Chapter 4: The Feast That Broke Us

He burst through the door, grinning like a kid, the cooler dripping on the tile. "Guess what I got!" he called, his voice booming through the house.

Mason raced in, eyes wide, already reaching for the lid. "Holy cow, Dad! They’re monsters!"

He held them up like action figures, making them duel on the counter. "Let me keep these in my room!" he pleaded.

Dad laughed, ruffling Mason’s hair. "Last time you tried that, your room smelled like the bay for a week."

Mason grinned, clearly not caring about the smell. He was all about the adventure.

I poked a crab with my fork, smiling as they bickered.

Grandma peeked from the kitchen, saw the crabs, and looked touched.

She hovered in the doorway, eyes shining. It was the first time I’d seen her look genuinely happy since she moved in.

She clapped her hands, her voice softening. "You remembered, Rob."

Dad looked surprised, scratching his head. "Really? I had no idea."

He looked a little sheepish, like he wished he’d brought home a hundred.

Grandma carried the box into the kitchen. “That’s a feast!”

She bustled off, humming to herself. It was the happiest I’d seen her in weeks.

Mason lost his crabs, snorted, and headed to his room. I didn’t have anything to say to Grandma, so I went to mine too.

When the house filled with the smell of steamed crab, we came out and sat at the table.

“So big!” Mason drooled over the plate. Grandma smiled and gave him the two biggest.

He bounced in his seat, grinning from ear to ear. Grandma beamed at him, her face soft for a moment.

Then she gave Dad two more, but when it was my turn, there were none left.

I looked at the platter, confused. Had I missed my chance?

Dad sounded surprised, like he couldn’t believe I’d been skipped.

Grandma scooped some pulled pork and green beans and said, “Big crabs take longer. Wait for the next batch so you don’t get sick.”

She sounded reasonable, but I couldn’t help feeling left out. I nodded, trying not to show my disappointment.

He shrugged, trusting Grandma’s explanation. I tried to convince myself it was fine, but my appetite faded.

Every crack of his shell felt like a reminder that I was missing out. I poked at my green beans, trying not to sulk.

A crab suddenly appeared on my plate. Mason nudged my arm: “Later I’ll save you the biggest!”

“Okay.” I smiled, picked up the crab, and was about to crack it when Grandma snatched it away.

Her hand shot out, faster than I thought possible. My mouth fell open, fork halfway to my lips.

Her voice was sharp, and she pressed the crab back into Mason’s bowl, mashing it into his potatoes.

That crab was immediately buried. My heart twisted and my eyes stung.

“What are you doing? I was giving it to her, so what?” Mason put down his fork and stood up, mad.

He glared at Grandma, his cheeks flushed. "It’s not fair!"

“Mason!” Seeing my brother about to yell, Dad got stern: “Grandma’s your elder, you don’t talk like that!”

“So what if she’s old? Doesn’t mean she can bully my sister!”

He muttered under his breath, but I heard every word. I wanted to hug him.

Grandma may be awkward, but it’s not that she doesn’t love your sister. She didn’t get any crab either—did you notice?

That shut Mason up. He slumped in his chair, stabbing at his food.

I tried to convince myself it wasn’t personal, but it still hurt.

I forced a smile, focusing on my plate. The food tasted bland, but I didn’t want to make a scene.

He mumbled an apology, but I could tell he didn’t mean it. He just wanted dinner to be over.

The clatter of silverware filled the silence, everyone pretending to be interested in their food.

He nudged his plate toward me, but I shook my head, not wanting to take anything from him.

I tried to sound brave, hoping it would make things better. Dad smiled, pride shining in his eyes.

He whispered, "You’re a good kid, Addie."

She took it without a word, not meeting my eyes. I wondered if she felt guilty, even a little.

The house was thick with the smell of crab, but my appetite was gone. I wandered back to my room, trying not to cry.

I told myself it was fine, that Mom would make it right. She always did.

I curled up next to her, hoping she’d notice how quiet I was. The glow of the TV flickered across her face as she scrolled through her phone.

The lump in my throat wouldn’t go away, no matter how hard I tried to swallow it down.

She patted the spot next to her, her voice playful. I tried to laugh, but it came out as a sob.

The words tumbled out before I could stop them, my voice muffled by her t-shirt.

Mom pulled me onto her lap and stroked my hair.

She kissed my forehead, her fingers gentle. "Some people never learn to let go of the past, Addie. It’s not your fault."

I told Mom what happened. She tore off her face mask, took me to the kitchen.

She didn’t hesitate, marching straight to the fridge like she was on a mission.

She smiled and opened the fridge. “Don’t give any to that brat; it’s all for you.”

She winked, making me laugh through my tears. For a second, I forgot all about Grandma.

I hugged her, feeling lighter already. Mom always knew how to fix things.

We checked every shelf, every drawer, even behind the milk. The only thing left was the smell, teasing us from every corner.

She pounded hard, her patience gone. I could tell she was ready for a fight.

Dad looked shocked, mouth open. “No way!”

Mason ran out, baffled. “It’s been hours—how have you not eaten yet?”

He looked from me to Mom, trying to piece it together. His fists clenched, ready to storm the kitchen himself.

I kept quiet, head down.

The floor felt cold under my feet, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

She squinted at us, hair in curlers, clearly annoyed to be woken up.

She plopped onto the edge of the bed, crossing her arms. "Let’s not play games, Mom."

