So many 25ths of December, just as many 4th of Julys, and we're still holding it together. (Celine Dion)

In September, Rider went and pulled their drug dump out of its emergency grave.

By the end of October, it had all dwindled through the dorms of UCLA, bars on the sunset strip, bums on the Southside of the Venice Boardwalk, pimps in Long Beach, and everywhere in between.

In November, Rider came home for Thanksgiving and brought his girlfriend of the week just so he had enough luggage space to store all the cash. Tommy gave him back a generous portion for his troubles and they put the rest in the panic room.

In December, within one week of each other, Senior and Tony were both released from prison early on account of good behaviour.

On Christmas Day, the family was together, doing what they did best: drugs, drinks, and fights. Now Tony and Rider both had girlfriends. Tony had met his at a local strip club after his post-jail resolution to go out more came into effect. Rider’s was the twin sister of Tony’s girlfriend. The relationship had an expiry date. It would spoil on January 1^st when Rider would return to his new home.

The gifts were opened and everyone was sprawled out: full of turkey and heroin. Then it was time for the best gift: me.

Just before midnight on Christmas Day I came into this world of magic and mischief, greeted by an ex-made man/snitch, a future rocket scientist/current heroin addict, a strung out uncle on patrol and heroin, a pair of matching strippers, a father who hadn’t slept since December 18^th and hadn’t been properly sober since November 18^th, and a mother who loved them all.

In January, the phone rang. Vincent had committed suicide.

Penny cried. Tommy cried. Tony sobbed. Senior sighed. Rider asked why. I did nothing because I was a baby. I had never met Vincent, though I would hear stories about him for the rest of my life.