Page 33 of Never Invite a Vampire to Dinner

“The first time was in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner. My father couldn’t wait another hour, apparently. There was a turkey involved. Gran had to move it.”

“That seems unfortunate for the turkey.”

“It recovered.”

His mouth twitches.

“They got married at twenty-two. They divorced when I was twelve.”

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

“Don’t be. It wasn’t dramatic. No one threw anything. They were very civilized about the whole thing, which was honestly worse. They just got quieter and sadder and then my father moved out, we moved in here, and everyone kept telling me how well I was handling it.”

I pull the blanket higher over my knees.

“I was extremely well-adjusted about it at the top of the stairs.”

Julian says nothing. He does that better than anyone I’ve ever known. He doesn’t jump into a silence because it exists. He lets it have the space it needs.

“Then when I was nineteen, Dad asked her again.”

Julian raises an eyebrow.

“At the same table?”

“Same table. Another Thanksgiving. Again with everyone watching. Again because apparently the man couldn’t stand to wait through dessert.”

“Did she say yes?”

“She made him wait until she finished chewing.”

He almost laughs. I can see it behind his eyes.

“Then she said yes.”

“They remarried?”

“Three months later.”

I look down at my hands.

“For a while it was like watching something broken suddenly become whole again.”

The storm hits the house hard enough to make the windows flex. Neither of us looks up.

“Nine years ago, they went to Camden for their anniversary. Four years since the second wedding.” I swallow. “My mother bought a new coat. That’s the detail I always get stuck on. She hated buying coats.”

Julian goes very still.

“Black ice on Route 1 north of Lincolnville. A truck came around the curve.” My voice has gone flat. “I was twenty-three and working in a restaurant in Portland. Four hours away and asleep.”

“How did you find out?”

“Gran called.”

The candle nearest the hearth gutters.

“I came home the next morning, and this house was filled with people. I hardly knew half of them. Gran sat in that chair.” I point towards the armchair by the fireplace. “She didn’t speak for a day and a half.”