“There’s nothing prettier than this town in the wintertime, with all the snow everywhere. I’d forgotten. It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen you. Believe me, this isn’t my fault. I’ve been meaning to pack my things and travel up. But there was one thing one month and something else the next … Of course, I must come for a visit.” Aunt Louise coughed into her hand. She stood in the dark doorway. “Are you happy to see me?”

“Of course, we’re happy to see you,” Dad said. He wore his suit pants and collared shirt from the office. “Come out of the cold, Lulu.”

“I hope I’m not frightening you.” Aunt Louise tottered uncertainly. She remained in the entryway. “I wish I could be a bit happier to be here, and not so reflective.” She reached her hand into one deep pocket of her long wool coat and took out an empty plastic bag. “This had chocolate balls … All you beautiful children, I brought this candy for you but I accidentally ate it on the bus.” She looked at the crumpled plastic in her hand and frowned. “I’m sorry. I thought that I had saved it.”

Talia stepped down the staircase to the bottom. She sat against the railing with her legs under her. She’d been upstairs in her bedroom jumping on her bed and had run down as fast she could when she heard the front door close and the rise of surprised, nervous voices welcoming Aunt Louise.

Aunt Louise tried to smile. “I’m a little out of sorts. I hope you’re not so worried on me. I knew I had to get away. I swear it’s not only loneliness. I’m not so pathetic.” She hiccoughed.

Her dad and mom gave each other a cautious look and then her mom left the hall. Dad followed her, making sure to give a warm, comforting smile to Aunt Louise. They spoke quietly from behind the door. Dad came back and gave Aunt Louise a folded square of money from his wallet.

“That’s not why I came this time,” Aunt Louise said as she pocketed the money. “I’m so embarrassed that you gave this to me. Of course, I need it. I always do. But I feel terrible. Thankfully, it doesn’t appear to be very much.”

“You will stay for dinner,” Dad told her gently. “It’s wonderful to have you here, Lulu.”

Aunt Louise took a cigarette from a silver box and went out onto the porch. “I’m sorry I ate all the candy,” she said through the screen as she smoked. “I bought it to give as a present. Because I was coming here so suddenly and unexpectedly. I knew I had to see my lovely brother and his family. But I love chocolate too much. Now, seeing all your young and smiling faces, I wish I could’ve made them happier. You know what?,” she hollered, suddenly quite happy. “I’m going to take this money your dad gave me and I will go down to the gas station and buy you dessert. Isn’t that a good idea? And you can come with me too, so you can all pick out exactly what you want.

“I’ve been meaning to see you for such a long time,” Aunt Louise continued as she stepped back inside and stamped her sopped feet on the shabby grey mat. “I’ve had a strange year or two, believe me, and sometimes things were getting worse and worse and other times, better and better, and often, sometimes bad and other times good.” She ran her fingers through Walt’s rumpled hair and tapped Estelle affectionately on her nose. She stared at Talia for what seemed to be a long, profound moment and winked before turning away. “I can hardly believe I’m still alive. I wish I could say I’m as excellent as all of you are.”

“It’s alright,” Dad said cautiously. “Why don’t you come into the kitchen and we’ll sit before dinner. We’re having roasted chicken.”

“Maybe that will be nice,” Aunt Louise said. “Like a home should be.” Her eyeballs were wide and earnest as she came a step further into the house. “It’s freezing cold outside in the rain and wind.” Her eyes crinkled, as if she were to cry. “I’m sorry, but I feel I’m getting a little sick from my traveling. I have a cough and I can’t smell well.”

Aunt Louise again took a cigarette from the same small box. She inspected it in the grey, fading light and then turned and went outside. She smoked against the railing, looking out into the mist with a thinking demeanor and she didn’t say anything for a long time.

“It must be cold out there,” Dad said. “Do you want to come in?”

“Aunt Louise, would you like to see my special showbox?” Talia was to say more, but her dad gave her a sharp look. “I thought maybe you would,” she whispered into her sleeve.

“You have a wonderful home,” Aunt Louise wheezed through the screen door. “I wanted to see you very badly.” Her voice broke.

“You can always come whenever you wish,” Dad told her. “We love it when you do.”

They were quiet as they watched her finish smoking. When she came in, she ate a few malted chocolate balls that she had wrapped in newspaper. She mumbled something about needing to keep something sweet on her to take the taste of tobacco from her mouth.

Mom had left the hall for the kitchen when Aunt Louise went out to smoke, and she’d returned with a small mug of hot cocoa. Aunt Louise took the chocolate with both hands and breathed in the steam.

