Chapter Text
Kate thanks a god that doesn’t exist, in her opinion, that she’s free for Thanksgiving. No major plans, no major political things. Sal assures her he can handle anything, and that it’s good politics for her to spend time with her family. Meaning, he clutches at her biceps and says “please, post something on Instagram about them, please.”
“I’m not even up for reelection, this is my second term.”
“Kate, I do not care. Please post a picture with your sister, mother, and father. Please.”
Kate doesn’t particularly care about seeing her father, but she’s excited to see Armand again. They’ve gotten over the whole her pushing him off a balcony thing and have turned into two bitchy queers gossiping together. And sometimes when she’s really mad at him, they physically fight, and he restrains his power enough that it seems equal.
Plus, she hasn’t seen Aimee in forever. She’s excited to see her sister. They’ll all be flying out to Aimee’s house, and Aimee has even invited Alice. Kate’s even flying out early, getting there two days before everyone else arrives.
And it'll be nice to be able to see her mom. She hasn’t seen Alice in a while, which is embarrassing. With the whole Armand visiting every so often and her dad having to pick him up sometimes thing, she’s actually seen her dad and her dad’s boyfriend more often than her. God.
It was nice of Aimee to invite Alice.
Lex sends her some outfit advice, confirming her guess that he has a note full of everything she has in her closet.
Thank you, she texts back, I’ve also recently bought these if you want to add them to your stalker note. She attaches a picture of her new sky blue and purple pantsuits.
Please stop buying pantsuits, Lex responds.
My birthday is coming up if you want to get me more clothes
Come to Michigan for Christmas and we’ll go shopping, babe <3
Kate puts it in her calendar and makes herself try to remember to contact Sal and Isobel. Isobel knows her schedule better than her. Sal can tell her if he can hold down the fort around Christmas, which the answer is probably yes, since he doesn’t celebrate.
But she doesn’t wear any of the nice outfit ideas Lex put together (although she packs them) when it’s time to get on the plane and fly to Maryland. She puts on a shitty The Vampire Lestat t-shirt she bought to piss off Armand despite the fact that it’s probably a bad idea to piss off a five hundred year old vampire and comfortable sneakers.
The girl sitting next to her is dressed trad goth. She’s wearing a necklace with vampire fangs on it and when she says “oh my god, are you Kate Molloy?” Kate prepares for the worst. She’s ready to hear about her father for an entire plane ride.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“Oh my god! You’re who got me into politics.” Wait, what? “I saw your running speech in 2019 and I was hooked. You made me realize I could really do something with my life. You’re the whole reason I’m majoring in poli sci!”
“Wow, kid. That’s really cool.” Kate finds herself smiling despite it. “Where are you going to college?”
“UC Santa Cruz.” Where Aimee went. Kate nods appreciatively. “I’m going to graduate in two years and I’m either going to start getting into politics or I’m going to consider law school.”
“Well, I hope to see you at debates. What’s your name, just so I can look you up when you graduate?” The girl, who’s name is Linh, scribbles her name down on a piece of notebook paper so Kate can keep it on her. They spend the rest of the flight having on and off conversations. When Linh works, Kate works too, jotting down notes and ideas for various things.
Sal had said this should be like a vacation. But come on. She’s a Molloy.
The plane ride seems to fly by, and by the time she’s disembarking and saying goodbye to Linh, she barely remembers that she was freaked out about leaving work at all. Or about seeing her father or her mother. So when she spots Aimee, she doesn’t hesitate to let her sister run to hug her. She just wraps her arms around Aimee and grins.
“Hey, Aimes.”
Aimee lets go of her with a grin. “Oh my god, I have so much to tell you about this clusterfuck of planning a Thanksgiving. I came alone so we could talk in the car. Did you check a bag?”
“No, kept it all carry-on. We can head out. So, who’s posing more of a problem: Dad, Armand, or your mom?”
“Dad, obviously,” Aimee starts as they head for the exit, “but I’m trying to do this thing where I make pre-excuses for Dad being, y’know.” Aimee glances around like they might be overheard, and then decides not to say vampire anyways. “So I’m calling her to complain, because I always do, and I’m like yeah we have to have dinner later in the day. And she says why. And I’ve got an excuse but the sun sets at like, six now, so we’d be having dinner at seven which is a normal dinner time.” The sliding doors open. The air smells like gasoline. “But apparently Mom thinks Thanksgiving dinner should always be at lunchtime.”
“Seriously?”
