Chapter 29
Family Togetherness
I could feel my world crashing down around me. Everything that had been bugging me for the last two months melted away to nothing: Emily, the Jedi, the Padawans, the Sith… None of it mattered anymore, now that I had reached the end of all things. I was standing at the threshold of doom. The time had come.
My grandmother was here.
I had barely managed to get my room at least appearing clean before my aunt called to announce that they were in town. Most of the mess had simply been moved to my drawers, closet, and under my bed, and I barely had enough time to finish dusting and vacuuming. My mom had worked like a maniac all afternoon as soon as the Jedi left, and the house reeked of lemon-scented cleaning solution. Every surface sparkled, and the walls and floors were clean enough to eat on. Our tiny and overcrowded home looked as much like a catalogue as it ever could, and normal people would have been proud of how beautiful it looked. But we knew better than to indulge in such delusions as a sense of self accomplishment.
My mom and I stood at the door, coats on and ready to help them unload their bags as we watched my aunt's car pull in the driveway. My mind couldn't help but play the Imperial March as I watched their approach. My aunt was driving, and my grandmother sat in the passenger's seat, back perfectly straight and head held high. As they got closer, I could see her perfectly permed silver hair poking out from beneath her fur hat, her nose was turned upward in a sneer. My aunt looked flustered as she straightened the wheel, her short dirty-blonde hair swishing against her wool coat as she checked her mirrors.
My mom shivered in the grey pencil skirt she wore under her coat. It was one of her work suits, and she looked ridiculous wearing it on her day off. But with my grandmother around it was either wear the damn suit or get ridiculed to death. I, however, refused to wear a skirt to appease my grandmother's vanity, so my mom and I compromised. I wore a pair of dress pants and a white button-down shirt under a blue sweater. It was the second dressiest outfit I owned, and my dressiest outfit was reserved for Thanksgiving itself. Luckily, I had work as an excuse to not get dressed up on Friday.
I never thought I would be thankful for my Deli Land uniform.
"Claire! Mom!" My mom exclaimed in forced excitement as she trotted down the driveway, arms open and ready to embrace her sister.
"Jean!" Aunt Claire exclaimed as she threw her arms around my mom. "It's so good to see you!"
My aunt and my mom weren't far apart in age, but living with my grandmother was starting to show itself in crow's feet and lines on my Aunt's face. When I approached I could see a few grey strands among her blonde locks. She too was wearing nylons and a dress beneath her coat, and her makeup looked perfect. My mom also sported some eye makeup and lipstick, which I rarely saw her wear. I didn't even own any makeup, and asking me to wear some to get on my grandmother's good side was out of the question.
With grace and poise, my grandmother stepped out of the car. She wore the same long, black wool coat as my aunt, and beneath it she wore a black tailored cocktail dress, black nylons, and heels. The woman was close to 80 and she still wore heels. And the craziest part was she didn't even need them. She was abnormally tall for our family; the rest of us unfortunately took after her much shorter husband. Even in her advanced age she stood about four inches above us without heels, and she used her stature to convey her superiority to everyone else. Her eyes were perfectly made up, and she tightly pursed her red lips in an expression of contempt. Her mascara-covered eyes keenly watched our every move like a hawk observing its prey, her sharp gaze communicating that she was readying herself for attack.
"Oh Jean, dear," her shrill voice hummed in contempt. "Your lawn is looking awfully long for this time of year. You should get one of the boys in the neighborhood to cut it for you. It won't grow back in the spring if it isn't cut short now."
"I'll do that, mom," my mom said blandly, and even without the Force I could feel her tense.
We weren't even in the house yet and it had already started.
I ducked out of the way before my grandmother noticed me, making my way to the trunk to unload the bags. I nearly screamed when I saw how many my grandmother had brought. She was only staying until Saturday, but she had packed enough clothes to last a normal person a month. There was no way that we had room in our tiny house for my grandmother's large rolling suitcase, hard-sided hand suitcase, makeup bag, and hat box, on top of two extra people. Luckily, my aunt was more practical, and simply had a duffle bag.
My mom and aunt gave me a hand with the suitcases, and we trudged up the front steps with them while my grandmother stiffly strode behind, her dainty arms unable to carry anything heavier than her designer purse. As soon as we entered the house, my grandmother's impassive expression turned into a deep sneer of disgust.
