Grandpa Earnest’s and Grandma Julia’s house was a very familiar sight, as I had spent the first eleven years of my life there – save for first first couple months of my life, where I lived in a shrine in the woods.

Which I know they said I was to young to remember, but I swear I could-

But whatever.

So much had happened at my Grandparent’s house, so many good things, so many bad things. Our new family home was kinda a fresh start, where we did a ceremony and said prayers, and Mom and Dad vowed that only good things would happen there, which I got even though I knew they loved my grandparent’s house as much as I did.

Mom had lost a baby in Grandparent’s home. Dad lost his brother. Both had gone through a year of grief where they took turns breaking down, and my grandparents – Dad’s parents and Mom’s parents – pretty much raised us while my parents struggled to regain control over themselves.

When mom got pregnant again, Dad kinda pulled it together since Mom was a mess that whole nine months, and then when Mom got pregnant again, she tried really hard to be more present during it.

And then the last of my sisters was born, my parents were both okay again, and had been ever since.

Until Roy.

But...we had a good stretch there, and Mom was getting better now.

Usually my siblings and I would go and stay with my grandparents most Saturday nights and into Sunday with my other cousins, us older kids helping with the younger kids- we all camped outside, we played. It was usually the best day of the week for everyone, since our parents got a break, and we got to catch up on family gossip and could make plans for the week.

Even though it was mostly the under thirteen year olds that went, I usually went to my grandparents on the weekends to help out, since everyone wanted to hear me tell ghost stories, which were basically just the same stories my mother told me, but I played up the scarier elements, added a lot more dark woods and sudden noises.

The kids loved that, especially when my sisters added sound effects.

But whenever my Dad suddenly went to my grandparents alone, it was usually to have a little breakdown and get thrashed. He only did that a few times a year – usually on the anniversary of my uncle getting taken, or my uncle’s birthday.

The first anniversary of Joy passing, he got seriously thrashed, but after that, he and my Mom decided to turn her birthday into a celebration. We’d just have a special cake and treats, but both my parents really put in an effort to celebrate it rather than mourning it. We had a handful of cousins come over that day as well and they brought desserts as well, so it really helped the day go by fast.

But we had just passed Roy’s first birthday, and while I knew that they wouldn’t be able to celebrate it just yet, my cousin Greer was born on that day and I think Mom and Dad agreed that they weren’t going to grieve because they didn’t want to spoil the birth of my cousin.

Mom had to go to the clinic though, even if it was for a shorter visit then I expected.

After my visit with the Mayor, we went to my Grandparent’s house, but not right away.

Instead we took the long way, Dad quiet the entire time as he seemed to think very hard about something. I didn’t want to inturupt, him afraid I might shatter whatever strength he had that kept him from bursting into tears again, and just stayed beside him as we walked. Dad would occasionally pat my shoulder and hold onto the back of my shirt as we walked, but otherwise her kept his hands in his pockets.

We walked all day and into the early night before we finally made it to the street we lived on, the one you followed all the way to my grandparent’s house.

I had run inside to our house to drop off my file and tell my Mom where we were going, and she had told me that she would come over later to be with Dad, after she had fed my sisters and got them in bed, though she didn’t ask what had gotten him upset.

I think she just thought he was suddenly grieving Little Roy.

Given how Dad reacted, I was to nervous to broach what I had told him with Mom, so I didn’t say anything to her about it.

When we got to my grandparent’s house, my Dad went straight to the liquor cabinet in the kitchen, breezing past where my Grandpa was sitting with Aunty Emmy’s eldest son, both giving us a smile and wave.

After Dad hurried past him into the house, Grandpa stood and carried my cousin in after him, standing there watching as Dad started chugging whiskey. He pulled a face and turned to hand me my cousin, and I awkwardly held him while Dad burst into tears. His Dad went over and embraced him and I carried my cousin out of the kitchen, feeling awkward and sort near tears, since I didn’t like seeing Dad cry.

My grandma came in through the front door with a curious look, and my cousin told her plainly that ‘Uncle Roy is crying again’, and my grandma’s smile fell. She set her basket down on the floor and went into the kitchen, where my Dad was sobbing that he ‘screamed at my boy’, and my cousin waddled off to the door in the living room, where my Aunt Emmy and her husband had the bedroom they shared with their four young kids, the same room that my parents had once shared with me and my siblings.

My Dad walked over to the couch with his bottle and sat down heavily, crying that everything was wrong, and that things wouldn’t be like this is his brother was still around, and that someone needed to ‘fucking pay’ for it- and then breaking down into hysterical tears that he couldn’t lose anymore babies.

My aunt came out then with a concerned look, holding her brand new baby boy. She blinked at my Dad as he cried, her parents looking flustered as my grandma tried to get him to calm down and my grandpa just patted his back.

“Oh...my.” My Aunt Emmy mumbled before she came out and sat next to him while he sobbed. She forced him to switch his bottle for her baby and he began sobbing harder, crying out that he had ‘screamed at his son’ as he sat back and rocked the new baby, who stared over my Dad’s shoulders at me with a frustrated look.

Sorry, Greer.

Welcome to our family.

We’re dramatic.

Well.

Half of us are.

I mean, my Dad’s sisters were all very calm, even people, like their parents, but my Dad and – let’s face it, most of the Blue clan – were dramatic as all hell.

“Ren, why don’t you go up and get some rest,” My Grandma said as she went over and picked up her basket of vegetables, “You need to rest up for your trip to the city.”

“Yeah...Mom said she’ll be over after the girls are in bed…” I said carefully as I frowned at Dad, feeling guilty as shit that I had triggered about mini breakdown.

I really did say stupid shit without thinking.

And I tended to overshare.

But I didn’t think Dad would react this badly.

I did as I was told and went upstairs.