“I’m a little down,” she told them. “I’ve been working for this small inn since June and have had a terrific time until this past week. Or maybe it was the last – thank you for the hot chocolate – it’s delicious – anyways, I was a housekeeper and was lucky enough to meet all sorts of people from all over the country.” Her expression passed belligerently from amusement to impassivity to what appeared to be discomfort or shame. “I met hundreds of people. I worked hard and had tons of laughs. Could we go into the kitchen and maybe there’s some beer around for me to drink … I’m exhausted from my trip and all I want to do is rest. “Anyways,” she sighed. “I was fired the other week, or the week before, and now I go about all day bored and sad. There’s nothing worse than not being able to do something.”

“It’s alright, Lulu,” Dad said sternly. “We should talk about this at another time.”

“My boss said that I stole a gold bracelet from a guest,” Aunt Louise went on. “I didn’t steal anything, but she was determined to think I did. There was a big blow-up between us and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Why would I steal anything?, I asked her. I’m not that type of person, I told her. She said that she thought so too but that nobody else but me could’ve stolen the bracelet.”

Talia tilted off the stairs until she fell on Walt. He shoved her off him and pressed his glasses back up his nose.

“My boss was my best friend,” Aunt Louise insisted. “I said I was her best friend.”

“Alright, Lulu,” Dad said nervously.

“I couldn’t believe I was accused of stealing. She refused me my final paycheck because she said I was a thief. Thank you so much for this hot chocolate. It’s delicious.” She sipped a little and seemed a bit more content. “It feels like everyone is changing all around me and I’m stuck feeling the same stupid way.” She looked at Dad, expectant that he would say something. “People are always leaving me. I often feel I don’t have a friend in the world.”

“I have some candy in my bedroom.” Talia stood. “In my shoebox.”

She could get it and be back in a flash. But everyone was looking at her too meanly and Talia knew they didn’t want her. Because they didn’t like her. It wasn’t fair. She had all sorts of things to show Aunt Louise, the special things kept safe in her shoebox under her bed.

“I need to sit for a moment. I’m so drained,” Aunt Louise said lowly.

“Come into the kitchen where it’s warm,” Dad said. “We’ll have a beer.”

Mom shifted her weight slow and heavy from one foot to the other. She took Dad by the elbow and they went again into the other room and began to whisper.

“I’ll show you the candy later,” Talia told Aunt Louise. “I have a lot of things in my shoebox and nobody can look at them. But I can show them to you if you want to look. I’ve shown them,” she whispered, pointing at her brother and sister. “Not everyone is allowed to see.”

“You’re a nice girl,” Aunt Louise said vaguely. “Everyone is so nice to me here.”

Dad came back and walked Aunt Louise into the kitchen. He poured a bottle of dark beer into a tall glass and set some crackers onto a plate. Mom busied around her, trying to get the roasted chicken ready. Mom moved slowly from the cooler to the stovetop and Estelle tried to help her but she was only annoying and got told to go away. Walt stood against the wall and folded his arms like Dad had them.

“It wasn’t my fault that I stole the bracelet.” Aunt Louise drank the beer in small sips. Her one pale, gaunt face suddenly had a beautiful rich color. “I meant to give the bracelet to my boss right when I found it. I forgot and took it home. The next day, I brought it back to her. But I again forgot and wore it home. So, I figured I would wear it around to see if it looked good on me.” The rosy color spread over the bridge of her nose and up to her forehead. “It does look nice on my wrist,” she said and held up her hand. The flash of gold was like a slice of the moon against her black coat sleeve. “Of course, I was to give it back. It’s not my fault that I forgot. Well, it was. But that didn’t mean everyone should’ve accused me of stealing it. I never meant to take it.” She looked out the window and chewed her lip.

“My boss said that she wouldn’t fire me if I told her I stole the bracelet. I said I didn’t steal it and that I couldn’t let her get away with accusing me,” Aunt Louise sniffled. “I was a little proud, but I had the right to be. She said I stole and that she didn’t trust me. I told her that if she didn’t trust me, then I couldn’t trust her.” Aunt Louise sipped the beer and shook her head.

It was dark and dingy with how the rainstorm hammered. The outside streetlights gleamed on the kitchen windows.

Talia watched everyone in the room at once but she kept special attention on Aunt Louise. She was so tall and straight in the chair. Her hair was long and honey colored, and her manner free and earnest, Talia thought, as she stared.

“I wish I could have some better news to tell you,” Aunt Louise went on. She clapped her hands and tried to brighten as well. Then, her expression fell. “Unfortunately, I’ve been having a bad time this past year. It’s been a bad many years, I think –”

“That’s alright, Louise,” Dad said. He gave her a gingersnap cookie from what they were to have for dessert later. “Perhaps we could talk privately before dinner?”

