Chapter 12: Schedules

Sunday, August 19, 1984

We all went to a late brunch at The Kettle. Part of the ‘late’ was that the Rileys found a local church to visit (I suspect with Mark and Morty rather unhappy about it). It amused me that Dad and Mom didn’t go to the Lutheran church — didn’t even mention it, in fact. In my first life, they’d found a Lutheran church in Austin and made sure I was on the mailing list. I knew there was one here — one they would approve of — but, nothing.

Oh, they hadn’t given up on us. They’d simply accepted that Angie and I would live our lives our way — and that our decisions had been good thus far.

Since many others also went to The Kettle right after church, we had a long wait to get seated. On the plus side, that gave us plenty of time to talk. All of it was good, fortunately — even things involving the Rileys. For all that they clearly were displeased with how things had gone, it was a quiet protest, nothing like the way the Clarkes had reacted, nor Ted, nor even Andrew (whose issue was with something else, of course).

I felt like the parents — all of them, even (if reluctantly) the Rileys — wound up feeling happy with where their kids would be living. Oh, perhaps the Rileys might have wanted Mel in a dorm with some other roommate. What were the odds that she wouldn’t simply sleep over with Cammie nearly every night anyway, though? And what effect would that have on her grades? Excluding Cammie (in their view, anyway), we’d all clearly been a great influence on Mel for the last four years.

As for Mom and Dad, I couldn’t find the slightest sign that they were treating Paige any differently from Jasmine. Each of them was the girlfriend of one of their children, and that made them equally as much a part of the family.

Well, as much as a solid, established, but not yet betrothed girlfriend could be. Rings and ceremonies would matter, but they trusted our judgment.

Obviously, so did Camille and Francis (they had for a long time), and Tony and Jean as well.

Honestly, I pretty much had everything I could reasonably have asked for at this point in my life. So did Angie, and Jas and Paige as well. Not so much Cammie or Mel, but both of them had more in their lives than they might have expected.

Considerably more.

It was on that note that we parted. Mom and Dad led the exodus, saying (perfectly fairly) that they needed to get home in time to have dinner and get to bed, given Dad’s work schedule.

Hugs and handshakes and all of the other elements of goodbyes take quite a while when this many people are involved, but we managed to get them on the road by two-thirty. Not bad, considering.

Departures were also slightly delayed by one more surprise present. The Seilers presented Paige with a mid-sized color TV. It was a moderately expensive gift, and one that I imagined we’d use quite a bit (though hopefully not too much). Paige thanked them, of course, and so did the rest of us.

Before Dad left, he pulled me aside and said, “This really is amazing, Steve.”

“Thanks!”

He gave me a look. “Please tell me that you still have most of the accident money. And that Angie still has most of Frank’s money.”

I smiled.

“We do, both of us. We know you’d be concerned — rightly so! — if we spent those windfalls on having a cushy life as freshmen. My car has some accident money in it, and I’ve spent a bit more, but I’m fine. I’ve also invested some of it. As you know, we’ve both wanted to start investing...”

He smiled at that. He definitely knew that about both of us. He didn’t know how much of an investment either of us had, nor in what.

Obviously, Dell was the big play right now, but that wasn’t actually ‘accident money.’ The stocks we had would pay off well, and Angie was in ‘early,’ at least, with Berkshire Hathaway. Not ‘plow all the money in at fourteen’ early (and how, exactly, would we have done that?), but I doubted any other eighteen-year-old from a middle-class family held as much Berkshire Hathaway as Angie did.

“ ... and Angie has a new bed and a few other things...”

He nodded at that, too. How else could we possibly explain Angie and Paige’s bed? Accident money, I suppose. If Angie hadn’t paid for it, I must have, logically.

“ ... but we’re in very good shape. Our scholarship housing allowance pays as much as the rent on the house...”

Of course, since we set the rent.

“ ... and we have a reasonable stipend for food. We’ll still lean on you and Mom for a bit of money now and then...”

He chuckled at that, nodding.

“But ... we’re good, and we’re good without foolish spending.”

“Good,” he said, hugging me.

Then he offered his hand, and I shook it.

“I was nearly certain of that,” he said, nodding. “Still ... this is quite the house. You’ve worked something of a miracle here. Considering everything else the two of you have accomplished, I’m not surprised, but I do want to keep an eye on things. You know...”

He stopped there.

