru Laura Guida:



multumesc pentru a fi o prietena incredibil de incurajatoare, cel mai bun umar in care sa se sprijine si cea mai buna persoana cu care sa vorbesti despre nebunia din viata de zi cu zi. Toata lumea are nevoie de o Laura.



Pentru Emily Robertson si Laura Tashjian:



pentru aventuri, victorii, dezamagiri, petreceri de dans, curaj lichid si momente „aleatorii” de-a lungul anilor, multumesc bunatate pentru voi doi!



Pentru marii recenzori de pe site-ul atelierului „Urmatorul mare scriitor”:



daca nu pentru revizuirea peer-to-peer si feedback constant, care m-au ajutat sa postez un capitol pe saptamana, nu as fi terminat niciodata un roman de lunga durata. escorte chisinau winecontracts.com



In special, multumita: Bisi Adjapon, Tirzah Goodwin, KL Brady, Rachel Hamm, David Hunter si Marc Kovacs.



Lui David Levine:



multumesc pentru a-ti arde ochii cu sarcina de a-mi citi cartea si pentru a fi cel mai bun blog-tata vreodata!



Pentru DC:



multumesc ca stai langa mine, cand barca balansa inainte si inapoi pe raul Hudson, sa-mi spui ca nu ar trebui sa renunt niciodata la scris. Ai avut mai mult decat dreptate.



Si nu in ultimul rand, lui Paul DH Baylay:



exista un milion de motive pentru care aceasta poveste nu ar fi fost scrisa niciodata fara tine si doar tu si eu le stim pe toate. escorte fund mare panpan.info Pentru uimitorul ajutor cu rescrierea, pentru idei, pentru incurajare, pentru „sa-mi spui ce nu voiam sa aud atunci cand trebuia sa-l aud”, nu voi uita niciodata. Multumesc.



Aceasta carte este dedicata tuturor oamenilor care se simt impovarati de asteptari, inecati de reguli si putin prea strambi pentru a se incadra intr-un rol prestabilit. Care la un moment sau altul, ar putea fi oricine. escorte oradae www.academy-art-universitystudent.biz Pentru tine, pentru mine, pentru toate.



Capitol unul



– Sapte optzeci si sase va rog.



Cand i-am inmanat baiatului Latte banii lui, mana lui ii inclesta palma. Am inabusit si mi-am sters repede reziduurile de clama de pe piciorul pantalonului. confesiunile unei escorte meshnetworks.us



Mainile lui Peter nu erau zvelte. Mainile Sale nu aveau nevoie de dezumidificator.



Ochii mei plesneau adanc in ai lui.



Ochii lui se uitau intru spate. escorte-sex blackstick.biz – Latte-ul tau asteapta la bar.



Dreapta.



Peter parasise Canada in urma cu doi ani, dar aici eram in locul unde a inceput totul. Locul in care flirtezi cu baristii englezi in vize de munca temporare, dupa care ii stergi pe datele de patinaj pe gheata in Piata Nathan Phillips, apoi date incomplete, apoi „lasa restul la datele tale de imaginatie”, apoi… apoi…



La revedere plictisitoare. escorte din suceava dqe.dunhamlawreview.com



Promite sa se reuneasca.



Apeluri telefonice frecvente.



Apeluri telefonice mai putin frecvente.



E-mailuri in loc de apeluri telefonice. anunturi escorte vaslui desifunda.net



Ultimul e-mail care spune „Imi pare rau Romi, dar da, am gasit un„ ho ”.



Adica o iubita respectabila.



Sigur.



Cu latte-ul intr-o mana si un sac plin cu prajituri de om de zapada in cealalta, m-am indreptat spre masa din colt pentru un loc. escorte vn www.feldfire.net In cateva secunde, m-am apucat de prajituri intr-un fericit zaharoza, in timp ce inghetarea multicolora si-a dansat in lungul limbii.



Doua femei de la o masa din apropiere erau in conversatie adanca, cu capetele coborate si intense. Le-am observat de fiecare data cand ochii mi se derulau din spatele capului, groapa se opreste in interiorul extazului indus de cookie-urile mele. Au izbucnit brusc in ras si s-au bucurat de „ha ha are” firele lor de par blond au inceput sa sara. escorte plinute bucuresti zaxbysfranchising.biz



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Oh, sigur, este totul distractiv si jocuri atunci cand lumea ta este o mare conexiune.