They went together down the hall to Dad’s den in the back. Talia stuck her neck out to watch them go but she got told to whip the potatoes. She did so. Her mom had been yelling at her too much and everything she tried her hardest at wasn’t ever done right. But she had to listen.

“Thank God something is going on around here,” she whispered as she stirred with her wooden spoon. “I feel like my brain is going to come out of my nose.” She looked around at them and shook her head.

She got told to stop talking, so she got thinking instead. There were many worries. That she didn’t belong in this family. How she would need to go as soon as she could. That everyone here was so slow and lame. That she had been left on the porch in a basket by a stranger and was taken in by this kind family, named ‘Talia’ and made to follow these stupid rules.

No other way made sense. Everyone was nice to her some of the time but they didn’t seem to like her much at all. Her dad was alright. At least he tried a little to understand her. But the rest mostly seemed annoyed by her and were always giving her a rough time for things that weren’t her fault. Either they were bothersome or they yelled because she’d done something stupid or wrong. Even Walt made fun of her now and he wasn’t old enough to understand why. He was only following along with the rest. Sometimes they said she was too mean and angry and that she needed to go somewhere and be alone until she was better. There was nothing worse than getting the silent treatment. All the while she wanted to ask what the big deal was. The more she thought on it, she looked a little like Aunt Louise. She liked cocoa and stealing too. Sometimes she drank a little beer if her dad had mistakenly left his bottle out on the coffee table.

Talia suddenly looked up from the potatoes and all around. Mom and Estelle were trimming the chicken with the serrated-cutters and Walt set the table in his rough, boyish way.

“I think you understand exactly what I mean,” Aunt Louise said from down the hall. They were coming back. “You always know what I mean.” Her tone was cheered. “It’s only a little sad, I think, that it should’ve taken this long for me to say so. But I’m happy that I did it on my own. I’m only tired and …”

“We’ll talk on it a bit more after dinner,” Dad whispered. “Don’t worry, Lulu. You just try to rest a little. We’re having dinner now, and we can talk more later.”

Aunt Louise walked straight through the kitchen and out to the back porch. She talked a little bit as she had her cigarette and they worked busily with their heads down. When Aunt Louise returned, she sat beside Dad at the table and they drank their beers.

“You must all listen to this,” she said brightly. “I was coming home to my apartment the other night and there was a big argument in the hall. I wasn’t in any good mood but –”

Dad quieted her down with one solemn look and several minutes passed in a dull, worrying silence as Mom hurried to get the dinner finished. Dad had his hand resting on Aunt Louise’s shoulder and then he stood to help Mom bring the dishes over to the table. He told Talia to get them all the apple juice. She jumped to do it. If they were going to say she wasn’t good and not let her stay up talking with Aunt Louise she would throw a fit.

“You all have a good heart inside of you,” Aunt Louise said. “Most people aren’t like this. I can’t believe I have at least you people to come see me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I had to spend another weekend in my drab little place … In my stupid town where nobody likes me. Without my friends and my job.” Aunt Louise sounded as if she was to cry.

Dad’s face turned dark and he gave her a long look before shaking his head and turning back to the dishes, spacing them neatly on the table. Sometimes he was still and trembled slightly with quiet anger or meanness. It was like he was having a fight within himself and everyone knew to leave him alone.

When they were all seated for dinner, and the prayers had been said, Aunt Louise said she was very hungry, so hungry she could eat a horse. But she ate very little of the chicken. She drank two glasses of beer. Her face was low, but sometimes she looked around and a flicker of laughter passed over her face. There wasn’t much of a dinner conversation so Talia picked a fight with Estelle about something that had happened in school and they argued until they got too loud and were told to shut up.

Aunt Louise winked at Mom and Dad. “How wonderful it is to hear their voices. You should let them fight as they want.”

“You’re not eating very much, Lulu,” Dad said.

“I’m much too sick to taste much of anything and … I’m sorry,” she said and struck the table with her palms. “This is all very nice but I must leave and go somewhere else.” She looked all around, as if ‘somewhere else,’ was in this very room. “I’m sorry, but nothing is right, and I am bothering you. I’m tremendously sorry.” She stood.

“You’re not bothering anyone, Lulu,” Dad told her. “Please sit down and finish dinner.” He waited. “Afterwards, we have those gingersnaps and oranges for dessert.”

“I have chocolate in my room,” Talia told her excitedly. “I have it hidden, so nobody could take it. But we can see –”

“No, I cannot have anymore of this,” Aunt Louise said proudly and pushed away her plate. “I thought I would have a good time at your house, but I must go back home where nobody wants me and I can sit by myself and not bother anyone.” She pressed her eyes with her shirtsleeve. “I don’t want you to be sad for me, but I cannot be here. It was all a big mistake.”

