Crazy, Stupid, You & Me ✖ hood au

➊ Welcome to Percival Shores

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Red wine.

It was everywhere. The beautiful, deep red substance was splattered against the cream-colored walls and across the hard wood floors. The dark brown bottle in which the wine was in, had shattered and its several pieces sprinkled the area. Between my loud gasp, my mother's shriek, and the chaotically placed moving boxes, the jolting atmosphere resulted in tears. And they weren't tears from mine or my mother's eyes mind you - they were shocked-laced beads trickling from the bright, almond shaped green eyes of my little brother.

"Frankie, sweetheart, don't be alarmed," my mother cooed, picking up the 11-year-old in her arms.

Now, I know what you're thinking: how peculiar? And for the most part, it is. This family runs on oddities and thanks to my overly eccentric mother with her holistic views on medicine, organic foods, and hundreds of bangles, we the Kirby's are nothing short of weird.

"You are my muse, my angel," mother continued, quickly sweeping Frankie towards the family room where the only thing set up was our ancient sound system a.k.a. the record player. "Aurora, can you please fetch me--"

"UB40?" I finished with a grin, already standing before a blue crate of vinyls.

"You know me too well baby girl," mom shot me a wink as I bent down to grab the very-loved vinyl this family knew all too well.

Carefully, I placed the over-sized disk into the wooden record player and moved the needle. Once on, and the volume on full blast, the scratchy welcoming notes filled our ears. UB40's soothing vocals echoed throughout the sun-kissed home and together, with the two people I loved the most, we danced.

"Red, red wine. Goes to my head..."

Just as easy as the tears began, they stopped, and my brother was giggling at full force. My mother placed him back down on the ground, swinging him as the three of us jumped around the empty living room. We sang loudly, pretending we were in a music video.

"Maybe we should keep everything in the boxes," I joked, spinning carelessly with my arms wide open.

"You would like that," mom laughed, "but this house will be a home once we've unpacked."

"We've unpacked all the essentials: the record player, your paints, my notebooks, and Frankie's baby grand," I flicked out a finger at each point, "can we call it a day and unpack the rest tomorrow? I wanna go to the beach."

"Beach! Beach!" Frankie screamed excitedly, jumping up and down, "I wanna go to the beach!"

"Two against one," I shot my mom a snarky grin, to which she responded with a playful eye roll.

"Fine, fine," she sighed, "you two can go to the beach."

"Don't you want to come," I pouted.

"As much as I'd like to find sand in all my pockets for the next few days, I will pass," mom sauntered across the room to the blank wall space opposite of the family room windows. "I want to start on my mural."

"As you wish," I threw my hands up in defeat.

"As you wish," Frankie mimicked, and I giggled at the cuteness.

"Shall we find your swimming trunks and toys?" I held out my hand for Frankie to hold.

"Yea!" He screamed happily, taking my hand in glee.

The two of us, hand in hand, ascended the staircase. From the top landing on the left was Frankie's room, and right across was mine. We separated, going into our respective rooms to gather our things. In my vacant room, boxes still sat untouched against the wall. Only my bed, desk, and a full length mirror embellished the room.