Oportunitatile mele de legatura au necesitat un costum de Batman pentru anonimat, la fel ca si pentru fiecare fata canadiana cu parinti indieni. In fata parintilor nostri eram roboti cu butonul „excitat”, dar cand luna stralucea, urletele noastre de dorinta puteau fi auzite pe o suta de kilometri.



Cu conditia sa fim fete bine ajustate, care ar fi intalnit ca profesionistii de la saisprezece ani. escorte liverpool www.richwilkerson.biz



Umm …



Am scuturat amintirile anilor fara dat si „vraji uscate atat de mult, incat practic am putut fi calugar” din mintea mea, cu o bataie de lapte, dar gandurile aranjate in casatorie le-au luat locul. escorte 24 publi implode-explode.com Oricat de multe ori am cautat logica mi-a scapat, si de ce nu? In ce lume era normal sa nu te uiti niciodata la baieti inainte de casatorie, apoi sa faci sex cu un strain aproape cand a sosit ziua casatoriei?



„Pfft.“ Sunetul emanat de gura mea mi s-ar fi parut mult mai normal daca nu as fi singur la aceasta masa. In realitate, blondele pareau tulburate de stanga pacientului mental scapat. Am ridicat din umeri si mi-am invartit un fir lung de par intre degete. escorte manastur cluj www.landingontop.com Intelept. Ingrijorat.



Am douazeci si sapte de ani.



Nu am avut o intalnire in doi ani intregi (apelurile telefonice catre englezi nu conteaza exact). escorte baia www.mojomouthpiecework.com



Pe de alta parte nu sunt gras.



Dar pe de alta parte, nu sunt tocmai slab.



Inapoi la cealalta mana: a fi cinci metri-sapte inseamna ca cresterea in greutate tinde sa se intinda.



Mana mea invartita s-a relaxat la optiunile interminabile de intalnire pe care Toronto le va oferi. escorte 69.net newyorkveincenter.com Tot ce trebuia sa fac era sa fiu putin pacient. Ce alegere am avut? Disperarea era urata. Si mirositor.



Gandurile mele trebuie sa se fi dus, intrucat m-am trezit infundandu-ma pe ultimul dintr-un lat. escorte tenerife migs.biz O privire la ceasul meu mi-a confirmat visul neprogramat.



Patru-cincisprezece pm



Timpul zboara cand este o petrecere a unuia.



Am strecurat prin usile rotative si am alergat sa prind trenul de patruzeci si treizeci.



***



Patru douazeci si sase pm si eram in picioare pe platforma garii. escorte popesti leordeni www.burnstuff.com O femeie cu umeri mari m-a lovit cu ghiozdanul ei urias, un „accident” care m-a impins in spate. Nu mai incurcasem niciodata cu o femeie cu umeri mari si nu aveam de gand sa inceapa azi. In plus, parul meu era mai matasos decat al ei, asa ca karma isi facuse treaba.



Clopotelul trenului s-a clintit si pentru mine a scos o melodie. escorte dristor mature rsv.inlandempirecarinsurance.com Dupa-amiaza mea de gandire urma sa fie inlocuita cu o confruntare nocturna.



Sora mea.



Am respirat adanc si m-am urcat in tren.



***



If there’s one thing I learned from family sitcoms growing up, it’s that sisters, despite their superficial squabbles, have a superglue-level of a bond. escorte mangalia www.cheapassgamer.com I wondered though, about the margin of error for this bond. Like what about the sisterly bond which is only sealed together with Scotch Tape? Or worse, sealed with only the cheap and sticky edge of an envelope?



My older sister and I were the victims of the “envelope adhesive.”



I slammed the door shut against the howling wind, and that was just the trigger she needed.



“Hurry up and wash the containers, dumbass!