“We can go and talk a little bit more, Louise,” Dad said. “But first, please sit and eat your dinner.” He waited. “Even if you want to leave, it would be better if you ate before going.”

“I cannot eat. You were very nice to have invited me in without asking me any questions. I cannot believe it. Everywhere I go it seems people are asking me what I’m doing there. They don’t need to say anything.”

“Lulu …”

“They show me with their eyeballs. What are you doing here?, everyone is asking me, very directly, even if they’re too polite to say it openly. I never know what to do.” She sat back down and rested her head in her hands. “It makes me horribly ashamed just to go about like an ordinary person.” She stood with the glass of beer in her hand and strolled aimlessly about the room, though from one end to the other. “I must take many deep breaths only to do something small and stupid, like to go into a shop or to even walk down the street.”

“Please, won’t you sit down?” Dad asked. “Please …”

“I can’t,” Aunt Louise went on. “I feel like I try as hard as I possibly can but nothing will ever work. Every little entrance leads to a dead end, no matter what. I must be too sensitive.” She collapsed into her chair and took some chocolate balls from her pocket. They were small candies wrapped in tinsel. Aunt Louise unwrapped a chocolate ball and rolled it meditatively between her forefinger and thumb before she ate it. “I’ve been thinking about what I’ve done already and trying to figure what matters and what doesn’t. I think I can safely say I’ve never had any talent or luck and I deserve this all – my ears don’t even work and my nose is all blocked up – I always wished I could’ve learned how to speak French and go away to live there. That would’ve been exciting. Excuse me.”

She finished the glass of beer in one long gulp, sighed wearily, and left the table for the back porch. She smoked a cigarette and called hoarsely at them through the door.

“I cannot believe that you’re my family. I went around this morning smacking my head. I truly believe that I came here only to see if you were real or if I was dreaming on you. I know I try to be pleasant and optimistic but that’s foolish from my opinion. You must know that I’m lying every time I say such a thing. It’s not my fault that I lie. Because I truly believe I’m telling the truth and it’s only afterwards, when I’ve had some thinking on it, that I understand the whole of it was made-up.”

Aunt Louise came in with a chocolate ball stuck in the corner of her mouth and a somewhat better composition. She cleared her throat and sat back down.

“I’m so very sorry that I keep needing to get up to have a cigarette. It’s offensive,” she mumbled. “But I always need one when I’m out of sorts. It helps much more than anything.”

“It’s alright,” Dad said. “Just make sure you have a little of your chicken dinner.”

“I don’t want any.” She stood again, looked over them, and went into the hall. “I’m very sorry. All of you are so friendly, and I don’t deserve to be here. I must go. Thank you so much for the roasted chicken dinner.”

Dad stood up so fast that his chair almost fell over. They could hear them in the hall talking quietly but nobody knew what to do. They stared at their plates and ate as quietly as they could. Not even when Estelle wanted more biscuits did she dare to ask for them. Talia reached across and shoved the biscuits over. Estelle acted startled. Talia almost took the biscuits back.

“I was going to show Aunt Louise my shoebox,” Talia said after a while. Dad still wasn’t back and she was getting nervous about what was keeping him and Aunt Louise. She kept swiveling her head back to look, but her mom gave her a strict, no-nonsense look.

“Nobody wants to see your shoebox,” Walt told her.

“You wanted to. You begged me to show you everything in it.”

“Only because you were begging me to look with you. I didn’t care at all about your shoebox.”

When Dad came in, he sat down immediately at the table and resumed eating. He ate all of what was left on his plate, almost as if he were forcing it down his own throat, and he eyed more of what was left but he didn’t take it like he probably wanted to. Nobody else had eaten much because he always wanted more than just one serving. They knew to be quiet while he ate. Talia wanted to ask about Aunt Louise, but something told her not to.

“She’s asleep on the sofa in the den for now and everyone must leave her alone until tomorrow.” Dad looked around with his eyes pointed and direct. “Maybe she will go home afterwards or maybe she will stay for the weekend. But I couldn’t let her go home tonight,” he said to Mom. “It’s too late. She does have a bad cough …” his voice wavered.

“I will save a plate for when she gets up,” Mom said.

Dad passed to her Aunt Louise’s plate. Mom added more roasted chicken to it and then went to put it away in the cooler.

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Hunter Prichard is a writer from Portland, ME. His word has appeared in Hunger Mountain, Touchstone Literary Magazine, and Tampa Review.