Chapter 55: A New Normal

March 19, 1981

Angie and I were again holding hands in the back seat as we headed to Doctor Reynolds’ office. Mom was smiling in the review mirror. Things were quickly becoming a new normal.

Angie stretched a little. “Mom?”

“Yes, honey?”

“I really like Doctor Stanton.”

I guess she’d decided that, since we were on the way to one doctor, perhaps it was a good time to plan a visit to another. It really was the first good opportunity since Angie and I had talked about expanding our visits to Dr. Stanton.

“Me, too. She’s very good. I’m sure she’s helping Candice.”

“Yeah. Um ... I’ve been thinking.”

“Is something wrong, honey?”

“Um ... you remember how things happened right before I moved here?”

“Yes, of course. Are you saying you’d like to talk with Doctor Stanton about that?”

“I think so. I have some real anger towards ... well, you know who it’s towards.”

“I do. If it’s bothering you, honey, of course we can do that. I’m sure Sam can figure out what needs to happen to get it paid for, since it’ll be our case then.”

“I’d like that.”

I jumped in. “I like Doctor Stanton, too. I don’t have any real issues - not even the amnesia, anymore - but, of course, I’ll be happy to speak to her if it’ll help Angie. Or Candice.”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate that. Thank you for telling me, honey. Um ... can I be indelicate?”

“Steve has probably heard it.”

“You two do talk a lot, and you know that I think that’s good. Anyway, could any of your issues with that Max character be related to feeling angry?”

“Maybe. Honestly, maybe. I can see some things that might be involved.”

“Well, then. Not that I want to tell you who to date or anything, but, sometimes I want to tell you who you shouldn’t, and he’s one of them.”

“I know, Mom. Everyone told me. I think it’s, um ... sometimes I can get angry, and that makes me not listen. And the thing is, getting really, really angry saved my life, and it’s why I’m here and happy. Really, really happy, most of the time. You know I wish Daddy Frank was alive, but I love you and Dad and Steve so much, it’d tear my heart up if he was and I had to choose. But anyway, it worked then. It got me out of a bad place. But this time it worked against me.”

Mom looked back, just briefly. “That’s ... well ... not all of what you said, but in there, it was very sweet. All we ever wanted was to love you and give you a happy home. We know you went through a lot. If we can help, we’ll do everything we can.”

“You’ve already done so much, Mom. I never had a Mom. I like having one. A lot.”

“Honey, I love you, and thank you, but you’re going to have to stop or I won’t be able to see to drive the car.”

“Aww, Mom!” Angie was sniffling too.

Dr. Reynolds was prompt as usual. I had vivid memories of excruciatingly long waits on my visits after the concussion in elementary school. I doffed my shirt, the assistant applied the leads, Dr. Reynolds started the machine, and I drifted, trying to not think about anything important.

She fetched the roll and headed off to her office, returning in about fifteen minutes. “Well, everything continues to progress as I’d hope. I’d say the rate has tapered off, but then last time it’d sped up. Unless something happens, I’d say we’ll see you ... April fifteenth ... unless there’s some issue or incident.”

“Thanks, Dr. Reynolds,” I said. “As much as I like you, it’ll be good to go back to being my normal self, however abnormal that might be.”

She laughed. “I like you too, Steve. Thanks for the compliment. And I’d say you’re well on your way.”

March 20, 1981

We went out — for Italian, Angie’s choice — to celebrate a couple of significant dates. The timing couldn’t have been better; had this been just a week earlier, the mood for this meal would have been totally different. On March 20, 1980, Angie had arrived from Chicago, a scared, scarred girl desperate for a home and stability, to live with an aunt and uncle she barely knew, a cousin she knew even less, in a city she’d never been. Well, as far as any of us knew, anyway. She’d left almost everything behind except a few suitcases and a couple boxes. Considerably more waited in storage in Chicago.

