We had many discussions here before we returned his call. Foremost being the mandate that there was to be no drinking at the house whatsoever, nor returning to the house drunk. Points to which Tony agreed and said he would relay to the others.

They all arrived late the day before Thanksgiving in a rented SUV, Tony and Tyler wearing short sleeved shirts and shorts (no coats), irrespective of the below zero windchill and mass of ice upon the ground. I walked outside and greeted them, taking a couple of coats out to them as I passed. Tim jumped out and hugged me, saying how glad he was there, having just the day before leaving the drug rehab unit to come with the boys. Nick went to work getting the luggage, while Chris exited the vehicle. He was sluggish and obviously tired, having "not slept the night before". I let it pass, I only have suspiciouns anyway.

I had to combat my feelings of being uncomfortable as I brought them inside, carrying some luggage for them. I am not the best conversationalist, I have always hated entertaining - I silently prayed mom would get home soon. We exchanged the usual small talk, with Nick and Chris commenting on how big the house was now. Years before they had come to Ohio for their mother's funeral, before our last round of enlarging renovations to the house. Tony and Tyler immediately settled into the loveseat with their computers. I showed them the rooms throughout the house, and the spare bedroom upstairs.

Mom got home finally, as did Lisa, and we settled in to make dinner. After dinner, while getting the plastic bags to put away the food, Lisa inadvertently revealed where the licquor cabinet was while Chris was in the room. It was a matter of an hour before he and Tim were fixing drinks. I was instantly furious, but mother said nothing, and I, not owning the house, felt no right to complain. Silently stewing, I went through the rest of the night with the two of them emptying a couple bottles, without comment nor asking of permission. We had set up a table and heater in the garage for the smokers, where they spent many hours, with their drinks and cigarettes. As it grew later, they became more irate and obnoxious, I basically avoided them, getting more and more furious as the time passed. Nick came to me and asked to use my car, to which I refused, saying that I disallow anyone to use my car since I had lost a vehicle to someone before that way. (nor was I feeling compelled to risk being held responsible for any drunk driving incident should they get into an accident)

Later, Mother comes and asks for my keys, saying she is going to lend them the car anyway, because Tony didn't add the younger boys to the rental vehicle as drivers (gee, wonder why). I silently fume, get my keys and hand them to her, telling her that I am going upstairs for the rest of the night because I am less than pleased.

I stayed upstairs working on school stuff getting more incensed by the moment, able to hear them carrying on thru the air vent in the floor to the kitchen just below. Unfortunately, I have a high propensity to become more and more fixated upon a thought, in this circumstance, I became more and more threatened by their drinking and the potential misuse of the car. Ian and Mary Ann showed up, I stayed upstairs. He came upstairs and talked to me about helping with the wedding invitation list, to which I agreed, wanting the distraction.

I returned downstairs into the kitchen, ignoring Chris' jibes to get my attention. Nick made a comment, asking if everything was alright, to which I answered that "no, it is not." I grabbed the rolodex and went out into the living room with Ian, Mom and Mary Ann and helped decide on the invitations to be sent for our side of the family. Ian and Mary Ann had planned to stay the night, but as time passed, they noticed that there weren't enought places to sleep, so the left and returned to Columbus.

By around 1am, Chris struggled up the stairs to the spare bedroom, while the others settled down to sleep downstairs on extra mattresses. I didn't get any sleep at all until around 5 in the morning, listening to Chris groaning the whole night, clearly in pain. It was only the year before that he had revealed that he bleeds when he drinks, his esophageal tract bleeding, likely his stomach as well. I had noticed scabrous skin on his arms and neck he was hiding with long sleeves and collars. God, this is what someone looks like that is killing himself with alcohol. Why doesn't he care. My thoughts were racing again... what was I going to do.

I woke up the next morning (Thanksgiving) and got dressed quickly. I went downstairs, trying to make it a new day and calm down. I walked immediately into some of them already drinking. Something snapped inside me. I came back upstairs, gathered my books and hunted for my suitcase. I returned downstairs to the kitchen and asked mom for my keys, which she returned. While I was downstairs, Tim asked if I was alright, I said "no". Rita and Sara arrived in the interim. I went thru the master bedroom to use the other bathroom, as Nick was taking a shower. Mom came in and shut the door. "You seem upset, what is wrong." I contemplated saying nothing, just telling her I was leaving for Columbus, but I had had enough with it. The volcano erupted with me explaining to her that I didn't have time to deal with the drunken binges, the fact that it was being ignored, nor that it was being accepted. Rita walked in, leaving the door open, I saw Nick looking around the corner, hearing my ever-raising voice. At this point, I didn't really care. I explained that I wasn't lending a vehicle to people that can't refrain from drinking and clearly don't care about drunk driving and if she felt the need to give them a vehicle, then she could sacrifice her own car (something I didn't want to happen, but is beyond my control). Rita pipes in about the car shouldn't be risked like that. I lose it further, telling mom that I don't know how she can look the other way and watch them walk into the house, never ask if it is even alright to drink and just delve into the licquor cabinet like it's their own. She was stone-faced, no emotions whatsover, it was clear to me that she didn't know what to say. I never had to grow up with alcoholic parents, a statement I made, nor was I going to deal with their bullshit any longer in a house that had never had it before, nor would. She said she didn't want me to leave. I told her I would think about it, but they were not getting the car, regardless of what she said. I had projects and homework to complete for school on top of all of this... I wasn't going to be made to dwell in this alcoholic cesspool at my detriment. I left the room and slammed the door.

Tim stops me in the kitchen and asks me if I am pissed at him. I didn't answer, Chris refuses to meet my eye, walks with his drink to the garage for a cigarette. Whatever.