“I genuinely didn’t know she believed that. I thought we did it because my grandparents had to go to bed at, like, five p.m. So I tell Mom that Dad’s new medication makes him almost nocturnal, and I don’t want him falling asleep at dinner. And she tells me that he deserves it.”
“I can see where she’s coming from.”
“Okay, yeah. But do you know how much bitterness that would breed with our moms?”
“Good point.” Alice and Georgie wouldn’t let that go at all, actually. No matter if it was a medication problem and not that their dad could literally die if he went out during the day. “How about the blood thing?”
“Dad’s on a diet if anyone asks, and it’s Parkinson’s specific. Almost all liquids. He’s bringing his own blood in a flask, and I found a butcher who’ll give people animal’s blood for blood pies or whatever, so I’m making him this blood pudding thing that Armand says they’ll be able to eat.”
“First, ew.” Kate sometimes doesn’t like to think about the reality of what it means to eat meat, but she especially doesn’t want to think about blood. “Second, what, did you just call Armand for cooking tips?”
“No, I called Dad, and then Armand picked up.”
The pair stops at Aimee’s Honda Pilot. She opens the backseat and Kate slides her suitcase in. “What about Armand? He doesn’t have Parkinson’s, he looks about fifty years too young.”
“Same diet out of sympathy.” Kate slides into the passenger seat and Aimee climbs into the front. “Mom’s still complaining and saying they can give it up for a day. I’m genuinely wondering if she can bully Armand into eating some of my food despite how bad it tastes.”
“She can’t. I probably could, if you wanted me to.”
“Well, he likes you.” Aimee pulls out of the parking spot, glancing over her shoulder. The car’s a little too old to have a back-up camera, which unsettles Kate. Aimee says she’ll get a new car when this one well and truly breaks on her, or when the kids get sick of only driving Henry's car and want to be able to take one of the cars out on their own. Whichever comes first.
“Baffling as it is. I should call my mom and give her some of the same excuses. She’s already pissed enough about Armand’s perceived age. Nothing makes someone hate their ex more than their ex also being a fucking creep. I’ve tried explaining to him he needs to say he’s at least thirty-five with good skin.”
“Forty is about the youngest it’s not completely disgusting.”
“Yeah, but he looks young. I don’t know if forty is convincing. And he likes saying twenty-seven. Like our moms need more of a reason to want Dad dead.”
“Likes?” Aimee glances over to Kate for a second before her eyes snap back to the road. “Don’t tell me he’s getting a kick out of making Dad look like a pervert.”
“Well, he is!”
“That explains so much. Oh my god. Like why he tried to introduce himself as Dad’s assistant. By the way, he mentioned you pushed him off a building? Is that a metaphor or something?”
Nope. Kate very much did push him off a seventh floor balcony and she still doesn’t really feel any remorse about it. “No, I did that. He was fine. He’s immortal.”
“Why?”
“See, I’d tell you, but I’m worried that then you’ll push him off a seventh floor balcony.”
Aimee chuckles. Kate doesn’t bother telling her that she’s being serious. Claudia’s story was hard. It’s still hard. She thinks about Claudia sometimes, when she does simple things. For Claudia she thinks, keeping the girl alive through what she has. The woman, she supposes. Claudia was older than her when she died. Forty-seven to the forty-five that Kate is now.
She wishes Claudia had a grave. Flying out to Paris and leaving flowers where there used to be a theatre is too much.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Aimee says, sounding scandalized, “Dad asked if he could bring someone else. With Armand. Two people! Like it’s not gracious enough we’re letting him bring Armand!”
Kate gapes. “Who?”
“He wouldn’t tell after I told him no. I mean, what friends does he have though? Do you think he was going to bring another vampire?”
“Who else puts up with him?” Aimee shrugs. Kate looks out the window, trees coming by. She always forgets that DC is swampy. She likes the humid air, the way it soaks in. California is too dry, even if it’s where she’s decided to spend the rest of her days. Vaguely, she considers visiting New Orleans. “When’s he arriving?”
“In two days.” Two days before Thanksgiving. Alice will be there the day before Thanksgiving. “My mom’s coming the same day as him, but he’s arriving at night, obviously, and she’s there for the day. I had to talk her out of coming to the airport with us. She doesn’t even like him!”
“How’d you do it?”
“Henry’s got work so I told her she needed to keep an eye on Reagan and Cole. I’m going to try and get her to take them to the Smithsonians at some point, just to get her out of my hair.”
“I can take them at some other point too, if you want. I was planning to go anyways.”
