the worst part about her late husbands demise, was the fact that his living will and testament neglected to have mary-jane’s name written under ownership of the home her and gabriel shared. having to pack up and move back home was one disaster, but the heavy sum was to make made it all better — she just needed time to go by faster so it was in her grasp. nevertheless, she was the first at the table after the announcement had come through as a letter under her door. of course, her father neglected to even tell her in person that this dinner was happening, never taking as much as a few breaths of acknowledgment her way at a time.
her brothers entrance was to be expected, a simple roll of her eyes at the swift movement he made to the bar cart — as if she didn’t have a full glass of vodka in her water cup at that very moment. ❝ beatrix, you truly believe he would explain that to anyone already seated at this table ? ❞ mary-jane believed vincent to be the only one to know, and if he didn’t, she would soon walk out. the click of her heels to be the only sound. ❝ did your daft mother tell you then, franklin, ❞ she coerced with a light grin and a side eye as drinks were served to the lot around the table. good, double the poison tonight.
frank had received the letter from his mother a day ago, it was cordial to say the least, nothing other than that they requested his presence, and he was honestly thinking about not going, he knew how much it would derail him to be all in the same room as each other. but, the fight to make sure trixie made it out of this family meal longer mattered more to him. he didn’t bother to dress up, he came straight after work still in his work uniform, by the time he had entered the house he had gone to the bar cart and grabbed the biggest glass he could find and filled it all the way up to the top before grabbing another smaller cup and walking over towards his old seat the table, next to his mother, right in the middle, it was still cold just like he had left it, he had spread his legs out underneath, sinking into his chair as he listened to his step siblings talk over each other like they always did, and he had barely smiled, just the thought of knowing how this night would go amused him because this time, he knew, that it wouldn’t revolved around him. it never did.
the last time they had one of these dinners it was an announcement for mj’s engagement and he had smiled into his glass, before setting it down, looking at mj who, of course, made a snide comment. his face was passive, his eyebrow raised. “how would i know, mj? you see, i have my own place now and don’t live here anymore—unlike you—i’m about as in the dark as all of you are.” he sneaks a glance at trixie, ever so passive and quiet, and when his mother walks in the room he doesn’t spare much of a glance at her. it was a hard thing, growing up in this house that held so many ghosts that frank tried to get rid of but he never could have. he knew that he wasn’t a crabbe, most days he hardly even felt like a longbottom because the only one that he had loved and missed most, was dead. he finishes the bigger glass of whiskey before he slowly starts to sip the second one. “so,” he says, a hint of humour in his voice, “who’s died or getting married?” that’s why they only all ever came together for as a family, right?
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