July 2023 Ver.

‘You’re not even my grandfather!’ He opened the door to his room, but he found himself hovering there. Uncertain of any move he made. Chanoix sighed and slipped fingers under his glasses to rub at his eyes. Rowan had come home alive. Even if just barely. This should have been a good day. Instead here he was crippled by fatigue due to its length.

‘You’re not even my grandfather!’ The man forced himself forward and closed the door. He still had a desk in his room as he did again and again as he moved from place to place. Old habits die hard. Wasn’t that the platitude? Slumping into the seat, he looked over the expanse of wood. The expanse with a layer of dust graying it. The workspace and his journals were untouched from the day he placed them there. The only thing that looked pristine were the bottles now serving as bookends for his own writings.

‘You’re not even my grandfather!’ He lifted a half empty bottle and stared at its contents. Chanoix tipped it this way and that to watch the liquid slosh about. Slowly, he focused more on the trembling hand holding it. His body was telling him to drink it. He really was pathetic, wasn’t he? He didn’t want to drink it. He wanted to enjoy his family. He wanted to be able to remember this time five years from now. Ten years from now. He wanted to be able to stand up and be strength they could count on. He sighed. He put the bottle to his lips. Not that it tasted like anything anymore.

‘You’re not even my grandfather!’ He had failed at so much. He didn’t fight for the woman he loved; let all those years with his daughter slip away; let her slip away; and now his grandchildren were slipping away too. Chanoix buried his face behind his hand. It didn’t matter that he was alone in his room. He didn’t want them to know he was falling apart again.

‘You’re not even my grandfather!’ The single good thing he had ever done was accept their father like he was his own. His love’s second child. A child that should have been his if he had fought tradition for her. Had taken the time to ask her to leave with him and their daughter. And then Raine died. She died and he had never laid eyes upon her or spoken to her again. A stack of unsent letters were in his desk somewhere, carefully concealed from sight, but too important to throw away.

‘You’re not even my grandfather!’ He remembered Ram had been younger than Avery when he arrived at their gates. He’d come looking for his half-sister, Lucille. He remembered how he was scared. How he was jealous and angry. How he was in so much pain from losing his mother. But also how he smiled when Chanoix had told him that blood be damned, he was his son. How amused he was when he’d agreed to try fishing with him. How tranquil he was when Devin was born. How he presented such a fragile newborn for him to hold, declaring, ‘Dravidant Chanoix, I’d like you to meet Dravidant Chanoix.’ He was never allowed to hold Rowan like that. His son and his kids were as dear to him as his Lucille and Rowan. And he was fucking it up.

‘You’re not even my grandfather!’ She was right, wasn’t she? He was treating her and Avery differently. The family head stumbled to his feet. His insides may have felt twisted, but he had to fix this.

His knuckles tapped the door lightly, “Devin? May I enter?” A sharply noted sob was the response. It wasn’t exactly clear so he took a gamble. He opened the door and leaned in to peek before entering. She was sitting on the floor. Her knees and arms were clutching a stuffed cat to her chest and face. It tugged at the memory of Lucille struggling to make the thing as a birthday present. He could see her green eyes glinting from just over top of its head. He walked cautiously and deliberately, focusing on traversing the room safely before making more of an ass of himself. Once to the bedside, he lowered onto the floor to sit next to her.

“Grandpa… I’m sorry.” Her face rolled deeper into the plush. She couldn’t meet his eye. Ashamed of how she had lashed out no doubt.

“No,” he hushed her as she started another round of crying, “No. Devin… you were justified in being cross with me.”

“I made you drink…” They both knew she could smell it.

“Devin. Look at me.” Once he had her undivided attention, he stated it firmly,“You are never the cause of such a crutch.” Even if she didn’t believe him. It was the truth and she needed to hear it.

She reburied her face into the old toy and he placed a hand on her head to rub between her ears. A habit that was impossible to avoid with emeran children such as her. “The day of your birth I was beyond elated when your father bestowed my name upon you. My first granddaughter. The first grandchild I cradled in my arms. Not all were understanding of the lack of blood between us. I knew you and Avery would garner such information from the townsfolk so I fortified my resolve even further to show how that fact was insignificant. After what transpired… you were placed in my charge. Your father trusted me with you. Not wanting to betray that trust, I’ve overcompensated. In doing so I caused a disparity in my treatment of you and Avery versus Rowan. For that, I’m deeply sorry.”

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“I urged you to choose as you wish. You did as I requested. Perhaps I had hoped that this recent blunder had taken the option from the table for you. Perhaps that’s the true reason I chose now to dare speak of hopes for the future.”

“If traveling with Rowan is the path you’ve set your heart on then of course my support is yours. An admittedly hesitant support as it is with Rowan. I simply worry. I worry there’s a day he won’t return. The idea of you being endangered as well was too over-” this wasn’t the time to stumble his speech, “-whelming for me in the moment.”

Her sobs had died down and now she seemed to be gathering the strength to speak. When her head raised, she frowned at him, “I just don’t want to be afraid of the world any more.”

