Chapter Two
To say the least, the hour and a half ride to the airport pretty much sucked. The entire ride Omar and Kaseem spoke in a language Ziva didn't understand. The roads were far too bumpy for her to rest her head and sleep. She didn't have an Apple device or even a fancy phone like everyone else and her MP3player was dead. When they finally arrived at the airport, the three of them had to wait in line for half of an hour just to buy tickets. Then, their flight was going to be late. Ziva thought about running off to find a vending machine or a restroom or maybe even a book store, but Omar, who had always been like an uncle to her, told her to stay close and deal with the suffering boardom. When he wasn't looking, Ziva pulled out the middle finger on him. Once their flight finally arrived, they were aloud to board immediately. However, hey had to wait for an hour and a half for everyone.
After the plane finally took off, it was eleven hours until they reached America. Ziva slept most of the way, but when she wasn't sleeping, she was asking the flight attendants for stacks of magazines to keep her occupied. When she eventually ran out of magazines to browse through, she asked for a coloring book. Turns out, they just ran out of crayons. So, she asked for a pencil and an empty notebook. The flight attendant came back with a soft pink child's notebook that held maybe only fifteen pages and a cruddy clicker pencil. All this and she was only half way there. "Dammit, I hate all of these people," she whispered softly, but someone still managed to hear her; it was a chunky middle-aged man with stuck-up, pinched-nose face. He reported Ziva to the flight attendant-the one Ziva really hated. Fortunately, they saw it as nothing and told Mr. Cranky 10-year-old baby to calm down.
"Ziva," Omar said in a gruff, Israeli accent, "I charged your MP3player. I thought you might want it." He handed her square, olive green device about half the size of an American dollar bill. Ziva quickly snatched it from his grasp and turned it on.
"Toda! Toda, Omar," she thanked graciously. For the next four hours, she listened to her favorite bands. She had all kinds of different music on her device. The American bands she listened to were Black Sabbath, Ozzy Osbourn, Shinedown, Paramore, Nirvana, Nickleback, and The Beatles. Her favorite Hebrew bands were This Little Lamb, Shalom! Shalom!, Nothing Else Here, Never Alone, and Gracious Gods. Other bands from all over the world are Otack Meltyc, Of Monsters And Men, What-Not-Nick-Nacks, Gamie, and Frankie's Gone Forever.
When they finally landed in New York, Ziva was more than thrilled. She ran to the bathroom, ran to the nearest bookstore, ran to a coffee shop, ran to a water fountain, ran to a Radio Shack (which, mind you, didn't have one radio and looked much more fancier than a shack), then ran back to the bathroom. Then, Omar and Kaseem escorted back to he airport to fly her to Washington D.C. It was a four hour flight. Good thing that this time, Ziva had her own books to read and write in. "Stupid, dumb ass flight attendants," she mumbled to herself.
"Ziva," Omar snapped, "watch you language. Besides, those men and women are very important people. They have others that come before you; now, be a little considerate."
"Fine," Ziva replied, "but she at least could have given me an actual notebook."
"Ziva," Kaseem, said.
"Alright! Alright, fine, you guys are right, I'm wrong, I'm an ass and she's perfect. Whatever." Ziva turned away from the both of them and continued reading her book, Most are Gone Forever. Which, by the way, is an amazing book. By the time their flight landed in D.C., Ziva was almost 500 pages into her book. It was a two hour drive to Jennifer's home. Ziva finished another 200pages of her book, but there was so much left to go. The book looked to be at least 4,000 pages long. It was going to take a while to read. After the two hour drive, Omar parked the car into a large driveway. There was a car in front of them and then three more in the garage. Ziva looked out of her window towards the house-wait, no, mansion-and felt like crying. She may actually have if she had been alone. The place was beautiful and all, but it was just way too unfamiliar to her. It felt like a whole new world. Instead of being in her three bedroom, two story house, in font of a thin forest of olive trees, in the middle of Tel Aviv, Israel (not far from a desert), she'd now be living in a four story house with a three car garage/five car drive, a gorgeous back yard, in the middle of Washington D.C., Pennsylvania where it's nice and fresh and has all four season, and God only knows what else.
Ziva was anxious to climb out the car and stretch her muscles and see Jennifer again, but at the same time, she just wanted to sit down where she was, take the long and agonizing trip back to Israel, and curl up in her soft bed with her tiger pillow once she finally made it home. Moments passed and Ziva remained in her seat. When she finally began to unbuckle her seat belt, Omar and Kaseem already had all of her things except a few bags inside already. As Ziva began to climb slowly out of the car, she felt as if she was leaving something behind. She shrugged it away and brought the rest of her stuff inside. She slowly walked up the long path to the door, thinking about what it would be like.
She could only imagine. Maybe there would be a few chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and maybe the rooms would be the kinds she saw in her childhood fairy princess books. Ziva imagined servants and maids and slave boys doing everything for the family. What if there really were maids and servants that did everything for everyone? What if no one let Ziva be Ziva; what if there were certain rules she had to follow? What if they didn't let her practice her religion and beliefs? What if Jennifer had changed? What if her husband was dirt bag and their kids were judgmental jerks? How am I going to get through all of this, Ziva asked herself as she reached the first step to the porch. She didn't set foot on it, but just starred at it. What if it caved in, she thought. What if? There were so many "what if's"going through Ziva's head.
There was only one way to figure out the answer to them. Ziva took that first step, then the next and the next until she stood only inches away from the doorway inside. Only two more steps, and she'd be in. Just two more steps. Ziva took a deep breath and lifted her thin leg. It landed inside. Then, she took that last step. She was inside, and it felt like the biggest mistake of her life.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed. I know it seems to be going slow, but by chapter 5 or 6 it should pick up and start to capture your attention more. Please review but please don't hate on the story too much. This isn't my first ever, but it is my first on . Keep reading and I hope you enjoy. ^.^