"Oh Jean," she hissed, her tongue clicking as she shook her head in disappointment. "Are you sure you're able to maintain a balance between working, raising a daughter, and maintaining a home?"
"Positive, mom," my mother dismissed. I could see a vein in her forehead appear as she struggled to maintain composure.
"The state of your home suggests otherwise," Gram replied, waving her white, cashmere-gloved hand in a sweeping motion around the kitchen. "There's no shame in admitting you're overwhelmed, dear. After all, you don't have a man to help you out anymore."
I thought my mother was going to explode, and I slipped back toward the door to avoid catching residual wrath. "I don't need one, mother," she hissed through gritted teeth. "I am managing just fine on my own."
"Of course you are dear," Gram answered sarcastically. "Just remember, sweetie, as I've told you before you are welcome to stay with me until you can find another man. There is plenty of room for both of you at my house, and since your father's passing it has been very lonely."
My jaw dropped. Did she forget that my aunt was living with her?!
"I'm not going to uproot Lia from her school, mom," my mom retorted, taking the bags out of my aunt's hands and making her way across the kitchen. I followed close behind, trying to stay invisible despite the name drop.
"But of course," Gram replied, taking off her coat and hanging it on one of the newly empty pegs in the living room. "How is the child doing in school?"
I slipped into my bedroom to avoid that conversation.
"She's doing well," I heard my mom lie, and I sighed with relief.
I carefully set down Gram's bags and arranged them around my room. I placed her makeup bag and hat box on my desk and her other bags on my desk chair and a borrowed kitchen chair. As I was about to leave, I froze. In my rush to clean my room, I had forgotten about the lightsaber hidden in my sock drawer. I couldn't risk my nosy grandmother accidentally finding it. I hastily dug it out of the drawer and thought desperately about where I was going to put it. I came to the conclusion that it couldn't stay in my bedroom without me.
Well, I needed to start carrying it on me more often anyway. Might as well start now.
I didn't have any pockets big enough to fit it, so I shoved it into my high dress sock. The fabric stretched to barely accommodate it, but my makeshift holster held, and I sighed with relief when I dropped my pant leg and was unable to see it.
I emerged from my room just in time to see my grandmother inspecting the bathroom across the hall. Her wrinkled face was contorted into a deep frown as she inspected all the surfaces my mom and I had just slaved over. She ran a manicured finger around the rim of the sink, her frown deepening.
"Really, Jean," she hummed, her tongue clicking as she made her way back to the living room. "You're raising a child here? No wonder the poor thing gets sick every year."
"She and I are perfectly fine, mom," my mom sounded ready to scream, or cry, or both, and I shrank back. My aunt gave my mom a comforting pat and squeeze on the shoulder.
To my dismay, my grandmother caught a glimpse of me trying to slink away and turned her attention to me. "Amelia, dear," she said, beckoning me to join the rest of the family in the living room. "Come here and let me have a look at you. I haven't seen you since Christmas."
With stiff knees and every instinct screaming to run fast and far away, I did as I was told. She sat on my mom's recliner, her ankles crossed and turned to the side and her hands resting in her lap. I came to a stop in front of her, and she looked me up and down with a frown of disapproval.
"Oh Jean, haven't you taught this poor girl how to be a lady?" she scolded.
"She doesn't have to wear a dress to be a lady," my mom grumbled.
"But why is she not wearing any makeup? Does she need me to buy her some?"
"I won't make her wear anything she doesn't want to wear," my mom barked, and I flashed her a smile of gratitude.
My grandmother couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Nonsense," she brushed off my mother with a wave of her hand. "Every young woman wants to look pretty for the boys." She looked back at me sharply. "You are interested in boys, aren't you?"
"That's none of your-" I started to rebuke angrily.
"It's a shame that neither of my daughters were able to hold onto a man," she interrupted with a shake of her head. "And judging by the way my poor only grandchild is turning out, she doesn't have much hope of finding a husband either."
"She has a date to the Homecoming dance," my mom replied.
"Oh excellent!" Gram exclaimed with a clap of her hands.
"Who's the lucky date?" my aunt chimed.
"His name is Dylan," I replied, shooting a glare at my grandmother.
"He is handsome, I trust?" Gram asked.
Yes, because looks are all that matter in a man. That and handiness around the house.
