Chapter 76: Everything Old Is New Again

June 23, 1981

We piled on the train just after 8. This time we just had coach seats. There was no point getting a room for the all-daytime run up to Chicago, and it saved a bunch of money. I was glad Amtrak still considered it all one trip, so we weren’t juggling all the luggage. Assuming they hadn’t shipped it to Atlanta, or Detroit, or wherever, of course. Sometimes they did that.

Angie and I held hands part of the way, then broke out the cards and played. Both of us watched out the windows a lot, cards or not. The Illinois scenery was both new and familiar, in a generic Midwestern farm-country way. Once we got tired of cards, we pulled out our Walkmen and just watched the scenery go by.

As we approached - then passed - noon, things started to urbanize. Passing trains became more common. We spotted tall buildings in the distance.

Our fingers entwined again as we drew closer to downtown. Homecoming for Angie, and a place that’d always been special for me.

I caught Mom looking back at us with a big smile on her face. I was pretty sure that she still had occasional concerns about our ‘behaving ourselves’, but all the same, she was very pleased that we’d knitted ourselves together tightly.

I don’t think she saw me notice.

Our luggage turned up in baggage claim. Dad negotiated with the rental car guy for the car he’d reserved — a big one. Had to be, with the four of us and our luggage. In another day and age, we’d have gotten a minivan or an SUV, but those didn’t exist, and the small cars of my other-life vacations wouldn’t hold one more person and a couple more bags.

We loaded the car and Dad got us out into the Chicago traffic. Several twists and turns later, Dad had the car heading north. Angie kept pointing at things. “The Art Institute! Grant Park! Navy Pier! Lincoln Park!”

Like any large city, Chicago isn’t just ‘Chicago’. If you’re telling someone from somewhere else where you’re from, sure. Or telling a friend where you’re going. But it can take a couple hours to get across town, and more if there’s traffic. Chicago is a collection of neighborhoods, districts, suburbs, and exurbs. We weren’t even staying in ‘Chicago,’ we were staying in Skokie. My dad, who was ‘from Chicago,’ had never lived in the city itself.

Since we’d gotten started around two, we avoided almost all the rush-hour traffic and made it to Skokie by a bit after three. Our rooms were ready — several doors down from each other, this time — and we got settled. Angie dug in her bag and pulled out a pink dress and fresh underwear, tossing clothes onto a chair, then dressing again. I shrugged, stripped, and changed too, into my burgundy button-down and black jeans.

Of course, I looked. Of course, she looked. We were behaving - not made of stone! And the part of me that was behaved itself after a brief mental scolding.

We headed off to join the parents and drive the short distance to Grandmother Marshall’s retirement home. The community had three tiers of living: small, detached cottages, apartments, and an infirmary for 24-hour care. She and Professor Berman lived in a cottage right now.

Angie and I hung back as Dad led the way. The door opened at the knock and Grandmother stepped into view. She was a tiny woman, likely under five feet. I knew she’d lost some height. She was a little unsteady, very thin, and showing her eighty years. She still had her hair, and I knew she’d still be sharp mentally for years to come. Her dress was elegant, old, and hung on her from the size she’d lost.

“Samuel! It’s so, so nice to see you!” He got a quick hug. “And Helen!” Another hug. “Stop hiding back there, Angela! My goodness, you look so much more grown up!” Angie met her in a hug. “And Steven! My, you look handsome, young man. It’s been a year and a half? I barely recognize you!” I gave her a hug. She was old and frail, but smiling.

“Come in! Come in! I wish I had some tea to offer! Allan is off at his exercise class.” That explained his absence. I was glad nothing had happened.

I also noticed she was limping, or hobbling, or noticeably unsteady as she walked. In her heels. Old, worn heels. A lightbulb went off, and I hung back, catching Mom. “Mom!” I whispered.

“Honey? What is it?”

“When you get a chance, watch Grandmother’s feet. How she’s walking, and her shoes.”

Mom turned and looked. “What on earth? I’ll check with Sam and see if we can figure out why she’s hobbling like that.” I already knew, I just couldn’t let on.

Grandmother sat in her big chair, Mom and Dad took the couch, and Angie and I sat on the floor. “So, Sam, I would normally catch up with you, but I have to ask my favorite granddaughter — how are you, Angela, honey?”

Angie smiled. “I can’t even tell you how much better I am than the last time I saw you, Grandmother. I still miss Daddy Frank...”

“God rest his soul,” Grandmother spoke softly.

“And I always will, but Dad and Mom and Steve are just the best, and I couldn’t be happier.”

“God moves in mysterious ways,” Grandmother smiled softly. “I don’t know why he choose to take my Frank so early, like he took my Alton, but then he delivered you to my Samuel and Helen and Steven and them to you. Sam’s said you’ve been doing well, but I wanted to see for myself.”

