Chapter 71: Ripples

May 27, 1981

I awoke to find blonde hair in my face. Stroking it, I watched my sister blink awake. “Morning, big brother!” She leaned in and we rubbed noses.

“Morning, little sister. Sleep well?”

“Wonderfully!”

“We should go for our run.”

“Spoilsport! But you’re right. I hate them, but I love the results.”

“Me, too.”

She headed to her room to get dressed, and I pulled on a ratty t-shirt and shorts, grabbed my Walkman, and met her at the door.

Angie looks much better in a ratty t-shirt and shorts than I do. I suppose girls might disagree, but, in this case, I respectfully consider them to be wrong.

We held hands briefly, then took off into the warm morning. The biggest disadvantage of sleeping late in the summer is the Houston heat, which was starting to impact our runs. I was thinking we might want to use the treadmills at the Y instead. But that would mean biking there even more times a week. There’s no way we could do Karate and use the treadmills in a single visit.

We headed straight to breakfast after getting home. Mom smiled from her seat at the kitchen table, where she was going over the grocery ads and building a shopping list. “Hi kids! I don’t know how you do it. Even at 9am it’s too hot out for me!”

Angie wiped her hand across her forehead. “I don’t either! I need a shower. Yuck! But, I’m too hungry. I’ll pass out if I don’t eat first.”

“I’m thinking maybe we need to go to the Y or something. Or get a decent stationary bike.”

Mom nodded. “Sam and I could use that, too. You know we’re even worse in the heat than you are. But where would we put it?”

I considered that. In the last go-round we’d had one that they bought around this time. It’d sat in what was now Angie’s room.

Angie bit her lip, thinking. “If we move the little bookshelf in the living room corner to be over in front of the window, it could go in that corner. The bookshelf would fit below the window. We don’t use that space except at Christmas for the tree, and it’s not in line with the front window, so people couldn’t look in and watch us exercise. At Christmas, I could put it in my room, maybe.”

“Nah, my bedroom’s bigger than Angie’s. I can put it in mine.”

“My closet’s bigger, though! Just the way it should be!”

Mom considered. I knew exactly what Angie meant. We used that space so little that I often forgot it was even there. Mentally, the living room started several feet over. “That would work, I think! I didn’t even think of that area. But then I guess I never do, otherwise it’d be full of my stuff. Let me talk to Sam. That might be a good idea for the whole family. We could sure use the exercise!”

I considered that. Mom and Dad had done well after I went off to college, and I thought the exercise bike, along with walking, was a big factor. Right now, they did neither. I was trying not to nudge very much, because they’d done well before, but hopefully little bits of extra healthiness would just improve matters.

Angie finished first and went off to shower. Mom smiled, ticking off items on her list. “Got any plans today?”

“Nope, wide open.”

“Well, I’m going to borrow your sister in a bit for the grocery run.”

“I’ll come along. I’m happy to help.”

She laughed. “I never would’ve expected it, but I suppose I should have. The world is so different! My brothers would’ve struggled to cook a can of beans!”

“There’s a good chance I’ll live by myself a while in college or after. People get married much later now. Well, not later than you and Dad.”

“I have no idea how that man survived all those years, Steve. He must have spent a fortune in diners. He couldn’t even grill burgers when we met!”

“You know, not right now, but when we move out and he retires, you should encourage him to learn to cook a bit. I think he’d enjoy it. He’d grumble jokingly, but I know Dad. He likes trying new things.”

She nodded, thoughtful. “You know, he does. And you’re right, I’d just hear the joking and him putting down his cooking skills and I’d stop trying. If I kept with it, he’d probably love it. And it’d be another thing we could do together. But, honey? I’m not ready to have an empty nest yet!”

“And we’re not ready to fly away, Mom. The day will come, and you and Dad will be fine. But not yet. We still need you.”

She shook her head. “Do you know how rare that is? I keep hearing from the other moms at church. Their kids are all champing at the bit to leave and chafing at any input from their parents. And you and Angie are so smart! I know you can manage things on your own.”

“We can, but that doesn’t mean we don’t love having you and Dad watching out for us. Particularly Angie. She’s never had a mom until now.”

“Well yes, she did, honey. She just didn’t see your Aunt Sharon very much. You know.”

I shook my head. “Angie had a mom — a real mom — as much as I did before you became my mom. You’re the only one she’s got. She only grudgingly acknowledges the ‘biological mother’ part of that relationship.”

“That’s sweet, honey. But you know Frank and Sharon stayed married until Angie was four or so.”

“Doesn’t matter. I know how little she contributed to the marriage or Angie.”

“Well, I’m glad to be there for her. Really glad. Sad about the reason, but glad we could be there.”

“Everyone is, mom. Sad about Uncle Frank, but glad that God turned sadness into joy.”

She smiled and sniffled. “Angie’s done. Go take your shower before you make me cry!”

We split up the grocery list and shopped our way through the Randalls. Mom got the produce — she wouldn’t trust either of us to pick, even though I knew I’d do fine. Angie? Pretty sure she’d have done fine, too. I had meats and cheeses; Angie had the first part of the aisles with the canned goods. We all came together halfway through the store and picked everything else up together, adding the occasional favorite.

That turned out to be interesting. Angie hadn’t mentioned that she wanted yogurt for the entire time she’d been with us; I hadn’t mentioned my desire for the occasional bagel. Mom was confused, but I passed it off as having tried them on the debate trip. I also added some things that would expand the flavor palette at the house a bit. Can you believe I grew up in Houston and didn’t try Mexican food until my junior year in high school? Me neither. Wasn’t going to happen this time around.

May 29, 1981

Angie was cuddled up to me, enjoying my hand gently stroking her back, arching and looking a bit like a happy cat.

“I’ve been thinking.”

