Page 11 of Faithful

It’s true.

I only have a very vague recollection of what exactly transpired that last Christmas Amelia spent with us eleven years ago.

Ava was sixteen at the time, going through the motions of changing her hair color, falling in love with various rock bands, and fighting with our father every chance she got.

It was a particularly turbulent holiday season, and Amelia and her husband, who I’ve met only a couple of times and who seemed like a down-to-earth guy for a tech investor, had flown into Seattle for a couple of weeks. Gavin was gracious enough to let them stay at the house, but he didn’t really get along with my aunt.

I heard him call her a hippie once, but that’s beside the point.

I remember only the vaguest details. Bits and pieces that are meant to be part of a bigger puzzle, but some are missing and that picture in my head is still incomplete, even all these years later. And whenever I come back to it, I can’t see more than I saw as a child.

It was the day after Christmas, and we were all downstairs in the family room sitting in front of the fireplace with the TV on and the volume all the way down. Gavin was trying to have a civil conversation with Amelia’s husband. My mother was playing solitaire. I was preoccupied with my iPad.

If someone were to take a peek at us at that very moment, before things started to fall apart, we looked just like any other family gathered in a cozy space decorated by fluffy wreaths and red bows.

And then I heard Ava talking to Amelia about tattoos. She shoved her iPhone at our aunt, explaining which designs she liked the most and that her friend had gotten one on her hip.

You could feel the air inside the room stirring and souring as Gavin stood up from his place, effectively dropping all pretense in front of my mother’s sister and her husband.

He crossed the room and snatched Ava’s phone from her hand. “That’s enough! We’re not talking about body defacing in this house.”

There was a moment of heavy silence, punctuated only by the occasional crackling of the fire.

My mother stared at him with genuine horror.

Amelia’s face froze.

“What the hell, Dad?” Ava was the first one to break the spell.

She shot up to her feet, her arm punching out to grab the phone back. Of course, she didn’t succeed.

“You’re grounded,” was all Gavin said, grinding his molars.

In turn, she laughed in his face.

Later that night, after everyone retreated to their rooms, I sneaked out because of the noises from downstairs.

There were hushed angry whispers coming from Gavin’s study. The door was cracked open, and I stood there in my pajamas trying to stay unnoticed and get a peek at my aunt and my father talking about things I didn’t fully understand.

“… encourage her!” That was Gavin.

“She’s spiraling. Can’t you see it?” Amelia half shouted. “How many instruments has she gone through in these past few years? How many hobbies did she start and abandon? She needs professional help!”

“Do not. I’m warning you.”

“This isn’t a joke. You know damn well inability to concentrate is a byproduct of–”

There was a crashing sound down the hall, and it sent my tiny heart tumbling down my chest and into my stomach. I didn’t hear the rest of the argument. I ran back upstairs, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping.

The next morning when I woke up, Amelia and her husband were gone. They never visited after that save for Ava’s funeral.

3 KNEEL

Gavin ends up leaving town two days after our altercation and Amelia promises to fly out to Seattle the following week as soon as she handles her immediate affairs in New York.

And that is the only reason why my move to my new place goes according to plan.

With my father somewhere in South Dakota overseeing a project he’s been involved with this year and Julie staying at the house, it doesn’t feel like I’m just abandoning my mother. It still feels like shit, though.

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