“I’m doing much better, Grandmother. I have a bunch of very good friends, Steve has been incredible — I mean, well, I didn’t know what it’d be like to have a brother, well, or a real mother, but at least there I could guess — and whatever I thought it’d be like, it’s so much better.”

“And your grades, honey?”

“Straight A’s!”

“That’s wonderful. Just wonderful. I’m sure Frank is smiling down upon you. And Steven? How about you?”

“It’s the way Angie said, Grandmother. I didn’t know what it’d be like to have a sister. All our friends say we’re strange because we almost never disagree, and when we do, it’s over what’s best for each other, not trying to get an advantage for ourselves.”

“How are your studies?”

“Straight A’s, too. We have mostly the same classes and we study with the same group of friends.”

“Wonderful! You seem much less shy this time. Angela does, too, but of course she had every reason to be shy the last time I saw her. I couldn’t be happier for you! Helen, how have you been?”

Angie and I just watched the conversation unfold from there, smiling. Grandmother was alert and alive in a way that I couldn’t remember very well. Prior to Frank’s death, I was just too young to involve myself with this very old woman I saw for a few hours a year. And, in the other go-round, Frank’s death had hit her hard. She was never the same after it. It seemed like, perhaps, Angie’s fate changing had given her some solace that helped her through the loss of her youngest child.

After talking for perhaps half an hour, the door opened. “Well, hello! I see my son-in-law and his family are here! Hello!”

Dad rose, offered his hand. “Hello, Professor Berman.”

“Nonsense! Allan! I’m not lording it over my class, and you’re not a timid first-year!”

Mom rose too, so Angie and I did as well.

“Hello, Allan.”

“Hello, Grandfather.”

“Hi, Grandfather!”

To no one’s surprise, he focused on Angie. “Angie! How are you? I have missed you! You look like you must be doing better!”

She went over and hugged him. “Much better, Grandfather. Much, much better. I love being part of my new family!”

“That’s wonderful news! Even your brother? Brothers can be a trial! I should know! I have four of them!”

She laughed. “Steve is wonderful. I think my heart would explode if there were four of him!”

He turned to me. “Keep treating her that way, young man. You’re a sharp one, but she’s my only granddaughter!”

I laughed. “I love my sister, Grandfather. I’m happy to keep that up.”

Angie grinned. “Grandfather! I have to tell you. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet — of course, I’ve got years yet — but I’m starting to consider a career in the law.”

He beamed. “I told you all along that you should. You are surely smart enough for it!”

“Steve is doing debate, and he says a lot of kids in debate go on to law school.”

“They do! Some of them even learned something from it!” He turned back to me. “This is new. I remember you being all about mathematics, young man.”

“Yes, Sir,” I nodded. “I was. But over the summer, a few things happened — Angie being one of them — and I realized I needed to find ways of being around more people and building friendships and being part of a team, and doing that, combined with a chance at public speaking skills that many people don’t ever get? Plus, other things that appeal to me — research, libraries, things like that. I decided I should give it a try.”

“I heard you made it to your state tournament as a freshman, so I’d say it was a good idea! You know there’s an excellent program at Northwestern? And a comprehensive summer program for several disciplines including debate?”

“I do, Sir. I’ve considered it.”

“It would be wonderful if that works out for you. And for Angie! If your grades stay as they are, you could go anywhere! Well, I should talk to your parents. Thank you for humoring an old educator!”

He headed off and sat in the chair close by Grandmother. I sat back next to Angie, and her fingers found mine. I saw the smile light up Grandmother’s face, even while in deep conversation with Dad.

After a bit, Mom leaned over. “If you two want to go walk around a bit, go! They’ll gab for a couple hours and you won’t miss anything.”

I looked at Angie; she nodded. We hopped up and smiled. “We’re going to go take a walk, Grandmother, Grandfather,” Angie said, giving them a little wave. “We’ll see you in a bit.”

We walked out and started a slow stroll around the cottages, waving to various other residents.

“Grandmother’s doing well!” Angie said. “She was so sad when Frank passed away. I mean, of course she would be. Her youngest child. And then finding out about how I was doing, courtesy of the FW. Of course it had her upset and worried.”

I nodded. “In my first time, that never changed. She never rebounded from Frank’s passing.”

“Makes sense. I was always around, and not doing well, so I was a constant reminder of what was gone.”

“The Professor is much more ... outgoing ... than I remember.”

“Maybe it’s because she’s doing better?”

“Maybe so. I remember him as more quiet and reserved.”

“I think that was his teaching personality. He’s let it slip now that he’s retired.”

“I can see that, yeah.”

“Steve, what was that with Mom? When we came in?”