"There's more to it than-" I answered.
"Well this is certainly a welcome turn of events," Gram exclaimed, my news brightening her spirits. "I think this calls for a celebratory cocktail, what do you think, girls?"
"Yes," my mom blurted, "I think alcohol is definitely needed here."
"Mmm, yes," my grandmother mused, "I will have a mint julep if you please."
My mom and Aunt Claire practically ran into the kitchen in search of something to numb their pain, and I half wished I was old enough to partake. Anything to make this torture more bearable.
I tried to slip away to "go help my mother", but my grandmother beckoned me to stay. Crying inwardly, I sat on the ottoman next to her, the ridges of the lightsaber's grip digging into my skin as I walked.
"So, tell me about this new boy of yours," Gram purred, flashing a rare smile that made me feel uneasy.
I cursed inwardly. This was going to be the topic of conversation for the next three days, wasn't it? "He's in my English and History classes," I replied, trying not to give her too much information for fear of giving her more fuel for snide remarks.
"And what does he look like?"
"About my height. Blonde hair."
My grandmother purred in delight again, the sound sending shivers down my spine. "Does he come from a good family?" she pried, causing me to wrinkle my nose in disgust.
"I've never met his family," I answered.
"Oh Amelia!" she rebuked. "Do make sure you do that before your date, won't you dear? A man is only as good as the stock he comes from. You don't want to waste your time on someone who's beneath you. Just ask your poor mother and Aunt. They learned that the hard way." She looked me up and down, oblivious to the rage simmering within me. "Still," she remarked, "despite the other half of your parentage you could've turned out much worse."
"I turned out just fine!" I snapped.
"Of course you did," she said dismissively, "just be sure you find out what kind of family this boy is from, won't you dear?"
"Now listen here!" I barked. "That is not relevant to-"
"Your julep, mother dearest," my mom said in a voice so cheerfully venomous I half wondered if she had slipped something in the drink.
With cocktail in hand, Gram instantly forgot about my dating life and turned the conversation back to her daughters, who both had come back smelling like several shots of tequila. Every holiday the two of them usually polished off an entire bottle by themselves, and the worse my grandmother's mood, the earlier in the day they started drinking.
And Gram's mood was exceptionally petty today.
"Jean dear, are you still working in that corporate office?" she asked between sips of the green concoction.
"Yep, still working in the career I worked hard for," mom replied, earning a silent chuckle from Aunt Claire.
"And no one in your office is worthy of dating?" Gram asked in surprise. Good lord, this woman had a one-track mind.
"I make it a point to not date co-workers," mom responded, taking another sip of the wine she had poured for herself and her sister.
"Claire works in an office as well," Gram replied, "but she has dated a few of her co-workers before."
"I went on one date with one colleague, mom," my aunt rebutted before taking a large gulp from her wine glass.
"Yes dear," Gram answered, "but unlike your sister you at least tried."
"You know, mom," my mother growled, "we're both sitting right here."
"Yes, sweetie, I know," Gram chuckled, her eyes glinting darkly as she took another sip. Her painted lips curled into a smile as sweet as it was deadly, and I scooted to the other side of the ottoman to put as much distance between us as possible.
"You know, Jean," she continued without missing a beat, "maybe you would have better luck in your dating life if you learned to apply makeup properly. Why don't you have your sister show you while she's here? You seem to have forgotten everything I taught you."
"I think I'm good, mom," my mom grumbled. "I don't need to look like a porcelain doll."
"Hey now!" Aunt Claire spat. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"That you look incredibly overdone," Mom replied, turning her attention to her sister.
"This is how makeup is supposed to look!" Claire retorted. "Not like a spider crawled on your eyelashes and died."
"Your eyebrows make you look like a drag queen," Mom spat back.
"Hey, that's uncalled for!" Claire exclaimed. "This is how everyone is doing their makeup now! You're behind the times."
"And you're not 20 anymore," mom argued back.
I rolled my eyes. My grandmother had once again done what she always did best: pitted the sisters against each other, causing them to fight with each other rather than team up against her. Jeez, if there was anyone who was worthy of being recruited by the Sith, it was her. She was a pro at their tactics. The sight of her sitting on her makeshift throne, watching her children tear each other apart while she casually sipped her drink, was a sight that could make even Darth Saeleth quake in fear.
