Mrs. Llewellyn put her hand over her mouth and her eyes looked pained.

Not this again, I thought with a growing dread.

She removed her hand and started laughing so hard that I was frightened enough to jump out of my seat and start towards the door.

“Where are you going, honey? You can't leave this family that easily,” she loudly announced while still shaking with mirth.

Grace picks up where Siobhan left off, recalling events around Cretein, then her and Siobhan's family that turned her world inside out.

- Eclectic Kitty

Part Five: Eclectic Drama

Shiv shook my shoulder to wake me and smiled when I stretched sleepily in the late afternoon sun. She was looking at me in that sappy way that I love so much. Her whole being envelops me in love when she does so, making me feel safe.

“Hey there gorgeous,” she gushed.

“Hey there yourself, my love.”

I put my hand on Shiv's belly, excited about the life growing inside her. Our child. Cretein's child.

Shiv was already moving to get off the futon. She still wasn't too bad off for mobility at four months, but she was showing a little.

“I'm going to make some tea. Want some?”

“Yes, please,” I said with as much appreciation as I could put into it.

“Just remember, Shiv,” I called down the hall after her, “no caffeine for you and the baby.”

We were expecting Justine later that night. Justine, who was my brother's one true love, was coming here to collect a boxful of odd bits she'd left behind when they broke up. I was certain she'd left them intentionally.

Within me, a scale of emotion weighed the anger over Justine's hangups that led to their breakup against gratitude for making an overall positive difference in my brother's life. Morality cheated and put its finger on gratitude, leading me to recall the time Chris brought Justine home for 'tutoring.'

Cretin and--

“What's her name?” Shiv prompted Chris.

“Justine,” Chris supplied.

“Justine? Seriously? Mary.

Cretin and Mary, sittin' in a tree
F-u-c-k-i-n-mmph!

Not wanting to die for Shiv's potty mouth, I hushed her with the non-zippered end of my body pillow, knocking her flat to the bed.

“You're horrible, Shiv. What if Mum heard you?”

She pulled the body pillow off her face to catch me mastering a smile that had been messing up my best remonstrative glare. I simply couldn't stay mad at her. She captivated me and her humour was infectious. She waggled her brows from beneath the shadow of the pillow, eliciting an involuntary set of giggles that set Chris on edge.

“If you and Sis are done punching my ego down, you think you could see your way to treating Justine and me with a little respect? How about it, Shit On Loo Smellin'?”

And so another row begins, I thought with growing irritation as I headed to see what the flash across the window was.

“Say, college has taught you something after all. Now you can be cleverly vulgar instead of just plain insulting,” Shiv said flatly.

“Shiv. Chris. Please. She's here.”

“Remember not to embarrass me, Shit On.”

“Only if you remember not to paint my targets so clearly in our verbal warfare, Cretin.”

“Welcome to our home, Justine. I'm Grace. I am most pleased to meet you. Come in and make yourself comfortable in the next room and we'll get started. Can I get you something to drink?”

“I'm fine. Thank you, Grace.”

I gestured toward the sofa, then turned to call up the stairs.

“Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“Do me a favour and bring down your things for class. We're doing it down here tonight.”

I rolled my eyes as Shiv predictably called out, “Is she cute?”

“Shhh!” Chris hissed.

Feeling somehow responsible, I turned to Justine and smiled apologetically.

“Shiv. Please join us down here. We need some work done in our shared classes as well.”

Two hours of lecturing, one large cheese deep dish and one large thin crust ham, mushroom, jalapeá±o and red onion pizza later, the lessons fell by the wayside and we found Justine to be excellent company. She could keep up with us just fine and she had a mind of her own. It was easy to see how Chris was smitten by her, but hearing what Shiv thought later would like as not color my decision on that; and that realization scared me.

Our discussion turned to music and I almost changed my mind entirely about the gravity I'd attributed to Shiv's input.

“Mounting Bros is a craptastic band who have no message and no clue what music is. They are doing what sells and what sells now is voice-cracking wannabes aping the likes of Alanis Morissette at worst and echoing R.E.M. at best.”

Justine held her ground. “Counting Crows' message is all about being who you are and expressing it freely.”

“Really?” Shiv said sarcastically. “Then why is it that they feel the need to tread solely on ground that's already broken?”

I attempted to head her off before she truly got rolling.

“That's not exactly fair, Shiv. Was it not you that informed me of how each band builds on the influences of those that came before?”

“I did, Grace. Build is the key word, though. I feel that this band is good at what they do, but it's not like any other band couldn't reproduce the same results. Where's the contribution?"

“I don't know,” Justine admitted. “I hadn't really thought of it. I just like their music. What's wrong with that?”

