Chapter 2 #2
Uncle Richard shuffled in from the den, coffee mug in hand. Her father’s shadow for as long as she could remember.
He and George had grown up together—two boys who became two men who never really let anyone else in.
Best pals, drinking buddies, partners in whatever trouble they got themselves into.
If George was fire, unpredictable and explosive, Richard was the stone beside it—silent, heavy, absorbing everything but offering nothing back.
“Didn’t think you’d actually show,” he muttered, not quite looking her in the eye. His breath reeked of booze. Kara wondered briefly if he had taken the same destructive path as George did.
“I almost didn’t,” Kara said under her breath to herself, then, with a solemn smile, “Hi, Uncle Richard.”
He grunted something resembling acknowledgment and retreated toward the flickering TV light, muttering about missing his program.
Typical Richard.
“Tina,” Kara greeted as another figure emerged from the hallway.
The woman’s overly tight smile faltered the second their eyes met.
Aunt Lillian’s only child, the perfect daughter in her mother’s eyes.
They were once really close, especially in their childhood days; being born only months apart, they were basically raised together.
With lots of sleepovers, summers spent together, sharing birthday parties.
“Kara,” Tina said, leaning in with the briefest of cheek-kisses. Her perfume was sharp and sugary. “Sorry about Uncle George.”
“Thank you, Tina. You look the same,” she said, smiling as she took her cousin in. “It’s been so long. I can’t believe I’m finally seeing you again.”
“Classic never goes out of style.”
Isaac appeared behind her, his company steadying as she mindlessly reclined into him.
“This is my cousin Tina, and this is Isaac,” Kara said, her voice brightening for the first time. “My fiancé.”
“Oh. We didn’t know you were engaged.” Aunt Lillian cut in, lips puckered as if she’d bitten into something sour.
“Not surprising,” Kara said lightly. “We don’t really keep in touch. Do we?”
“You were the one who disappeared without a trace. How were we supposed to keep in touch? We thought you were gone for good. For all we knew, you’d taken your own life, just like your mother.” Aunt Lillian said, her words deliberately cutting deep.
Kara recoiled at the harshness of her words.
After all these years, some people never really changed, she thought.
Zoe then swept in like a saving grace, her arms suddenly full of bags. “Play nice, or I’m throwing this crate of eggs at someone,” she announced. “We’re not doing this today.”
“Let me help,” Kara laughed, grateful, and reached for a bag.
With her aunt and cousin dispersed, Peter and Isaac fell into easy conversation.
Kara slipped away with Zoe into the kitchen.
They worked alongside each other with ease, plating the hors d’oeuvres, arranging them on the counter before finally stepping into the slightly bigger crowd that was waiting in the living room.
A man she didn't recognize lounged in George's battered burgundy recliner. It seemed almost sacrilegious.
Most of the faces were vaguely familiar; distant family members were gathered in small groups.
“Maya,” Kara called softly as she slipped into the chair beside her youngest cousin, dark curls pulled into a loose bun. Maya had grown so much—she’d barely started walking the last time Kara had seen her.
Her eyes swept the room, skimming past the distant relatives she hadn’t seen since her mother’s funeral.
They lingered briefly on nothing before settling on a photograph—just the two of them—probably the last one they’d taken before Zoe was born.
It hung above an old piano, a reminder of when it was just the two of them, and life hadn’t felt so heavy.
She was pleasantly surprised that their dad hadn't taken it down.
The inside of the house looked unchanged, cold and lifeless, like a mausoleum.
When she found Zoe again, Isaac's phone buzzed mid-conversation with Peter, and without so much as an apology or a glance, he stepped away.
“Busy man,” Zoe said, raising an eyebrow.
“He’s trying to become a partner,” Kara replied quickly, the line so practiced it had long since lost any truth. “He has to be readily available.”
Zoe blinked, lips pressing into a thin line. “Even for his fiancée’s father’s funeral wake?”
Kara didn’t answer. Zoe leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. Isaac went out the back door at a hurried pace.
“I don’t mind,” she finally replied, though she didn’t believe it.
“Kara, that’s the second time he’s stepped out since you guys showed up”.
Second. Like she had been counting.
Kara stared at the door he’d vanished behind, the echo of his departure lingering more loudly than the conversations around them. How much was he usually missing? How often did he slip away like that, and she hadn’t noticed? Or hadn’t wanted to notice?
The question sat heavily in her chest.
Kara shrugged, though the gesture felt stiff and forced. She caught Zoe watching her carefully. Her little sister had always been able to read her like a book, even when Kara tried to hide what she was feeling.
She rose and paced the room, accepting condolences while avoiding questions from the strangers she was bound to by blood and expected to call family.