Chapter 36: Confessions and Consequences

Sunday, October 27, 1985

I was in luck. Camille was up before I was, and I was up well before Jas was. When I got out of bed, she just groaned, rolled over, and buried her head in the pillow.

It might have been an act, though. She almost certainly suspected I wanted to talk to Camille without her.

In any case, I visited the bathroom, changed there, then headed off to the kitchen.

I told Camille about our new plan. She seemed thrilled, both to be included at all and that she would potentially get to see the Rose Parade. The Disneyland invitation also made her happy. She and Francis had been, twice, but it had been many years and they were eager to see the differences.

Without putting it into words, she made it pretty clear that she approved of my using their gift for the Hawaii part of the trip. California was a more complicated question, but I would use my best judgment. Some, but not all, of the money? That seemed best.

We got onto the subject of rings. I would propose using the family ring, but have a ready-to-wear inexpensive diamond (or, possibly, cubic zirconia or other diamond-like stone) ready. Jas deserved to have a ring to wear for the rest of the trip and I could afford one. It wouldn’t be the sort of ring I would give Jas as the ring, but all it had to do was give her something shiny until we remade the family ring.

Camille approved of all of that. A shiny object was good; a family heirloom was much better. She also mentioned something I’d already thought of: showing off an heirloom ring to the extended family in France would definitely stem some of their worries. One does not gift an heirloom ring to a girl they’re just stringing along, after all.

Well ... perhaps some people do. But it sounded like a very bad idea. Yes, both etiquette and the law are generally on the side of engagement rings needing to be returned, but that’s a risky, high-stakes bet when the ring in question is a family treasure.

We wrapped up our conversation well before Jas appeared. Since she hadn’t appeared yet, I went and checked on her. She woke when I came in (or pretended to, but I thought she really had been sleeping) and got up quickly, joining me for breakfast.

Somewhere lurking under our Disneyland discussion, unspoken but still acknowledged, was the notion that this might be a preview of later trips when Camille and Francis would be pampering their grandchildren. We’d made it abundantly clear we were looking forward to that, after all, and Disney parks are a canonical ‘pamper the grandchildren’ destination for grandparents.

I had to wonder if some of this was a reaction to our own upbringing. Angie was the only one of us who’d grown up in regular contact with her grandmother. Grandmother had always been old in comparison, though. She had been sixty-five when Angie and I were born. Dad might be nearly that old, perhaps, if we waited until after grad school. That was a real possibility. However, Camille, Francis, Tony, and Jean would all be only in their early fifties and Mom would potentially still be in her late fifties.

Jasmine and Paige hadn’t had any more contact with their grandparents than I had. Indeed, both of them now knew Grandmother and Professor Berman better than their own grandparents.

Being able to have our kids grow up with grandparents in their lives was a goal. Fortunately, we should be able to do that.

In my first life, Dad had lived to see my kids graduate from high school. Mom hadn’t, but she’d at least seen them to being teenagers. In this one? I had hopes for Mom getting a few more years, and we would be starting considerably earlier. College graduation wasn’t at all out of the question for Mom and Dad. The others might see still more.

We hit the road just after nine-thirty, picked up Angie and Paige, and arrived at Emerson Unitarian Universalist Church about fifteen minutes before their late service.

Simply on looks, we immediately agreed that it seemed like a nice place for our weddings. It was big enough for our growing guest list, was nice enough as it looked now, and would be easy to spruce for the ceremonies.

We enjoyed the service and sermon. The minister, Dr. Schulman, was quite personable and also seemed smart. I hardly expected less, given that he and Dr. Ott were friends, but it was good to see him in action.

After the service, we all shook hands with Dr. Schulman, then headed to their fellowship hall for the social hour. Once we were there, the girls demanded I talk to Dr. Schulman on our behalf.

I headed back, catching him as the line of people greeting him finally ran out, and introduced myself (and the girls, who he remembered) as members of the Brazos Valley church. He sounded happy that we’d visited his church.

After that, I got down to business.

“Dr. Schulman, we came here for another reason. The four of us are all from Houston, and we’re starting to plan weddings. Oh, we’re not formally engaged yet, but ... assuming no major shocks...”