Aimee giggles, not meanly. “The train’s a pretty straight shot, especially if you want to see other stuff too. Maybe see the depressing museums on your own before you take the twins, but I’d love if you took them off my hands. Still, I need Mom to take them when I’m cooking because otherwise she’ll try to take over the kitchen.”
“Yeah, you don’t need her to see you cooking with blood.”
Aimee snorts. “Oh god, what have I gotten myself into? Life was so much easier when he was just a deadbeat.”
“And not a creature of the night? Yeah, I agree.”
Aimee turns onto a smaller street. “What’s with The Vampire Lestat shirt? Cole’s been really getting into him. Are you a fan?”
Oh god. Aimee doesn’t know that The Vampire Lestat is a real vampire and also Armand’s ex’s ex and current husband. How does she even say that? How does she inform Aimee that the artist her son likes is intertwined with their fucked up lives? “Well–”
“Is he a real vampire? Actually, don’t tell me. Fuck no. I don’t need to know.” Okay. Thank God! Except… wait.
“Aimes, Dad made the documentary about him. His whole thing is being a character from Dad’s book. Cole didn’t mention?”
“Damn. No. Reagan’s excited to see you, though. She’s only gotten more into politics. I think she’s got it into her head that she’s going to be the second female President.”
“If we don’t have another female President before she’s thirty-four that’s a problem.”
“That’s what I keep saying. She keeps responding that then she’ll be the first queer president. When I say we can’t be sure, she says the first out queer president. You don’t have any plans to run, do you? She’ll be devastated if you beat her out.”
“No, the presidency isn’t for me.”
“When’s your term over?”
“Next year. I’m endorsing Sal, of course, but I don’t know what I’m going to do next.” Kate fidgets with the little friendship bracelet Cole gave her last time he saw her. “Maybe school?”
“Studying or teaching?”
“Don’t know.”
Aimee pulls into a driveway. Her house is gorgeous, suburban, and white. Middle class security. Close enough to DC that it’s barely in Maryland. She hops out of the car and Kate follows. She takes her bags out of the trunk and refuses Aimee’s help with a wave of her hand.
“Hey, you aren’t still smoking, right?”
“Picked it back up, unfortunately.”
“Don’t smoke in my house, okay?”
“Of course.” Not that Kate had any plans to. Smoking in her own apartment was alright, but someone else’s house? That just felt disrespectful. Especially because Aimee had kids. She didn’t have the right to expose Reagan or Cole to that. Even if, admittedly, they were sixteen and had probably at least tried a drug.
She didn’t say that, and instead let Aimee say, “Thank you so much for taking the guest room. My mom wanted it, but I don’t need that much stress in my house. She’ll be all in my business anyways.” Aimee sighs. “On to meet your adoring fans. They might be more excited about you than their grandma.”
Aimee unlocks the front door and lets Kate in with a call of, “Kids! Aunt Kate’s here!”
Reagan is immediately scampering down the stairs. She’s grown since Kate last saw her, just as a person. Her blonde curls are cut down into an undercut with a stain of red dye. She’s wearing a Kendrick Lamar shirt and a small black ring on the middle finger of her right hand. She immediately stops in front of Kate with a grin.
“Hey, kid.”
“Hey, Aunt Kate.”
“How’s the future first queer president of the United States?”
Reagan’s head snaps to Aimee. “You told her about that?” she hisses in the way only a teenager can.
“Personally, I think your tagline should be the better Reagan, but I’m biased. Also, it’s not hard to be the better Reagan.” Kate opens her arms, just slightly, in case Reagan doesn’t want to hug her. And then she ends up with an armful of teenager. She hugs her niece tightly.
“Thanks.”
“No problem, kid. Have we lost your brother?”
Reagan rolls her eyes as she pulls away. “He’s got headphones on.” She turns to the stairs and hollers at the top of her lungs: “Cole! Aunt Kate’s here, dumbass!”
“Language,” Kate says, almost on instinct. And then: “you let them swear?”
“If I think it’s deserved. That wasn’t, Reag, but it was friendly enough. I think it’s bonding for them.” She directs most of the sentence at Kate, except for the bit of scolding. Then there’s the sound of heavy footsteps and Cole is appearing at the top of the stairs.
And maybe it’s because Kate hasn’t seen them since they were thirteen, but he really has grown. At least a foot. And what used to be floppy black hair is now bright blue and brushing his shoulders. His hoodie is blue tie dye and he runs down the stairs so quickly that Kate’s a little worried he’s going to fall flat on his face.
“Aunt Kate! Hi!”
