She shakes her head. "Your father needs to have his cup examined. That means 'head' in Yiddish. Imagine, keeping my granddaughter from me for sixteen years."
"Yeah," I say, urging her on. I like Safta immediately.
"What's your mother like?" she asks, changing the subject.
How do I describe Mom?
"She's pretty, for a mom," I say. "And she has a job that pays her a lot of money. She doesn't have a lot of friends, though, 'cause she's always working."
I watch as Safta takes this all in.
"And tell me about yourself."
"I do okay in school, I guess. My best friend's name is Jessica ...she's Jewish," I add to make some connection to Safta on the religious end. "And I like to play tennis, ski, and shop."
She nods her head. "I'm going to like getting to know you, Amy. You sound like a very energetic, interesting girl."
"I should add I don't have the most positive attitude," I say while biting my bottom lip nervously. I mean, the lady'll figure it out sooner or later so I might as well give it to her straight up front.
"Maybe your trip here will change that."
I highly doubt it but I say, "I guess so," just to make her think this trip might miraculously change my outlook on life.
"I was like you when I was your age," she says.
"Why? Were you illegitimate, too?"
"No," she says, still holding my hand. "But my family fell on some tough times and we didn't have a home for a few years."
"Where did you live?"
"On the beach. It was a long time ago. Life changes when you least expect it."
As this information sinks into my brain, Sofia tells me to go relax and unpack. And she smiles at me as if she's been my grandmother forever.
I can't keep blaming her for not being there for me the past sixteen years. The poor woman didn't even know I existed.
"Where's my suitcase?" I ask Ron after my enlightening talk with Sofia.
"It's in O'snot's room," he says.
I didn't just hear right. I couldn't have. "You're kiddin' me, right?"
"There's only a few rooms here," SD explains. "You'll be sleeping in O'snot's room. I'm getting the sofa."
"What about the little guy?"
"Matan? He sleeps on a bed in his parents' room."
I'm about to suggest I sleep on the floor, but I see three ants crawling across the tile. Gross. And when I look over at Doda Yucky, she has this pathetic look on her face as if she'll win the lottery if my happy meter reaches a certain level.
I give her a little smile and it apparently worked because she heads back to the kitchen humming a cheerful tune.
But seriously, if there's one thing an American teenage girl needs, it's privacy. Can I tell O'snot to leave the room? It is, in fact, HER room so I think not. Thank goodness I'm not a twin. There are these twins at my school, Marlene and Darlene, and they have to not only share a room with each other, but their older sister, Charlene too. Don't ask.
SD leads me to a bedroom in the back of the house. I walk in the room and Snotty is putting on makeup while sitting on her bed. She knows I'm there, but she hasn't acknowledged me.
The Sperm Donor stands beside me. "Do you need help?"
"No, I'm fine," I say back to him.
He takes this as his cue to leave. I would have liked him to stay. Only to pose as a buffer between me and Snotty.
"Listen, I'm sorry about your boyfriend," I say.
She looks up and I see she's overdone the makeup on her eyes. It's as if she's outlined her eyes in black charcoal and now my cousin looks like she's in her twenties instead of a teenager. How old is she, anyway? She could use a few tips on makeup application.
One of my mom's clients is a cosmetic company. They actually used me in one of the shoots for their teen line. I learned a lot about how makeup should enhance your best features and not look all gloppy and dark (like Snotty). After my picture appeared in most of the teen magazines, my group of friends kind of dubbed me the guru of makeup.
I go over to my suitcase on the bed I suppose is mine for the next three months and pick out some clothes to change into that aren't caked with mud and straw.
"Avi isn't my boyfriend."
I'm not sure if it's Snotty talking, or my imagination playing with me.
I face my cousin. "What?"
She points her charcoal eye-circle bull's-eyes in my direction. "I don't have a boyfriend."
I take a pair of red shorts out of my suitcase. The word BITCH is printed across the butt in big white letters. Jessica got me the shorts for my birthday as a joke along with an anklet that wasn't a joke. I never thought I'd ever wear the shorts but then again, I never thought I'd find myself on a farm on top of a mountain in the middle of a war zone.
But, to be perfectly honest with myself, Israel doesn't actually feel or look like a war zone. Well, except for the heavily armed guards at the airport and the minefield I stepped on.
I look down at my shorts. I didn't think anyone here would be able to speak English so I packed them. I'm tempted to offer them to Snotty but instead ask, "Does Avi have a girlfriend?"
Okay, now if I wouldn't gag from the grossness of it, I'd insert my foot into my mouth. I don't care whether the guy has a girlfriend or not, but here I am asking Snotty about him.