Her voice was sharp, demanding an answer. I watched, heart pounding, as the room filled with tension.

Grandma’s voice rose, matching Mom’s. It was a showdown, and neither was backing down.

Mom tossed her hair, unimpressed. “Don’t change the subject. Where’s my crab?”

She stared Grandma down, daring her to lie.

Her words stung, but I stood my ground, refusing to look away.

“I said stop changing the subject. Where’s my crab?” Mom slammed the table, stood up, and glared. “I’m asking you. If you say one more word about Addie, try me.”

The room was tense. Grandma shot me a mean look and clammed up.

She pressed her lips together, refusing to speak. The silence was deafening.

I took a step back, chills running through me.

My hands shook, and I wondered if this was what family drama always felt like.

I didn’t know why Grandma looked at me with such hate. Was it just because I mentioned the crab that should have been mine?

I wanted to ask her, to understand, but the words wouldn’t come. I just stood there, wishing I could disappear.

He squared his shoulders, ready to defend me no matter what. "You can’t treat Addie like this!"

His voice shook with anger, louder than I’d ever heard him.

He glared at her, daring her to disagree. I felt a surge of pride—he was my little brother, but in that moment, he was my protector.

She threw herself onto the carpet, sobbing like a child. The drama was so over the top, I almost forgot to feel sad.

She was so loud that Dad, who was in his office upstairs, came down to see what was up.

He appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. "What in the world is going on down here?"

She clung to his arm, wailing louder. Dad looked bewildered, caught between two storms.

He tried to piece it together, but Mom was already two steps ahead.

He tried to defend Grandma, but Mom cut him off.

She glared at him, daring him to argue. Dad just sighed, realizing he was outnumbered.

He turned to Grandma, waiting for an answer. She looked away, refusing to meet his eyes.

Her sarcasm cut through the room, making Mason snicker.

All eyes turned to Grandma, the pressure burning.

She fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable. No one spoke, waiting for her to crack.

Seeing Dad not defending her, Grandma sat on the floor and started crying again.

She wailed, louder than before, trying to win sympathy. But this time, no one rushed to comfort her.

She sobbed, invoking Grandpa’s name like a shield. The room was silent, everyone exhausted by her theatrics.

She stood her ground, arms crossed, daring anyone to challenge her. Mason grinned, clearly impressed.

She raised her eyebrows at Mason, who got the message.

He nodded, grabbing a bag of chips from the pantry. It was their silent way of saying, "Let’s ride this out."

He dragged out a pile of snacks from the living room, set them on the table, and pulled me over to sit and eat while watching Grandma cry.

At first Dad wanted to say something, but seeing the fire in Mom’s eyes, he kept quiet.

He opened his mouth, thought better of it, and just sat down with us. Sometimes the best thing to do is nothing at all.

So in Grandma’s room, four people sat in a row on the bed, each with a bag of chips, eating and watching Grandma wail on the floor.

It was so surreal, I almost laughed. If anyone had walked in, they’d have thought we’d lost our minds.

Mason handed me a snack and clicked his tongue at Grandma’s sobbing:

He nudged me, whispering, "This is better than reality TV."

He grinned, eyes wide. I couldn’t help but smile, even through my tears.

Mom laughed. “Well, you got a free show. You should thank your Grandma.”

She popped a chip in her mouth, her laughter breaking the tension. For a second, everything felt normal again.

Dad and I stayed quiet, munching snacks and waiting.

After a few minutes, Grandma cried herself out and glared at us from the floor.

She wiped her eyes, clearly realizing her performance wasn’t working.

Mom’s voice was calm, almost bored. Grandma huffed, but said nothing.

She stood, voice trembling with anger. "Fine, I just won’t let you two eat! I gave those crabs away, not leaving you a bite!"

Her words were so cruel, I felt like I’d been punched. The room spun, my hands shaking.

I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Mason grabbed my arm, holding me steady.

Mom moved faster than I’d ever seen, her face twisted with rage. She grabbed Grandma by the shoulders, shaking her.

Her voice was a roar, echoing off the walls. For a second, I thought she might really hit her.

She’d told us stories about standing up to bullies, never backing down. Now I saw it with my own eyes.

The room exploded into chaos. Mason cheered, Dad shouted, and I just sat there, frozen.

He wrapped his arms around her, dragging her away. "Jenna, stop! She’s not worth it!"

His voice was desperate, trying to keep the peace. Mom struggled, but finally let go.

He puffed out his chest, ready to jump in. Dad grabbed him by the collar, hauling him back.

Otherwise, who knows how far it would’ve gone.

The room was chaos, but somehow, I felt safer than I had in weeks.

She kicked her feet, sobbing louder. No one moved to help her.

His voice was sharp, angrier than I’d ever heard. "Enough! This is all your fault! Times have changed. Girls deserve just as much as boys!"

He glared at Grandma, daring her to argue. She shrank back, suddenly quiet.

His voice cracked, full of hurt and anger. I could see how much it pained him to say it.

He slammed his fist on the table, making everyone jump.

Grandma stared at Dad, realized he wasn’t joking, then shrank and pushed herself up off the floor.

She stood, wobbling, her face pale. For the first time, I saw fear in her eyes.

She opened her mouth, but no words came. Dad just shook his head, leading us out of the room.

He closed the door firmly, his shoulders sagging. I knew it wasn’t easy for him, but he chose us.