“Hey, Cole.” Kate gives him a side hug, which he seems happy about. “What’re you into now? Reagan is politics, I know that. Still theatre, or…?”
“A bit. Theatre and history.”
Kate whistles. “That’ll be a fun double major.”
Reagan groans. “Don’t ask us about college. We’re going to have to have that conversation over and over again with everyone.”
“We’re trying to save it for the Thanksgiving dinner table.”
Aimee tosses her arms around her children, holding each twin on each side of her. “Because they are saints that want to save me from the conversations our moms undoubtedly want to have with Dad.” She kisses the sides of each of their heads in succession.
“Gonna be honest, I think it’s going to be so funny,” Reagan says.
“That’s because he’s not your father and you’ve barely talked to him in recent years.”
“I’ve seen TikToks about him. Him and that twink.” Kate snorts. “Is the twink coming to Thanksgiving?”
Aimee groans and Kate bursts into laughter. “Yes, because the universe has it out for the Molloys and your mother, who is not a Molloy, because she might kill me if I imply she is.”
“Thank you. And I’m so glad you can find the humor in it, Reag–”
“Me too,” Cole pipes up.
“–and Cole, because it will be terrible for your mother. All she can ask is that you don’t film it and put it on TikTok when your grandma and step-grandma…” Aimee pauses and thinks over the phrasing in her head. She looks at Kate, who shrugs. She doesn’t have a clue either. “And Alice start yelling at your grandpa.”
“What if it’s, like, really funny?”
“I don’t want my Thanksgiving going into a tabloid.” Aimee ruffles her kids’ hair. “Can one of you show Kate to her room? I’m gonna find your dad.”
“He’s in the study,” Reagan says. “Kate, c’mon, I’ll show you to the guest room.” Reagan grabs one of Kate’s suitcases before Kate can protest and starts up the stairs. Kate follows her, not that she’s given much of a choice. Aimee’s house is nice, all photographs on the wall and carpeted floors. Even her guest room, tucked into the side of the upstairs, looks nice. It’s turquoise and cream with hints of yellow. Kate is reminded of an AirBNB.
She sets her suitcase down. Reagan flops into the spinny chair at the desk. “Is Thanksgiving really going to be that bad?”
Kate looks at her. “How long can you talk about college?”
“I’m asking honestly.”
“Yeah, so am I,” Kate jokes, but she sits down on the bed and looks earnestly at her niece. “Listen, my mom and your grandma really don’t like my dad. And it’s pretty deserved. I trust them to keep things together, but unfortunately my dad likes to make things difficult. Plus, he’s bringing his boyfriend.”
“He’s really young.”
“He’s not as young as he looks.”
“Do you know him?”
“Uh, yeah, I’ve met him and we text sometimes. He likes me, or something. It’s a little weird, since he’s, y’know, younger than me.” Kate feels like a dirty liar, but what can she say? Armand doesn’t look even a little over forty-five. He barely looks thirty-five. “But I can confirm he and Dad are, like, actually in love. It’s not super toxic or anything.”
“Despite the age gap?”
“This isn’t TikTok and if I have to hear age gap discourse I’m going to scream. It’s weird. It’s really weird. I hated it when I found out and I still hate it. But Dad didn’t groom him or whatever people are saying about them.”
“I’ve also seen accusations of gold digging.”
“I think Armand is richer than him?”
“Is there going to be an argument? Mom said there’s a reason we don’t do family Thanksgivings.”
“Your mom and I will do our best to prevent a full out war.” Kate gives Reagan a sympathetic look. “You know, she’s done her best to prevent you from having a fucked up family like we did.”
Reagan smiles. “Yeah, I know.” She looks happy. Happier than Kate ever did. “Hey, can you help me write my Junior Theme? I’m talking about diversity in politics and the slow slide of the left to the center in the United States.”
“Fuck yes,” Kate responds.
She finishes unpacking as Reagan tells her about school. At some point, Cole barges into the room, complaining about Reagan monopolizing Kate’s time. Kate just chuckles and lets him have his turn talking about his own life. He just played Benedick in their school’s production of Much Ado. Kate sits obediently and watches as he does one of the monologues for her.
Reagan pokes fun, but all Kate can think about is how happy their childhoods have been.
Aimee is a good mom.
Reagan and Cole bicker their way out of Kate’s room, and then there’s a soft knock on the doorframe. Kate looks up to see Aimee. “The kids alright?”
“I am not used to teenagers.”
Aimee laughs. “That’s what I said when they became teenagers. What do you want for dinner? I’m not cooking a thing until Thanksgiving and Henry’s sick of cooking. So, takeout time.”