He looped his arm around her to hug her to his side, “I do not wish that burden upon you any longer either. It’s beautiful out there and you should gaze upon all it has to offer besides heartbreak.”

She took to crying on his shoulder, “It’s not just that. I… I want to be able to protect people… because…” There was no need for her to continue. He already knew how the sentence ended.

“I know.” Chanoix loosened his grip and tipped her head up by the chin. The grandfather fished a handkerchief from his vest pocket to wipe the drying tears from her face. When he finished, she took it for a moment to blow her nose. He re-stuffed it into his pocket as is like a true caretaker.

He smiled at her and she reciprocated, “Now assist an elder with leaving the floor.” Even though he didn’t feel nearly as old as he should. At least not physically.

His granddaughter laughed and hauled herself up easily before offering him a hand, “We can talk about this more later, right?”

“Whenever you like or need.” Chanoix nodded to reaffirm as much as possible. It was almost night and he could see how much crying had taken out of her. He made his way to the door, managing to keep his tripping to once. “For now, rest. It’s important at your age.”

She had tailed him, “Okay, gramps. Goodnight.”

“Sleep well.”

She briefly fiddled with the bottom of her dress like she wasn’t sure if she still had the right to say it, “I-I love you.” But she would always have the right.

Chanoix smiled again, “And I love you, Devin.” He hugged her one more time.

When he left, for a second all he could do was loiter in the hall once again. He exhaled slowly. Rowan then Devin. Avery was sure to follow. Both of them had always been chasing after their older cousin. If there were any gods, he begged them not to punish his family further.

x x x

“Mom! Mom!” The little brown haired boy ran over. Two slightly younger kids tumbled after him. A cat-eared girl and boy. “Come play with us!” His blue eyes were shimmering despite a scuff on his face. The two behind him echoed the request with a delighted eagerness.

Chanoix felt a tug on his hand, his own irises lowered to find them reflected back at him from a white haired half-emeran girl, “Can I, daddy?” She looked the way she had the day he’d departed in her youth. His dear Lucille. Except. She was dressed in black. He had never tempted the fates by putting her in that color as a child.

His heart felt so full holding her dainty hand, “Of course, Luci. Remember to rest should you feel faint.” And like that it slipped away.

“I will!” Her tail waved about excitedly as she took off to join the other kids. “What should we play, Rowan?”

The boy rubbed his chin over such an important decision, “Oh! Let’s play the magic game!”

“Noooo!” Devin wailed, “I don’t like that game! It’s not fair!” The girl latched onto the black robe of the other girl, “Aunt Luci! Make him pick something else!”

Chanoix chuckled to himself as he sat against a tree. The day was sunny, but not overwhelming. A light breeze carried the scent of the green around them and shuffled the leaves overhead.

He examined himself again as he felt something in his other hand. His personal journal. For some reason he knew what page in which to open it. He lifted wax paper from it and placed a piece of charcoal to the image beneath. It was mere figures at the moment. As he sketched, he listened to those rascals wrestling each other not far away. The figures quickly became an image of his daughter, fully-grown, accepting something from her young son. Both were brimming with joy.

“MOM!” His view snapped to the children. Avery clung to Devin who kept him shielded behind her from what was happening. Their ears were pressed flat, looking on as Rowan shook the black lump of cloth on the ground. “Mom! Wake up!” His panic found him, “Grandpa! I-I don’t know what to do!”

In an instant Chanoix was with them. His journal tumbled off to the side as he scooped up his little girl. “Luci!” She coughed a bit.

“Is she going to be okay, grandpa?”

He waved a healing hand over her looking for something to fix only to find nothing. He was powerless to help her. Chanoix squeezed at her hand, “Luci?” He petted her hair, calling her name even more desperately, “Luci!”

She came around on her own, “Daddy?”

He sighed relief, “Luci… you must take more care. You don’t possess the constitution of others.”

“I’m sorry.” His little girl sniffled. “I just-. I just wanted to keep playing with Rowan. I still… just want to keep playing with Rowan.”

Chanoix hugged her closer, a cheek resting at the side of her head as eyes fell closed, “It’s all right.” He clutched her like she were his lifeline. “I would simply be lost if something were to happen. I love you, Luci. More than anything.”

Drip.

The sound prompted him to open his eyes. His hands were empty, his daughter missing from his embrace. Beside him red droplets soaked into the page now holding a sketch of Rowan the day he had left. Pain filled him as he dragged his gaze up. A woman loomed over. A woman in black with her body and clothes ravaged by claws larger than a bear’s.

“Then why did you leave?”

He couldn’t move. She needed him and he couldn’t move or speak. No matter how desperately he tried.

“I can’t live like this!”

Chanoix awoke violently, ripping off his sheets, and leaping to his feet. Only his daughter wasn’t actually there. She was still lost. His heart raced and he stared into the darkness for what felt like hours. The realization she wasn’t actually there took much longer to sink in than it should have. It always felt like she were only just out of reach. That he would turn a corner and she would be there. Eventually the tension ebbed and he fell back to his bed with head in his hands.

He wasn’t much of a father either.