 



We have to bring them home!” Neema’s voice was filtered by her closed bedroom door, but it managed to pierce my ears like a smoke alarm with PMS. escorte kaufland www.ecityway.net



“EXCUSE ME?” I yelled from the bottom of the stairs. “You’ve been home for an entire hour, bitch. Why the hell didn’t YOU wash them?” The fury within me was bubbling over, as I dusted off the snow from the shoulders of my big wool coat. It had started with the train delay right before my stop, continued with the slippery roads, and was now poised to end with a bitch-fest. escorte sex ro turtlewraps.com



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Typical.



“I always do the dishes!” she bellowed back. “You don’t do shit, you fat-ass loser. So wash them and hurry up, I told Mom and Dad we’d be home by seven!”



“I don’t DO anything?” I cried. escorte destate bucuresti m.shopindetroit.com



 



“What about last week, when I did all the laundry? YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”



No response.



I could never recall when the switch to general hatred had occurred, but somewhere along the way, my sister and I had gone from jumping on the bed singing “Like a Virgin”… filme escorte teapeopleusa.com to this.



 



It was a difficult grudge to live with, since we shared a house in Toronto from Sunday to Friday night. On the surface the arrangement put us closer to our places of work. Underneath it though, was a blissful escape from my parents’ harsh regime. filme cu escorte cmpgc.org Even though the pact to keep our crazy late nights from our parents held true, there was still the little problem of having her in my face.



At the moment I wanted to snap off her twiggy arms, but I’d save that for another time. So I went to the kitchen and washed the dishes in a rage, tossing the lids so they bounced off the rack, and splashing for the sake of splashing.



Afterwards I dried every one of the large glass bowls and their plastic lids, placing them in a milk crate lined with dishcloths. escorte unguroaica hampton-ridge.com These dishes would travel back here once the Christmas break was over, only filled with all my mother’s Indian food.



I thumped up the stairs and now stood in front of my closet, where small T-shirts and tight blouses from thinner days self-righteously hung. I opened my dresser drawer instead, and in one swift motion crammed my duffle bag with sweatshirts and flannel.



I returned downstairs and waited. escorte din bacau www.major-depression-psychosis.net



And waited.



I looked up the stairs and could still see the light bleeding out from underneath her door.



I figured she needed a prompt.



“HURRY THE FUCK UP!”



There was no response, but a minute later she finally opened the door. Down the steps she came, five-foot-nine and stick-thin with her Gucci bag in hand, and her shoulder-length hair sitting perfectly still and straightened. I wanted to explain how Gucci would pay her an enormous sum to never wear their brand again, but I was far too tired for another round of insults.



By the time we loaded up the car I was ready for a drool-filled nap. Partly because I was tired, but mostly to avoid the mere thought of a Narindra family Christmas; the judging, the dinner-table inquisitions, and the fake transformation into the girl I was supposed to be…



Chapter Two



Ninety minutes of driving and thirty of my dad’s “please don’t be dead” emergency calls later, we finally made it home to suburban paradise. This sleepy town in Southwestern Ontario was brimming with nostalgia. The shopping mall where I was chaperoned by my parents (forcing me to hide from my friends in the men’s underwear section), the one movie theater I never got to make out at, and the one video store where I’d bump into my dentist, only to discover his love for Alyssa Milano’s straight-to-video collection.



Our childhood home was filled with nostalgia too, most of it involving scolding and the smell of spices. I opened the door with my sister right behind me, and we yelled to whomever that we’d arrived. My gaze fell upon the empty living room, complete with mustard-coloured, floral-printed couches. Not to mention the matching tasseled cushions.



This room seems uglier every time.



Of course the real “living” happened in the family room further ahead. That’s where the big screen television was, and it was also conveniently next to the kitchen. It was from there, in the back of the house, that the smell of chicken curry wafted over.



As I pulled off my boots and took in the aroma, I felt the slightest brush across my calf. It was my black and white cat named Tommy. My sister scooped him up for a shower of her sloppy kisses.



Feline molestation at its worst.



I grabbed him away from her venomous lips and she bounded up the stairs. I quickly planted some more appropriate pecks of my own, but as I set him down I realized I’d been kissing the exact same spots that had been covered with my sister’s lips.



Is that the same as kissing her?