“Absolutely nothing. Especially if you are willing to delve into a library of great music that already exists to find what made some bands what they are today. Remember MC Hammer? How about Vanilla Ice?”

“Wha-- Well, yeah I remember them. So?”

The challenge in her voice spoke of a backbone. It put a smile on my face that I wisely kept from Shiv's gaze as she got into lecture mode.

“Many so-called 'artists' blatantly ripped off what had already been established as successful. Rick James was given little more than lip service by fans of 'U Can't Touch This' and Vanilla Ice tried to sweep David Bowie and Queen under the rug when he ripped off their song 'Under Pressure'.”

Justine was politely holding a straight face against Shiv's rather condescending barrage. I couldn't take much more, so I attempted to direct them to calmer waters.

“Shiv has quite the collection of music, if you wouldn't mind listening to music as we study when next we meet.”

The look I got from Shiv was one I'd seen nearly five years prior when I asked if I could borrow a record. Something to the effect of “Touch my albums and feel death. Attempt to remove one from this room and you'll wish for it.”

The pizza boxes needed cleaning up, so I busied myself with that when Chris interceded to avert a fracas.

“Well, maybe you might bring some of your favourites over next visit, Justine. That way, Shiv here would have an idea of what type of bands you'd like that were inspirational to them and bring over a CD the session after.”

Chris could be something of a genius in his own way. Watching Justine and Shiv digest the advice and decide that it was a best fit solution made me proud to be his sister. He had a way of authority that he seldom used, but worked every time. It was a little irritating that Chris had essentially told Shiv the same thing I had, but I chalked that up to her finally getting it through her head that she need only bring MP3s, not her fragile copies.

Something was passing between Shiv and Chris. It had to be the perceived attack on Justine about her choice of favourite band. Then again, Justine was not minding Chris as much as Shiv, so that could also be the case. They needed time alone.

Though Shiv was sensing a person worthy to show off her collection to, Chris and Justine were here for getting to know each other. It's not as if Shiv can help who she is, I mused as I watched her excitedly run off a list of artists that Justine might like.

“Justine, do you need a lift home?” Chris asked curtly while making 'buzz off' eyes at Shiv.

“I drove. Thanks though.”

As Justine collected her things and made to leave, Chris attempted to be as accommodating as possible by offering to carry her books. I noticed that she didn't seem to mind the extra attention and even stroked her hair over an ear to allow Chris to see her smile.

That's the way, I thought with a smirk of approval. Chris doesn't stand a chance of getting away from this lioness.

Shiv and I moved to Chinatown as soon as we had everything squared away with school, which left us with one more year of college for a baccalaureate and two more beyond that for an MBA. It was strange to complete my BS in Business Accounting at SFSU instead of SCU, but it was even worse for Shiv, who was going to need classes during the summer to meet the coursework that SFSU required over SCU's to get her BS in Small Business Management.

I dropped my bid for an MBA the following year when Mum told me about Dad's threat to leave her and cut me and Chris off. Financially, I would be lost at SFSU or even SCU without financial aid and now is certainly not the time to get into debt.

"Tea will be done in a minute," Shiv called from the kitchen.

"Be there shortly," I called back.

Mum and Dad had been fighting for years, but it was largely something that stopped whenever they knew one of us may catch on. It started some time before I came out to my parents. Cretein surprised us all that evening by coming to my defence at great personal risk.

“Dad, I love her,” I pleaded with tears just beginning to drip from my eyes.

“It's not right, Ling!”

“Are you using my Chinese name in some sort of bid to remind me of my cultural responsibilities? I'll have you know that there are Chinese lesbians that--”

“Your name is Miao Ling,” he all but shouted. “Bringing you to America has made you forget your place; forget who you are; forget your family.”

Willing myself to speak was becoming far too difficult. The lump in my throat was choking me. Shiv spoke when I started breathing heavily.

“Don't you see how you are hurting your daughter? She's not loving me to hurt you,” she spat.

“China is changing faster than anyone can gauge, so why do you cling to archaic traditions? Will you arrange a marriage as well? Was yours arranged for you? To Grace, family is the most important thing in her life. She knows who she is and what her priorities are.”

“<Why is she talking when I am addressing my daughter?>"

Mum bristled visibly when Dad used Cantonese to cut Shiv out of the conversation.

“She's her lover, Bruce. Your grandparents on both sides went through a similar push against their culture. 'Quite the scandal', you said. Your parents were betrothed largely because of your grandparents' break with tradition.”

“Theirs was a selfish choice, as was my choice to marry you. However, such a marriage carries with it the promise of grandchildren. What good can come of this?” He unnecessarily emphasized who he was talking about by thrusting an open hand in our direction.

Chris was sitting upon the stairs, listening and thinking as his knuckles whitened and his lips nearly disappeared into a taut line.