Dad raised a glass after we’d ordered and drinks had been served. “A year ago, today, Angie arrived home for the first time. Just a couple days before, we were all sitting in a courtroom in Chicago, waiting nervously for Judge Ellis to render her decision. We didn’t know Angie very well, and she knew us perhaps even less. Out of that, out of her decision to grant both Angie and us what we all wanted, look how far we’ve come! It’s amazing, and wonderful.”

Angie blushed and smiled. “It is, Dad. Just being able to have a Dad, and a Mom, and a brother, is amazing. I love you all very much.”

“And we all love you!” we all echoed, pretty much together, Mom leading the way.

The change was incredible. All four of us cried at times. And I thanked God, or fate, or whatever that this anniversary fell after Hurricane Angie had blown out and we’d found closeness again, and that Angie had slipped up and used a few phrases that let us build a profoundly closer bond.

By now my memories of that day were stable enough that I was fine, but I still had that nagging sense of there being two extremely different versions of March 20, 1980. I was pretty sure I always would. Fortunately, the best one had won out.

March 21, 1981

The ride to Dr. Stanton’s was ever so much better than last time. Angie and I held hands and Mom was upbeat. Dr. Stanton would pick up the change in attitude instantly. Holding hands was a dead giveaway.

We arrived a bit early so that Mom could ask the receptionist if we could look into scheduling a visit for Angie. She provided our insurance information and they scheduled visits pending Dr. Stanton’s review. Since they knew us, it seemed likely to be fine. We scheduled four visits for Angie and two for me over the first two months of this being our therapy. Once the previous patient came out, the receptionist picked up the phone, I think going over Angie’s appointments.

Dr. Stanton again reversed the order and called me first. “Steve, come in.”

I followed her back and sat in ‘my’ chair, and she sat in hers.

“So, I understand your sister wants to take our relationship to the next level.”

I laughed. “Yes, Doctor Stanton. She’s feeling some anger issues towards her ... biological mother.”

“It’s a touchy subject, isn’t it? I can hear it in the way you phrase it.”

“We haven’t found the right words.”

“For Angie’s biological mother?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Angie is pretty adamant that she does not deserve the term ‘mother’. She will sometimes use Sharon. I think I need to let her tell you any other terms that might apply.”

“Which tells me there are other terms. Angry terms?”

“I think that’s very clearly a ‘yes’.”

“How do you feel?”

“I’ve never met Sharon and I have no desire to, but if I had to, I would be hard-pressed not to spit in her face for what she did to my little sister.”

“Even though she wasn’t your little sister when those things happened? And even though she is here because of them?”

“The first of those is irrelevant. She hurt Angie, period, and that’s enough there. And the second ... no. It worked out for the best, but that’s not because she meant it to, it’s despite that. So, no points there.”

She laughed and started making notes. “How’s the debate going?”

“I nearly qualified for State at one tournament, and I’ve had good rounds at each tournament. Some very good ones. But that state qual remains elusive. Of course, I’ve had six fewer tournaments than most everyone who’s qualified. I’ve got one more chance and, as has been pointed out, technically I have twice the chance of qualifying there. But it will be against other debaters who’re desperate. However, State wasn’t my goal, it’s a bonus. Overall, I’d have been happy to not embarrass myself and I’ve overachieved there.”

“You’re going back for debate next year?”

“Right now, I’m planning on all four years.”

“I wish you all the best. Back to Angie’s ... situation. Do you think she has serious anger issues?”

“It depends on what you mean by serious. Is she going to do something like Candice? I don’t see it, but I didn’t see it in Candice, so I’m not a judge. But I don’t think so. Is she going to stow away to Chicago, track down Sharon, and exact revenge? I greatly doubt it. But does it make her make bad choices? I think it does, on occasion. She can tell you more, but you know about her boyfriend situation. And, since she and I are talking again, you know it’s resolved. That’s a joke, a bit; we were never not talking, though occasionally the talking was very forced. Sometimes the words weren’t as nice as I’d like. Anyway, I don’t see the situation itself as related. That’s something else that she’d have to explain. But the way she handled it was full of anger, and I am suspicious it was outbursts of the anger she’s carrying.”