I step away from my grandmother because I can see she's about to strike me. She doesn't hit me, but refuses to say a word the rest of the afternoon. She's obviously upset with me.

When my mother returns that afternoon, I can see the discouragement on her face. "Did you find an apartment for us?" I ask, hopefully.

She pulls me aside, "Evie, your father only gave me seventy five dollars for food this week. That was before all this happened. We're going to have to stay here for a while." She's always worried about not having enough money. I don't know how much she's saved, but it's obviously not enough for us to start a new life.

The next week, my father shows up sober with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He hands them to my mother with a big smile on his face. "I'm sorry I lost my temper, Claire." Before she can react, he embraces her. I overhear him confiding, "Dad and I are going to get Ryan a new car." I'm absolutely floored by my father's act of reparation and contrition. He's never apologized for anything. He comes over to me and opens his arms. "Give your father a big hug, Evie. I missed you." Reluctantly, I step forward and allow him to embrace me. I glance over at my mother. Her face is conflicted. Everything feels forced, as if we're being swept downriver towards a treacherous waterfall. Over my father's shoulder, I see my grandmother smile at him. This is all her doing. She's convinced him he wants his family back.

My grandfather arrives home with Ryan. There's an awkward silence until my father gives him a curt apology. "I'm sorry Ryan. I want to make what happened up to you." Ryan, and my father disappear into the den. They're in there for a long time, but when they come out, Ryan seems surprisingly relaxed and trusting towards our father. I want to scream at all of them. Stop pretending everything's all right.

My grandmother's indefatigable voice interrupts my angry thoughts. "We're going to have a nice family dinner tonight. We'll put this all behind us." I want to say something, but as if she can read my mind, she glares at me.

"Dear Lord, Let us give thanks..." My grandmother says the grace and we all mumble, reciting it with her, but I can't eat anything.

"May I be excused?" I ask my mother.

"What's wrong, Evie? Are you feeling sick?" I nod.

While everyone's eating dinner, I decide to search for more pictures of Mabel. My grandfather's a photography buff, there must be more pictures of her. Upstairs, I head for my grandmother's writing desk. I know I shouldn't be rifling through her things, but my curiosity overcomes my fear of being caught. On the floor next to her sewing basket, I find some leather bound photo albums. When I open them, I find pictures of Mabel, in various ages smiling in all of her pictures. There's also birthday card, and letters she's written to my grandparents.

As I flip through the albums, a bunch of loose photographs flip out onto the floor. Picking them up, I gasp. They're all of my father and his brother with the same dark blotches floating above their heads. I pocket four of the pictures, including one of the ones with Mabel.

After dinner, I go find my grandfather in his den. He's smoking a cigar and having a glass of brandy. The strong smell of smoke makes my stomach roil, but since I didn't eat anything, there's no danger of hurling.

"Gran-pop? Can I ask you something?"

"Of course you can, sweetie. What is it?" He seems glad to see me, and blows a smoke ring in my direction. I retrieve the irregular pictures and hand them to him. He examines the pictures for a minute before exclaiming, "Where did you get these? I thought they were all thrown out."

I lie. "They were in one of the bureau draws upstairs. I found them when I was looking for the checkerboard."

"What are these dark blotches?"

"They're overexposure that ruined the pictures."

I point to the picture of Mabel. "Is this one of my cousins?"

My grandfather's face grows pained. "Yes, Mabel's one of your uncle Samuels' child."

"How come I've never met her?"

"Evie, we don't talk about this."

"Why not?"

"It's complicated." He sighs, putting his cigar on the lip of an amber ashtray. "Your uncle, Samuel, and your father were always competitive growing up, but they got along alright when they were younger. They started drifting apart after they went into the service. Your uncle was stationed in the south, where he met and married a black women, Janice. Your father didn't get married until after he went to college. That's when he met your mother and later married her." I nod. I've this much of my parent's history, how my mother met my father.

My grandfather pauses before he continues. "After Ryan was born, your mom refused to see Sam anymore." He adds, delicately. "She never explained why." He picks up his cigar again.
Not long after, your uncle, started drinking.

"Like dad?" I ask. He nods.

"Janice divorced him after five years. Not long after, he took his own life. Your grandmother was heartbroken. Sam was her favorite."

I ponder this information for a minute. "Where does the family live, now?"

"Here in Philadelphia. Janice remarried."

There's a knock on the door and my grandmother enters. "Evie, stop bothering your grandfather. He needs his rest."

The next day, my father arrives with a new car for Ryan. I have to admit, it is nicer than the first Firebird, but it's a black color, like the coffin from my dream.