Finding my voice, I lashed out angrily, “You have made this life and are responsible for that which you created. You would turn your back on your own flesh and blood? Look at me. I'm one half you and one half Mum. What's inside my heart is nothing I control or would choose to alter. It's simply who I am.”

“Then I have failed as your father. I saw this was coming, but I had hoped it was not as bad as I feared. You wish to live with and bed a woman, then do so where I will not see it, nor hear of it.”

Chris jumped up, strode up within a hand span of Dad's face and looked fiercely down into his eyes. It was the first time I had ever seen Chris physically stand up to anyone. Dad was looking like Dr. Frankenstein, equal parts afraid and proud. It awed us all, I think.

“So you think that it is grandchildren and what people do in the bedroom that makes them good family? Good Chinese? Good people?

“I have been together with Justine for almost a year now, Dad. You haven't said anything about what our relationship means to this family.”

“Chris, please don't--”

“No, Grace. I want to hear what our father has to say about Justine and myself, since he seems to think it's a selfish act to marry someone not Chinese.”

“<You shame yourself with your words, Cretein. I respect your decision to marry whom you choose as long as it results in carrying on our family line.>”

“And if it does not?”

“What are you on about, son?”

“What I mean," Chris slowly clarified, "is that Justine can't give me or anyone else children.”

“She is injured? Sterile?” Dad guessed hopefully.

“No, Dad. She wasn't born a woman.”

Into the thickening silence, Mum spoke softly to Chris, “Cretein, love, you must be joking. Justine's a charming and beautiful young lady.”

“It's true, Mum. Sorry to tell you this way, but Dad is grilling Grace like he has the answer to how life ought to be lived and his child doesn't feature in that picture. Well, neither do I, then.”

“I don't appreciate you keeping that particular fact secreted from us, Cretein,” Mum admonished lamely.

“Frankly, it's not your business. I'd have told you when I knew the time was right and that time certainly wasn't right now. I was hoping to tell you when Justine and I had moved in together.”

“<You are having sex with a man who pretends to be a woman? My son? My daughter confesses her love for a woman? This is not my family.>”

With that, Dad walked out the front door, put on his shoes, then drove off into the night. He didn't call for a week following the row and wouldn't show his face until Chris and I had moved everything out of 'his' house.

“Good evening Mrs. Llewellyn.”

“You girls look like you've been fighting. Is everything OK?”

“Yeah, we've been fighting, Mom, but not with each other.”

“What happened?”

“Could I make some tea and have us all sit down?”

“Sure thing, hon.”

Mrs. Llewellyn was looking quite concerned. I hoped that it wouldn't get as heated as it had been at my home. Any further shouting would likely send me over the edge into true hysteria.

Siobhan made tea for herself and me. Her mother was cradling her ever-present cup of coffee. After a good five minutes of uncomfortable silence, Shiv handed me the milked, sweet Earl Grey. The way she made it was delicious and fortifying, like a love tonic to soothe the cold emptiness my father left.

“Mom? Is Dad around?” Siobhan inquired.

“He's asleep at this hour, hon. He has to work at 4am tomorrow to fill in for Gil, since he broke his arm.”

“Perhaps it's better to tell you first, then.”

“You're scaring me, sweetie.”

“No need to be scared, Mom. I just wanted to tell you about Grace and I.”

Mrs. Llewellyn put her hand over her mouth and her eyes looked pained.

Not this again, I thought with a growing dread.

She removed her hand and started laughing so hard that I was frightened enough to jump out of my seat and start towards the door.

“Where are you going, honey? You can't leave this family that easily,” she loudly announced while still shaking with mirth.

I was shocked into stillness.

“Mom. You knew?"

Shiv was clearly as aghast as I.

“I'm just happy you finally got around to telling us about it. Your father and I will love you no matter what.”

A creaking of the stairs iced my blood all the more.

“I'm trying to sleep, damn it," Mr. Llewellyn's gravelly voice groused. "What's going on?”

“Shiv and Grace are an item, Dan. Did you know?”

“Aww, jeeze,” Mr. Llewellyn said dismissively. “Welcome to the family. Now be a little quieter.”

With that, he went back up to bed and Mrs. Llewellyn started laughing again. I wasn't sure if I hated her parents for being so accepting or envied Shiv so badly that it felt like hate. Either way, I wasn't given time to ponder it overly much, what with Mrs. Llewellyn burying me in a hug that would have done in a less substantial woman.

“Welcome to our family, Grace.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Llewellyn,” I managed to mumble past her shoulder.

“Please call me Alana. Dan loves that you have our last name down pat, but I think being with our daughter merits an upgrade to using first names, OK?”

“Yes, Alana.”

“Oh shit, just call me Mom.”

I started sobbing with relief and 'Mom' held me the whole while.