Variation on a Theme, Book 6
Copyright© 2024 by Grey Wolf
Chapter 162: Natural Wonders
Monday, June 30, 1986
Today was one of those classic ‘Marshall family trip’ days, where we largely ignored the extended family and toured some Chicago landmark instead. Today’s choice was the Brookfield Zoo. Jas, Angie, Paige, and I had previously been there in the summer of 1983, along with Laura. And Cammie, who had sneakily overheard quite a bit of our conversation. It worked out well, thankfully.
To the best of my knowledge, I had never been here with Mom and Dad. Not in my first life, not in this one, not at all. Perhaps I had when I had been very young, but I didn’t remember anything of the sort.
It was quite a bit of fun. Mom and Dad didn’t go to zoos much and kept finding animals they felt certain they had never seen before. My ex-wife, on the other hand, had loved zoos. I knew quite a lot about animals thanks to her commentary over the years.
The four of us were a happy medium, neither obsessive nor dismissive. I could easily see us all visiting Animal Kingdom at Disney World in a decade or so. They would love it, and I would love going there again. For the first time.
I couldn’t mention that in front of Mom and Dad, of course. Disney hadn’t announced Animal Kingdom yet, and I doubted it was more than an idea thus far. And the Animal Kingdom of the late 1990s would be considerably different from the one I remembered from the 2010s.
When we went, we would probably be VIPs, traveling with a tour guide and at least somewhat protected from the crowds. Days like today, where we were just an anonymous middle-class family touring the zoo, were on their way out.
I wondered what Aunt Helen would think of all of this. Someone, or Something, had decided Angie and I were worthy of a second chance. What would that mean to her? Would she think we had been set up by Satan, perhaps? I couldn’t see her crediting the idea that God had favored the two of us with special treatment.
Satan’s help (if there was a Satan) was not impossible, of course. We had no idea why we were here. It could all be some foul plot, and we could be clueless dupes dancing on the strings of an evil puppet master.
None of us believed that, but belief was, in this case, meaningless. We were here, which meant there was some force that had brought us here. Since we knew nothing about it, it could be anything, and that included its being something bad.
Perhaps Angie and I — and maybe the entire human race around us — were in our own zoo, an exhibit for some vastly more powerful species who watched our antics for entertainment. That would work as well as any other explanation.
If so, I hoped we were pretty entertaining. It would suck if our existence were based on being entertaining and, not being entertaining, we faced cancellation.
We again went out for dim sum in Chinatown. After six years, it was just something we did, not anything special. Mom chuckled about having had no idea what she was getting into all of those years ago, but she had clearly learned. She still let Angie and me order, but she knew what the options were and which things she preferred.
Tomorrow would be brunch with Grandmother and Allan, after which we would hit the road. This time, we were reversing the order of the next part of the trip. We would spend two nights at Andrew and Millie’s. After that, we would head to Stevens Point on Thursday, with the family reunion set for Friday, July 4th. Saturday would be the return to Chicago and our flight back to Houston.
After that, we had a week to get back to College Station, since we had to be there on the 14th to register for summer school. We would certainly be back sooner than that. Then, on Wednesday the 16th, we would fly out to California for Lizzie and Janet’s wedding. The plan was to be back for classes on Monday, the 21st.
Tuesday, July 1, 1986
We had an interesting lunch with Grandmother and Allan at the retirement community’s cafeteria. It was interesting largely because word had gotten out about their grandchildren (and fiancées) appearing on ‘60 Minutes’. We were instant celebrities. Well over a dozen people came by to wish us well. There were also a few who stared at us, likely not as happy with what we had said as the others seemed to be.
They, of course, had every right to their opinion. Just as we did.
Every meal with Grandmother and Allan was a reminder that there would be only so many more of these. They were old and frail, but not yet fragile, and that was more than enough for today. All of us were better off for having known them so well this time.
After we parted with Grandmother and Allan, we made the now-obligatory stop at the Baha’i Temple. Paige herself remarked on the irony of saying she would riot if we skipped it, saying, “It makes no sense to say I would react violently if we missed a place of great peace. But ... I would be highly disappointed.”
Everyone laughed at that, and Dad assured her we’d had no plan of skipping the temple. She knew that, but enjoyed complaining about it even so.
They were on our list of organizations we might support in the future. No large donations, but they did good in the world, and we wanted to encourage that as much as we could.
The drive up to Andrew and Millie’s was long but generally uneventful. We had lunch at a sandwich shop in Milwaukee that Dad remembered from business trips decades ago. Everyone, including Dad, agreed it was ‘pretty good.’ Not great, but we would eat here again if we hadn’t found another place we wanted to try.