“I’m fine with whatever.”
“Thai food alright? I was just going to get a lot of whatever and we could all take a little bit.”
“Sounds great. You’ve got brilliant kids, you know? You’re a good mom.”
Aimee glances over her shoulder and smiles fondly. “I try. Dietary restrictions?”
“None.” Well, she’s trying to cut back on meat, but she’s not to the fully vegetarian portion of her life yet.
“Okay, awesome. There’s not gonna be much meat though.” For a second, Kate wants to tell Aimee to stay out of her thoughts. It’s not until Aimee is saying, “Reagan and Cole are going vegetarian now,” that Kate realizes that Aimee is not telepathic. She’s just spending way too much with Armand.
“Completely off-topic, but do you think it’s weird I’m accustomed to talking to people who can telepathically get in my head?”
“Yes.”
“Dammit.”
Aimee chuckles. “We need to get you some human friends, Kate. You want to come talk to Henry? He just finished grading quizzes, so he’s free.”
“I’d love to.”
She follows Aimee downstairs, where Henry is sitting at the dining room table. He lights up when he sees Kate, jumping to his feet. Kate has always liked Henry. He’s good for Aimee.
“Kate!”
“Hey, Henry,” Kate says, shaking his hand firmly. She has to look up to see him, but despite his height, he doesn’t look threatening. He reminds her of a Clark Kent sort of figure, with his short black hair and thick rectangular glasses.
“How long has it been?”
“Uh, three years? 2023, I think. You flew out to Sacramento.”
“Oh, yeah!” Henry grins and points at her. “When you got re-elected! I remember that. How’s the job?”
“It’s a job. How’s yours?”
“I love teaching, you know? Love seeing the kids learn. Now, Reagan doesn’t agree. She hates having her dad as a teacher, but to each their own.”
Kate snorts. The three of them settle in the living room. It’s nice, like it was originally planned out by an interior designer. Still, there are papers and things strewn about. Lived in and cozy, really. Reagan’s skateboard next to what looks like a prop crown. It makes her smile.
“So, Kate, are you ready for the shitshow?” Henry asks.
“Nope,” Kate responds.
“Honestly, I think maybe we should have stuck to the norm of just having Georgie over. No offense, Kate, it’s wonderful to have you here.”
“Just that my dad throws a wrench into the works, I know. Aimes, why did you?”
Aimee shrugs. “He’s seventy-two. He’s got Parkinson’s. It’s not like we’ve got years and years with him here.” Kate raises an eyebrow at the lie, but Henry is right there. Aimee inclines her head slightly. “Plus, Mom was saying we should give him a grand family send off before he kicks the bucket, which I’m pretty sure means invite him to Thanksgiving so his two ex wives and daughters can yell at him.”
“Yeah, okay. Fair. I mean, I’m not going to yell at him.”
“Got it out of your system?” Henry asks.
“More like I’m going to be pulling apart whatever mess there’ll be. Even if Dad’ll sit there, Armand’s going to try to get involved.”
Henry sighs with the weight of a man who’s heard his wife complain about Armand. “Why did he decide to come? Why did we let Daniel bring him?”
“Dad would have brought him even if I said no,” Aimee says. “I’m just glad he’s only bringing Armand. I don’t know how I’d cope with him and two others.”
“Can I say something mean?” Henry asks. Aimee waves a permissive hand. It’s not like they aren’t mean about their father. “How many close friends can your father ever have? I thought he was pissing everyone he knew off with that new book.”
“Have you read it?” Kate asks.
Henry shakes his head. “No, I don’t like fiction and I don’t particularly like him.”
Kate’s sort of banking on the same being true of her mom, Bobby, and Georgie. Armand is a distinct enough name. “Aimes, has your mom?”
“She got a free copy and I’m pretty sure she burned it. Your mom?”
“Probably not. Not sure about Bobby.”
“”Scuse me,” Henry says politely, “Why is this important?”
Totally not because their dad’s boyfriend is a vampire written about in the book. “Just hoping no one at the table has read Dad’s gay vampire erotica, because we don’t need more drama,” Kate lies.
“Oh god,” Henry says, “yeah, yeah, okay.”
“Don’t worry,” Aimee says, “we’re going to try and make sure it goes as smoothly as possible.”
Kate doesn’t add that as smoothly as possible might be as smooth as a gravel road that’s gone untouched for decades. She doesn’t need to stress out Henry, and Aimee gives her a knowing look. This is not going to be a calm family Thanksgiving.