He chuckled softly at that.

“ ... we think the summer of 1987 is likely.”

“Is there a reason you wouldn’t get married at your home church?” he asked.

I smiled and said, “There are a few. First, our guest list is already bigger than the seating capacity of the College Station church. And we’re still over a year and a half out! We have a tendency to add friends faster than we lose touch with them.”

“A good problem to have!” he said, smiling.

“The other major reason is travel. We have friends coming from a number of places, including international travel. Some may be elderly. College Station is a lot of extra travel.”

He nodded quickly.

“That’s very considerate of you.”

“Under other circumstances, we might get married up the road. My sister Angie and I grew up with Dr. Ott as our minister. However ... well, the four of us are two couples. Dr. Ott can’t very well marry two women.”

He sighed and nodded.

“That is true. He is a good friend and an admirable man, but he has pushed the tolerance of his denomination as far as he can. You know that he faced some outrage a few years ago for speaking on behalf of a lesbian student at a school board meeting.”

I did not, and I think the shock was probably evident on my face.

“I ... did not know that,” I said. “It worked out?”

Dr. Schulman nodded. “After a time, it all blew over, fortunately.”

“I’m the one who asked him to speak at that meeting, Dr. Schulman. It was on behalf of my good friend Lizzie Vinton...”

“I recognize the name,” he said. “Somehow, I hadn’t connected the two. What a small world!”

He hesitated, and then said, “Wait. You said your sister’s name is Angie? Is that...?”

“It is,” I said, chuckling.

“My goodness! We were stunned when Memorial High School had lesbians at their prom. Then again! And yet again this past spring! She’s marrying...?”

“Paige, who was her date at that second prom.”

“Oh, my! Somehow that makes it more clear why you will have a large guest list!”

“These will be real, personal friends, I think.”

He nodded.

“Well, we would certainly be open to hosting your weddings, and it’s no problem for me to marry a lesbian couple. You are thinking of a double ceremony?”

“Yes,” I said, nodding. “Our guest lists will almost entirely overlap, and we’re basically inseparable anyway.”

“Please let us know when you pick a date,” he said. “I will be happy to reserve it for you, and our secretary can go over the fees and such.”

“Thank you, Dr. Schulman! There’s a matter of proposals, but ... well, we have a plan.”

“Plans are a good thing! I would very much like to meet the others, but we can schedule that once you have a date in mind.”

“Thank you,” I said.

We shook hands, after which I headed back to the fellowship hall. The girls were chatting with some of the other congregants, and I joined them for a bit.

We left about half an hour later, and I filled them in on things in the car.

“Seriously? He got in trouble just for saying Lizzie shouldn’t be drummed out of the student council for being gay?” Angie said.

“That sucks!” Paige said.

“It’s the Missouri Synod,” I said, sighing. “If Dr. Ott wasn’t such a big name, they probably would have censured him or something. Ten years from now, they would anyway. In my first life, Mom and Dad stayed there the rest of their lives, even with ministers they increasingly didn’t like, because they had such good friends there. In this one ... I don’t know.”

“You think they’ll do something different?” Jas said.

Angie sighed.

“It’s us,” she said. “Paige and me. Mom won’t put up with anyone slighting me. Or her daughter-in-law, either!”

“She shouldn’t have to change churches because of us,” Paige said.

“It’s ... not that,” Angie said. “I mean, it is, but ... it’s ... she’s a different person than she was. We did that, probably. You don’t want her to have to change churches, but ... I mean, we both want her to be the sort of person who would support us.”

“We do, definitely,” Paige said.

“Mom can’t be that sort of person and just stay quiet if everyone else is badmouthing people like us. It’s the people badmouthing ‘the gays’ that will make her change, not us.”

“That makes sense,” Paige said. “Sucky, but it makes sense.”

“Honestly, it’s also Aunt Helen,” Angie said. “Aunt Helen pushed it too far. Yeah, her church isn’t the same denomination, but it’s more than close enough, and ... well, Mom was about one more squabble away from saying something neither of them could have forgiven, probably. The only reason she held back was Tim. Mom is sensitive to the issue now. Saying gay people are bad is saying her daughter and daughter-in-law are bad, and Mom won’t abide that.”