I nodded, and said, “I know, Dad. The money ran out for you, and ... I really am sorry.”

He nodded, slowly.

“You’re going to say there’s a ‘but,’ right?” he said.

I nodded right back.

“And you’re right,” he said. “It took me a long time to see that, and I might never have if not for you and Angie. Angie ... she’s almost a direct parallel, in a way. It’s almost scary. I lose my father, and out of that comes Helen, and you, and then Angie. I would never have known Helen or you without losing my father in the way that I did, and most likely wouldn’t have known Angie well at all. She’d have gone to Richard.”

I nodded again.

“Then, Frank passes away unexpectedly, and Angie’s ... mother ... turns out to be unfit. Two terrible things that result in Angie being with us, and no one in the world could look at how things have turned out and say that was a bad thing.”

“It was a great thing,” I said. “Angie would be the first to agree.”

He sighed, and I hugged him again, tightly.

“It doesn’t make either thing right,” I said. “Oh, I can say that ‘God works in mysterious ways,’ and I can honestly tell you that I believe that He does, in fact, work in mysterious ways. Highly mysterious. But that’s not an answer, other than perhaps it’s not for us to say what is ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ in things like this. Your father died, and that’s terrible. It’ll always be terrible. Frank died, and that’s terrible, too. Angie will always miss him. But, if your father and Frank can look down on us and see what’s happened, I know they must be smiling.”

This time Dad hugged me.

“That ... that means a lot, son. It really does!”

“I wish I could have met your father, but I can’t. I wish I could’ve known Frank through halfway adult eyes, but I can’t. That said, I know how I would feel in that situation, if I could know that my children went on without me and found love and happiness and success.”

If it wasn’t for the emotion of this conversation, I’d have been in trouble. I would likely never know how my children fared as their lives went on. Perhaps Dad’s father and Frank never would know, either, of course, but it was personal for me, as a here-and-now thing. Dad couldn’t know — now, and perhaps ever — just how personal it was, though.

Still, I avoided more than a bit of tearing up, which was good.

He sighed, then smiled.

“This veered far off the subject we started with.”

“Did it?” I said. “You’re still watching out for us, and that’s really the message. You’d hate it if, four years from now, we left college poor and struggling to make ends meet, when we left high school very well off for eighteen-year-olds, with an enviable starting position to build on.”

“That’s ... yes,” he said, smiling. “That’s pretty much it. I want you to have a great life in college, but it’s not your life. I made that mistake. When I had to leave, it felt like my life was over, but it had really barely even started.”

“We’ll take good care of our assets, don’t worry. I’ll bet that we’ll surprise you with how well we’ve managed them by the time we graduate.”

He grinned. “Good! I’ll be very happy for you if you win that bet, son. Also — and not just because I know you will whatever I say — please pass this along to Jasmine. And Angie. And, of course, Angie should pass it along to Paige. I love all four of you. They feel like daughters-in-law — perhaps more than they should, by the teachings about marriage, but that doesn’t matter. Let them know both of us worry about them, too. We hope it’s an appropriate level of worry.”

“I’ll do just that. We expect you to worry. Camille and Francis, too, of course. We’ve got mistakes to make, but we’ll try to make them funny ones, not bad ones.”

“You’re batting a thousand on that right now,” he said, chuckling.

“I love you, Dad.”

“And I love you, son.”

“What you said goes the other way. Obviously, you’ll share this with Mom. Tell her we love her and we love that she’ll worry. Also, that we’ll do everything we can to make her both happy and proud.”

He smiled widely.

“I’ll do that, of course.”

We shook hands once more, and then he headed to the car. Mom was watching, and I was certain she knew at least the outlines of what we’d talked about — including that Dad had been reassured we weren’t being crazy with our windfalls.

Had they known we owned the house, all that would be for naught. Still, my guess was that, by 1988, the house would’ve gained significant value (even in the face of a coming downturn in Texas real estate — near-campus properties in College Station were fairly immune to that) and we’d still ‘win.’

The goal was for us all to win, of course. Even the ones (like the Rileys) who couldn’t help but think they’d lost.

The eight of us (Mark and Morty were waiting here for Emily to pick them up) watched them get in their cars and take off.

When the last car had turned the corner, Cammie said, “I’m glad I like your parents. All of them. Even yours, Mel.”

Mel chuckled and hugged her.

“Your aunt and uncle help,” Mel said.