#sean fitzpatrick

Even in times of stress and tragedy, the Fitzpatricks always managed to have their Sunday feasts without issue — just a hell of a lot more praying. This particular one was bittersweet: James was in the hospital, the outlook on his recovery still foggy with a long road of uncertainty ahead, but Owen was back in town with the newest addition of the family in tow. Ma and Aunt Erin had been keeping themselves occupied with the baby since dinner had ended, a glass of wine in their hand as they coo’d and laughed. Honestly, it was the happiest he’d seen his mother since he’d been home, but Owen supposed that was the good thing about having a family like theirs — everyone was so damn loud, it didn’t leave room for many negative emotions to surface.

“Jesus Christ, Aunt Erin’s singing has definitely not gotten better over the years,” he commented, passing his cousin a beer before sitting beside them on the couch. A football game was playing on the television, with some of the uncles tuning in and out as they digested the potato casserole that had been gone within minutes of being served. Taking a sip from his own beverage, Owen tossed a glance toward his mother and aunt before resting back into the couch. “I mean, God bless her, but it’s like listenin’ to nails on a chalkboard. Thank god she never wanted to join the church choir — can you fucking imagine sittin’ through that?”