The Trials of a Misunderstood Teenager | ✅

Chapter 15 - Christmas dinner at the ranch

Grandma decided to throw a big Christmas dinner party. For that, she invited obviously her children, her grandchildren, and a few other people. Among the guests were the Eatons plus Tobias's girlfriend, Myra, the Pedrads, my Uncle Cameron and his fiancée, Maria, as well as my cousin Matt and his girlfriend, Emily. Grandpa also invited his old friend, Ezra Rosenberg who obviously came with his wife, Margueritte, and Edward's parents, Deborah and William. To my surprise, grandpa also invited an old Army friend of his, General Mitchells.

During dinner, everyone made light conversation, but afterwards the men retreated to grandpa's study, while the women remained in the living room chatting or helping clear the table, before dessert got served. I just wanted to help grandma pull out a cake from the fridge, when Caleb came and asked me to go to the study. I excused myself, and went to see what Grandpa wanted. I knocked on the door, and when I was told to enter, I did. Every man at this dinner party was there, and I wondered what Grandpa had so important and urgent to tell me that it couldn't wait.

"Sweetie, I asked you here, because, believe it or not, Gen. Mitchells never had a bullet to the head." At that, every pair of eyes was on us, including my ex and my current boyfriend. Really? That's why he called me in here? Wasn't it enough that I had to endure this entire day with both Tobias and Edward around, but now this.

"Do you prefer a Glock or a sniper rifle?" I ask, and both of the military men and my godfather start laughing, leaving the rest of the men in the room perplexed.

"Your grandpa told me you make a mean one," Gen. Mitchells comments.

"You should taste her Red Russians," Uncle Ezra says with a big smile on his face.

Without further ado, I nod my head, and go to my grandfather's bar, passing the rest of the men, staring at me in wonder. I prepare two kinds of drinks: the already requested "Bullet to the head" and "Red Russian". Once I'm done, I pour the drinks in glasses, one of each for each of the three men, and walk toward where they sit. I offer them the drinks, and wait for their assessment.

"I'll be damned!" Gen. Mitchells says. "That's the best bullet I ever had," he says, obviously a little tipsy already.

"Try the Russian," Uncle Ezra urges. The general does so, and seems even happier now. Grandpa drinks his bullet, while declining the Russian. I'm so tired and irritated that I have to be in this room, that without giving it a second thought, I down the spare Red Russian, as if it was water.

"Easy there, young lady," the general says.

"Don't worry, Francis. My Arizona isn't some wussy who can't hold her liquor," grandpa says, using my middle name, as he so often prefers it, and it's now I see the bloodshot in his eyes. He is drunk. Great! Grandma will be thrilled.

"Dad, Tris is underage, she isn't allowed to drink," my father tries to reason with Grandpa.

"It's okay," I say, and turn my back to the three older men, and look pointedly at my father. "He's really tipsy," I whisper, and Dad nods.

"Arizona, why don't you pour us some vodka? And cut a few onions," Grandpa orders.

"Dad, you shouldn't expose your sixteen-year-old granddaughter to hard drinks," Dad says irritated now.

"Andrew, you're such a pussy!" Grandpa replies, and I know he is not himself. He doesn't really believe that, and he would never say this to Dad while sober.

"Dedushka," I start saying in Russian, and he looks at me. I continue in Russian, not wanting anyone to understand us. I, basically, tell him, he had too many drinks and he starts insulting people to their face. And if he doesn't want me to tell on him, he better behave. He keeps cussing under his breath, but ultimately returns to talk to his buddies, more peaceful however.