There were AAA guidebooks and the like, but we mostly didn’t bring those for places like Milwaukee. Maybe we should, in the future. It would be decades before cell phones and Yelp took over the job of finding restaurants, after all.
We arrived at Andrew and Millie’s house in the late afternoon. The sun was behind the tops of the tall trees to the west, and long shadows dominated everything. Still, there was plenty of light to get settled. The four of us strained the little cabin’s space, but we were used to that.
Like everything else, this might change in a few years. We loved visiting Andrew and Millie’s, and they loved having us, but would we really settle down in this small cabin when we were twenty-five? Thirty? If we had kids of our own? If we were multi-millionaires?
There was little lodging near their house, and it was decades before Airbnb would have turned some of these lakefront houses into rentals. Still, there would likely be something available.
As with everything else, though, the clock was running. It was a good thing that it was still running, though, all things considered. We knew each other as the people we actually were. I hated to think our having money would change them, but it might.
The bigger worry was whether it would change Aunt Helen. Or Uncle Tim. Or Uncle Ryan and Aunt Colleen, or ... anyone else. I didn’t worry so much about cousins Kenneth or Ryan in that regard. My impression of them was that they would be after some of our money quite promptly.
And that we would politely decline.
By mutual agreement, we put off most discussion of ‘60 Minutes’ until tomorrow. It was late enough that it made sense. We had plenty of other things to talk about.
The visit was much like those in years gone by. Millie cooked an amazing dinner of locally grown food, we all ate too much, and Dad and Andrew started into a ‘do you remember when?’ conversation that would last until much too late in the evening.
Meanwhile, the five of us swapped recipes and cooking tips with Millie. Mom was far beyond being surprised that I was among that group by now. It simply was how things were. Likely or not, I both could cook and enjoyed cooking. It wasn’t what Mom had expected, but she loved that it was so.
Millie called it a night around nine. After making sure we knew how to find flashlights and remembered the path to the cabin, she headed off to bed. Mom stayed up with us, but was yawning most of the time. We told her we were heading to bed at nine-thirty, which made her sigh and admit she had been just about to say the same thing to us.
We said goodnight to Dad and Andrew, then followed the very dark path to the cabin. Each of us took a flashlight. They had quite a few available, and having a backup or two wouldn’t hurt.
It seemed to be a tradition to play strip poker in the cabin. It was also a tradition for Jas and me to lose fairly quickly. Angie won again this time, but it was again just by her panties, and she took those off mere seconds after Paige took hers off.
It was also a tradition to just go to bed. We were all tired, and we would have more time here. I honestly doubted we would fool around tomorrow night, either. We would have plenty of privacy on Thursday, after all.
Friday? Privacy, but also — potentially — fireworks, of the Aunt Helen sort.
Wednesday, July 2, 1986
When we made it over to the house for breakfast, we found Mom and Millie sitting and enjoying some of Millie’s cooking. There was no sign of Dad or Andrew.
“I don’t even know when they went to bed,” Mom said, when we asked. “I didn’t wake up. It was very late, though. I’m sure of that.”
“I know even less,” Millie said. “But I agree. Very late!”
We settled in for breakfast, making sure we left plenty for Dad and Andrew. Much of this morning’s conversation turned to weddings, both ours and ones we were attending. Millie thought the idea of my following Lizzie in a dance was highly amusing and joined the ranks of those who wanted pictures.
It also reminded me that I had fewer than three weeks left to come up with a Best Man speech. I could probably do the whole thing extemporaneously, but that was probably a bad idea. Writing every word out would be silly, but so would just winging it.
Dad emerged around ten, yawning but smiling.
“Thanks for indulging Andrew and me,” he said. “We need to catch up sometimes!”
“We’re starting to see how that is, more and more,” Angie said. “We’ll undoubtedly do things like this later in life.”
“Given how well you keep up with your friends, I imagine you will!” he said. “Sometimes it seems like we would have less to say, since we keep up, but there’s always just more.”
“That’s how it is with a good friendship,” Millie said. “There are times you just want to be together. And, sometimes, it’s not what you’re saying that really matters. Just who you’re talking to.”
We all nodded. I knew she was right, and I was pretty sure the others either knew that or at least knew they would know it with time. Sometimes it was just the people. I might well never talk to Dave Winton again, but we’d had that sort of relationship. Sometimes we talked about something important. But, often, the important part was just the talking.
Would Darla be that way one day? It could happen. The dynamics between men and women are different, and the dynamics between former sexual partners are even more different. Still, I could talk with Sue that way, I was pretty sure. And likely Claire.
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