At the thought of the Sith Lord, my mind wandered to the lightsaber hidden in my sock. The bickering between the three adults faded to white noise, and I turned away from them to let my thoughts wander. I was itching to fire up it up again, to test it out and see what wielding a lightsaber was really like.
My heart sank when I realized that there was no way I was going to be able to. Not with the Padawans keeping an extra close eye on me, going so far as to watch my house 24/7. And yet, every time something creepy happened or Saeleth appeared, or when I really could've used their help, they were nowhere to be found. But then they watched over me while I did nothing but clean the house all day. It was infuriating and maddening to say the least.
My mom suddenly stood up, breaking up the conversation, which had continued to spiral downward. "I think it's about time to start dinner," she announced, collecting the empty alcohol glasses. "Lia, would you mind giving me a hand?"
I knew that was less of an order and more giving me an opportunity to get out of my grandmother's crosshairs, so I jumped up and practically ran into the kitchen to make myself useful.
"I'll help you too," Claire announced, smoothing her skirt as she stood.
"No no you stay put," mom insisted, "you're a guest here, you relax."
"No, I'm coming to give you a hand," Claire insisted, shoving past my mother to get into the kitchen as quickly as she could.
"Would either of you mind grabbing me another julep?" Gram announced as she sat back in her chair. "I am tired from today's travels and would rather relax, if you don't mind."
"Of course, mom!" Claire called back. "You stay put! We got this!"
When we were out of my grandmother's sights, the three of us looked at each other and sighed deeply.
This was going to be a long holiday.
There were clearly way too many people in our small kitchen, but we made the most of it as we prepared dinner. Mom had things mostly under control, so I spent the majority of the time tidying up food scraps while my mom and her sister partook of the tequila. Before I knew it, dinner was ready, and I was forced to sit next to my prim and proper grandmother while we ate. She made the act of dining an artform and fussed over using the proper utensil for each part of the meal. She also spent the entire time glancing between my plate and me and grimacing in disgust.
"You're not really going to finish all of that, are you dear?"
I shot her a deadly glare. I had taken the same amount of food as everyone else. "I was planning on it." I answered, my tone threatening.
She shook her head and muttered a tsk tsk, causing my face to flush red with renewed anger. "You really need to stop thinking with your stomach and be careful of how much you eat, sweetie," she replied, either blind to her cutting remarks or openly reveling in their effect. "Boys don't like big girls. And you're starting to get pudgy in spots."
"She is perfectly fine!" My mom spat. "She's athletic. Her body needs the fuel."
Gram ignored the look of seething hate I gave her and turned to my mother. "Don't overfeed her, Jean, or she'll never be able to catch a man."
That did it. It was one thing to criticize my attire or my lack of makeup, but to shame my body like that bitch Aurora did all the time…that was inexcusable. I felt the world come into sharp focus as the Dark Side of the Force flowed through me, electrifying the air. It coursed through me like my own blood, and I felt it give me renewed strength and power. My fingertips tingled and felt as if they were going to spark, and my lightsaber beckoned me to take it, to strike this bitch down and make her pay for what she said. Her suffering would give me strength. Make me worthy of the Sith.
Gram finally noticed my face and her mocking smile faded. The Force was not with her, but I could definitely see Dark Side attributes festering within her. She enjoyed the pain she was causing, but the sight of my expression caused the tiniest bit of fear to spark within her mind. I focused on it, feeding on it, letting it invigorate me and give me strength. The result was a feedback loop, and my grandmother's fear deepened as I fed on it.
The space around me bent on its own, despite my lack of commands. I could feel several objects in the kitchen begin to float unbidden, and I felt the half-empty quart of milk on the counter crumble under the pressure.
"Give in to your hate."
It took everything I had not to. But I so desperately wanted to.
There was fear emanating from my Aunt Claire too, but my mom was the only one of the three not indulging in fear. I could feel anger quickly building within her. It attracted the Dark Side of the Force, and I could feel a power similar to mine growing within her. I turned my awareness further toward her and nearly gasped when I felt the Force flowing through her too. There was no mistaking it: the Force was with her. I could sense a balance between the Light and the Dark in her, just waiting for her to take command of it.
And she had no idea.