I sniffed. “Nothing burning yet.”

Whap!

“Yeah, yeah, blonde thinking, I get it, har har.”

“I wasn’t going with the blonde thing at all, but that reminds me.”

“What?”

“Janet Collins.”

“OK, she’s blonde, I get that, but... ?”

“What does everyone think when they meet her?”

“That she’s an airh ... oh!”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Those blonde jokes could be an asset if you wanted them to be. You’re a gorgeous blonde. People underestimate gorgeous blondes, particularly if you give them a few breadcrumbs to follow. Not like Janet, she’s using the whole loaf. Or two. But you probably see where I’m going.”

“Somewhere sneaky. Which I approve of. Anyway, burning brain cells notwithstanding, I’ve been thinking. And I think what you said touches just a little on it.”

“Oh? Tell.”

“The debate thing. Look ... last time I struggled in high school. My first three years were uneven. I was too damn social and didn’t study enough. Daddy Frank wanted me to have good grades, and mostly I did, but I had party friends, not study friends who enjoyed a party occasionally. Then, at Memorial, what with coming in as a senior and not knowing anyone, I struggled a lot. I mean, I did OK, but it felt like I was getting smacked down every time I got going. So ... I was doing OK in Chicago, and then, smack, Daddy Frank died. Then I tried to get going at the other school and, smack, the FW reverted to type. Then I got down here and all that momentum was gone. I graduated with decent grades and tried UH. Crap happened and I neglected my classes. Smack! I tried again, stuff happened. I got a semester done with iffy grades. Money ran out even worse. I scraped some together and — smack! — the car broke. Or I got an abscess. Or, I broke my arm...” She turned red. “ ... um ... accidentally.”

Max, I know you didn’t do that this time, but go to hell anyway.

“Anyway, I just got used to being smacked down every time. Charlie Brown and the football, you know. I’d go for that football and every time fate would pull it away and I’d wind up on my ass hurting from the landing. And I mostly stomped down on that, this year, because I just did what I said I’d do and let you and our friends pull me along. But now, you’re encouraging me to stick my neck out. And you’re right to do that. Don’t get me wrong; I need to learn to do that again. But I think part of me is expecting to get slapped down as soon as I try, because that’s what’s happened to me over and over and over.”

“Damn, sis. You gave me all the pieces before, but you never put it together like that, and I sure didn’t. That just sucks. Anyone trying to smack you down would have to go through me. And Mom, and Dad.”

Angie scooted in just a hair more and hugged tight. “And you know that means the world to me. I’m, um ... obviously, I can’t explain all of this to Doctor Stanton. But I can, some of it. The stop and start with high school in Chicago, the way I felt just pulled along with the current this year, the fear that life will smack me. I wish I could say the rest, ‘cuz I think it’s bigger, but, yeah.”

“I hope she’ll help. It might sound like it’s not so big, because of how much you have to leave out, but I’d guess that’s a big chunk of her business. People with problems that are big to them but which other people wouldn’t see as big.”

“Just talking to you is helping.”

“Good.”

“Also, and not right now, but next week, we’re talking about the friend you said you weren’t ready to talk about.”

“I’m still not. But your pushing me is good. Fine, sis. We will.”

“Good boy.” She stretched, grinding her boobs in a bit. Of course, intentionally. “I’m gonna go sleep. Need to be sharp for Doctor Stanton.”

“Sweet dreams, little sis. Love you always.”

“You, too, big bro. It’s still special saying that a year later. Love you, forever.”

May 30, 1981

Dad decided the exercise bike plan was a good one, so here we were, at Oshman’s Sporting Goods, browsing the stationary bikes. I wanted one with an optional upper body workout. Having to do it sucked, since you could read without it, but not having it was more limited. We finally found a model that everyone could agree on.

It was a little frustrating. I knew much better ones would be available over the coming years. But you take what you can get.

Dad placed the order, and they promised to deliver it by Tuesday. Angie and I would handle clearing and moving the area.

9:00pm

“It helped, I’m pretty sure. She took me seriously, and we talked through it. She put it a different way.”

“What’d she say?”

“That it’s the difference between just following other people’s courses for me, which I do well — obviously there’s not an issue with study skills or grades. She’s glad about that. She said many people with these feelings will self-sabotage. Girls do that all the time. Avoid studying, bomb tests, ditch homework, stuff like that. Build themselves a nice little box inside which they’re helpless and dependent and need a guy to take care of them. ‘Cuz that’s easy.”

“Makes sense to me.”

“So, I’m not doing that, thank god. But now, you, and really, life, is asking me to say ‘This is what I want. Me. For myself. I want to do this, I want to go down this path.’ And my brain knows I can do it but, emotionally, I’m scared of getting stopped. But some of it, maybe, isn’t outside things, it’s just, worrying about not being up to it. Which is silly. But she says that, when you get smacked by fate, sometimes it gets in your head and you start thinking, subconsciously, ‘I couldn’t have done that anyway, so, I guess I’m lucky fate saved me from a dismal failure.’”

I gave her a tight hug. “You’ll kick ass at whatever you do, little sister. You know that my first time through wasn’t all roses. I’m scared of some things. But if I don’t get out there it’ll be the same, or worse.” I bit my lip for a second, pausing.

“What, big bro?”

“I think maybe you’ve seen the worst and best of me, that way. I can’t imagine being more social as a freshman than what I’ve done this year. More adventurous, more willing to try things and change who I am, chart a new course. Aside from it all working out, in retrospect it’s crazy how fast things went and how confident I’ve been. I mean, to some extent I can credit being fifty-six, but you know as well as I do that only goes so far. And then, flip it around. You’ve seen what I’ve never seen: the nadir of my social skills. Just hearing about that me gives me chills because I can see how I’d get there. And, I’d think I was happy while being there.”