Dirt

31

Knox

"I hate family events."

I swivel my attention from the window, gawking at Roger while he maneuvers us through the city, "You hate family events? We're the ones getting paraded around like show dogs."

It's only expected. We're the long lost babies of ole crazy Sarah. Mary has already grilled us on everything that could have ever happened in our lives; If Mom ever talked about her family, if Mom ever showed pictures of her family -of our dad. If we had a good house down south, if we went to good schools with good friends getting good grades. If we did family events, if we had good Christmas'. 

If we ever made our own families, if Mom sang or played instruments around the house. If we played sports, if Mom came to all our events. If Mom had serious boyfriends, if we had father figures. If Mom worked consistently, if we were stable financially. If Grace missed her girlfriends, if I'm mad I can't graduate at my school with all my friends.

We told her at least 2/3 honesty. Some of them Grace would get squirmy so I would fill in with petty lies. Then she began to ask the hesitant questions. The one Kelly seemed to shoot daggers at her daughter, that even Mary seemed scared to know.

Things like: If Mom got bad really fast, if Mom held some of her dignity in the end. If we were exposed to it for long, if we ever interacted with her dealers. If we were safe, if she ever did it in front of us. If we had to help her financially, if we had to parent her. On and on questions that made you pick up that perhaps Mary was a little angry towards her sister.

Those we answered hesitantly too. We haven't ever told everyone just how it was. Except for maybe Roger who just is magically always there when we talk about those things. Because no one ever wants what they actually want to know.

We all went to bed uneasy that night.

Now we're going to have to do it all over again. We're going to the cousin of someone's house for Thanksgiving dinner. It all encases way too many people, way too many questions; Everything will be too much.

Roger scuffs, eyeing me, "With those curls, you might as well be a lap poodle."

I frown, "Fuck you."

"Knox!" I reluctantly turn to in my seat to see Grace scowling in the back seat of Puppy, "Don't cuss, there is a kid." She gestures to Freddie sitting next to her. He, however, doesn't seem to fucking care if I'm using adult words or not.

"Freddie," Freddie lazily moves his eyes to connect with Roger's in the review mirror, "Don't you fucking dare repeat a word you've heard in this car, okay?"

Freddie nods, looking back out the window. Grace just frowns disapprovingly, shaking her head. I send a quick grin back at her that she ignores.

"Loosen up, Racey. We're about to be in a packed house for God knows how long," She just keeps frowning. And I'll admit that wasn't the best thing to say to get her to smile, "I mean, we need to relax while we can. Cuss all you want and I'll take the fall," I give her another easy smile that does loosen her frown.

"You're a shit inspirational speaker," I grin wildly at my little sister.

"He's shit at anything," I scuff at Roger, twisting back in my seat to look forward as we enter an already packed neighborhood. Shouldn't all college kids be gone?

"Fat lip from you."

"Who the fuck says 'fat lip'? A racist 60-year-old man?" 

"A racist 60-year-old man that can still beat your untalented ass. I'm practically already worth more."