In a gesture of bravery, she stood up, the action breaking my concentration and the feedback loop I had created. "How about some nice dessert wine?" She proposed.
"Ohhhh yes," my grandmother mused, her momentary fear disappearing. "A nice Moscato would be lovely!"
"I'll go get it," Mom announced, quickly turning to leave.
"I'll come help you," Aunt Claire practically begged, almost knocking over her chair in her haste to stand up.
"I'm going to go take out the recycling," I announced, slamming my chair against the table as I stormed past my grandmother.
My mother knew as well as I did that the recycling didn't need to be taken out, but she didn't protest. She knew my true motives, and after a few moments of fumbling with the bins I stormed out of the kitchen door.
The raw air of the deepening frost hit me like a brick. My anger still flowed through me, and as soon as I got to the curb, I couldn't contain it anymore. With a feral screech the reservoir of Dark Side energy building within me burst open in a radius of destructive power around me. The bins and their contents flew up into the air and scattered everywhere, and a few of the cans in the bin closest to me crumbled into metallic balls. The racket was loud and would attract attention, and now I had a gigantic mess to clean up. But I didn't care. Panting, and still trembling from the pent-up rage, I sunk to my knees, the carnage of our recyclables littered around me.
Luckily, my neighbors had either all left for the holiday or were busy in their homes with their families, so no one was around to notice my outburst. I looked at my hands and then back at the wreckage, still registering that this destruction had come from me. I tightened my hands into fists and smiled. It felt good.
I lingered there for too many moments before I stood up with a resigned sigh. Now I had to go find all the recyclables and re-sort them. I grabbed the bin closest to me and started scooping up all the metal that I could find, gingerly handling the cans that I had crushed. As I finished my task, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and I stopped mid-stoop. I couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was, but I had a sudden gut feeling that I was not alone. I dropped the bin and scooped up the crumbled remains of a large can of soup, its jagged edges lining the sides of the metal ball. I closed my eyes and let my awareness wander. In the front yard, against the house. Someone was under the window. And they were on the move, trying to escape through my neighbor's yard.
Not if I had anything to say about it.
I surrendered myself to the Force and let it flow through me. It invigorated my arm and I felt a burst of strength. I had my target in my mind's eye, and with a loud grunt I hurled the projectile has hard as I could in the direction of the intruder. The Force responded to my command and guided it forward with abnormal speed. I smirked when it hit its target square in the side of the head, causing the person to yelp and fall to the ground. In response, I immediately sprinted over to see who I had caught, my lacrosse training mingling with the Force to quickly close the distance between us.
The person tried to get to their feet and dash away from me, but with a snarl I swept my hand under them and grabbed the collar of their coat. I heard a young male voice yelp as I carried him with my momentum and slammed him against the nearest tree. My eyes narrowed when I saw who it was.
"Hello Bryce," I hissed, carefully watching his movements in the dim streetlight. His hands groped at my wrist, but to my surprise my grip remained firm. I knew that lacrosse had improved my upper body strength, but this was beyond my physical capabilities. This was definitely the Force aiding me and giving me physical strength. I could feel my hands going numb from the intensity of the Dark Side now flowing through me.
He grasped at his belt and went to grab his lightsaber. With a growl, I pulled on the invisible thread that linked me to it and sent it careening to the curb.
"You guys are spying on me in shifts, I see," I hissed, tightening my grip to resist his struggling.
"We're only protecting you," he sputtered, his panic taking hold and breaking his focus.
"I don't need your protection," I barked.
My anger intensified, sending a renewed surge of strength into my arm. I tightened my grip, causing Bryce to gasp. His struggles became more adamant, but I could feel the Force keeping my hold firm.
"What I need," I growled, "is for you and your friends to leave me the fuck alone! My entire family is here, I am in no danger, and I just want a moment of FUCKING PEACE!"
Screeching those last words, I threw him to the side with abnormal force. He grunted when he hit the frozen ground. Panting and seething with rage, I stood my ground as he struggled to his feet, picking up his lightsaber along the way. I half expected him to draw it on me, and I stood at the ready. But he thought better of it, instead taking off in a burst of Force Speed in the direction of Emily's house.
My anger gradually ebbed away as I followed his progress. Once he was out of sight, however, I was hit with a wave of sudden and overwhelming fatigue. My breathing became short, and against my will I collapsed to the ground.
