I’m on my phone in the back of the van with my family. We're all heading to visit my other set of grandparents in Maryland for the fourth of July. On the highway, I look out the window through the windows of other vehicles. Two nose-pierced teen girls, one with an afro, one with a wolf cut. An older-twenties looking woman with a Buddha bobblehead on the dash. A middle-aged or elderly Hispanic husband and wife with bellies that run the negative space around them. I wonder where they're going, what they're talking about. I daydream about being in there with them. Anywhere but here. I’ve got Breakthespell by mk.gee in my headphones. There's crust, crumbs, and a peppermint wrapper in the cupholder beside me, all been there for months. We drive over a river I don't know the name of. the sky is empty and blue.
We've made it. Dad opens the door first to check if grandad's changing grandma's diaper since she can't do that stuff herself. We pour in and take turns giving grandad a hug, then head to where grandma spends the day, slouched in her chair. "Yeah, get DOWN with your ol' bad self!" she cackles to me as I kneel down to hug her. Her nails look like gnashed concrete, one of them has blood under it. Peter strikes up a conversation with grandad about Norse mythology and antisemitism accusations against Tolkien. I stumble off to the bathroom and lock the door. Back in our house the part you twist being vertical meant it was locked, but here it's the opposite. A centipede crawls on the mirror.
Shabbat dinner. Mom brought bread she made before we left. We started this years ago when she saw Jewish Christians and decided to take it and make it "more Christian". Grandad's unfamiliar with all this. Every time he asks a question, grandma asks what the answer was, still in the next room's chair, unable to move or hear us well.
We stand "to bless the mother" as dad reads Proverbs 31 abridged. Mom passes her non-folding folding phone around so we can all read our verses. The atmosphere is strangely tense. Subtle facial movements from one brother makes others lose it and giggle a bit. "This is no time for craziness" dad says.
Communion bread reduced to a speck as it's split between everyone passing it to me. Grandma yells at us after eating hers 'cause she thought that was the real meal and wanted more. My youngest brother startles and drops his glass of "wine" (fermented cranberry juice). The shards look like just 3 big chunks so we carry on without putting effort into making sure there's no more glass.
We sing the fake gospel song my mom wrote before I was born. Everything and everyone is everywhere. I half-jokingly act as a background singer, and mom laughs ‘cause the subconscious joke is how much of a fake gospel song it is. Shabbat shalom. This dinner doesn't work in text cause the lack of timing strips it of its subtly horrifying comedy.
4th of July party in the basement. I wrote about this part of their house 4 years ago, and those words still ring true. Appalachian birch beer. Spiced pretzels. Kids in the street outside light firecrackers and blast Born In The USA as if it wasn't about a disillusioned Vietnam vet, just like Regan before them. Grandma told us about the waves in her ocean painting. This house hosts art from three generations of women in my family. My sister recently told me about anti-demon prayers our parents wrote for her. My aunt recently told me my dad performed exorcisms on her when she was young. I switch away from Krita the moment mom pokes her head in the room ‘cause none of these people could ever comprehend the shit I’m creating. I see my silhouette in one of my aunt's paintings. I feel bloated, depressed, and on edge in ways I can't articulate, but at least I can listen to Caroline Polachek and go walk out to the empty fields at midnight.