“Still sucks,” Paige said. “I get it, though, and it’s way better than the alternative.”

“So much better!” Angie said.

We all agreed. It was.

The elephant in the car came out a bit later, when Angie said, “Okay. I’m ready to discuss the note.”

Jas said, “Please. We’re here for you, and really curious.”

I seconded her, saying, “Anything you need.”

“Paige is going to fill in some of my thoughts, because ... first, this is so emotional, and just reading it will get to me. Second, she’s my check and balance. She’s the one saying, ‘Wait. Don’t just believe what you desperately want to believe. Because ... I do want to believe, but I need to really consider it before I do.”

We all nodded.

Angie pulled out a card, opened it, and read, “‘Dear A: Thank you for believing in me. Sometimes I wonder if I would be anywhere near as generous if the roles were reversed. At other times, I know I would not. From what little I know of you, you have become an amazing person, a far better one than I could ever be. No thanks to me, sadly. If the only good thing I ever do with my life is bringing you into the world, that will be enough. I should have done more, and I ... I did ... did ... not.’”

She stopped there and sniffled a bit. Paige held her.

After a second, while Angie sniffled, Paige said, “I thought maybe that was just ... you know. Flattery. But ... I don’t think it is. Not after the rest.”

“It’s...” Angie said, then stopped to blow her nose. Once she could continue, she said, “I’m pretty sure it’s not. I think she’s sometimes been quite depressed and it’s coming out in the note. It might be wishful thinking, but I think she finally hit bottom for real. The whole getting arrested thing was a cry for help, but people cry for help and then reject it. She can get out of this, but she can’t do it herself, and ... she’s finally ready to get help. And, thank God, she’s getting it.”

“Me, too,” Paige said. “I mean, all of that. I agree.”

“Anyway, that’s the start,” Angie said. “I just couldn’t go on. It’s funny. There were times when I just wanted her to fucking burn in hell, but now I’m really invested in her making it.”

Everyone nodded.

Angie read, saying, “‘I spent a lot of time thinking. What I do is escape. It’s all I’ve ever known. Your father — the man who raised you, I mean, who was your true father as long as he could be — was an escape from worse. Things he never knew about. But I couldn’t stay with him because I was too weak. Leaving once was better than leaving a thousand times, and that’s what I would have done. He wouldn’t have let me escape any other way, and I couldn’t face life the way it really was.’”

Then she nudged Paige.

Paige said, “Again, my first thought was ... incredibly manipulative. But ... it adds up. Frank wouldn’t have put up with her getting high all the time, from what I know of him and what Angie says...”

“He wouldn’t have,” Angie said.

“He was devastated when Angie did, in my first life, and did everything he could to help her,” I said.

“So, yeah,” Paige said. “It’s gotta be at least a bit self-serving, but ... duh! We’re agreed: she’s mostly just being honest here. And if she can say it, maybe she’s being honest with herself, too.”

“Yeah,” Angie said, taking another deep breath. “This is ... it’s good. So ... um. Okay. The next part is ... hard. If she’s being honest — and this time I’m just gonna preface it by saying I think she is — something I’ve believed for years is ... okay. It’s halfway wrong. It’s still fucked up and she was still wrong, but she knows she was wrong and why.”

“And, for the record, I agree,” Paige said. “This is fucked up, but ... it’s also ... it’s just ... so fucking scary.”

She lifted the note and said, “‘The worst thing I did was take you when I did and where I did. I should have gone to the court and said you belonged with anyone on your father’s side of the family. But I was not thinking right. I knew what you know I knew. My mind said the courts would know, too, and they would send you to my family if I wouldn’t take you. And, my daughter, that would have been the end of you. I got away, but they wouldn’t make that mistake again. Oh, you would be alive, but not living. Not really. There is really only one point to girls in that family. Or two, perhaps: making more of the family. I should have said something long ago, but I was weak. Hiding was better than speaking. Do not make waves. Be seen and not heard. Defer to your betters. I’ve lived most of my life with that as something I could not escape from, no matter how far I ran. I finally understand that I never got away, I just weakened the bonds a little.’”

Angie started crying again. Quietly, but shuddering, with Paige holding her. Other than that, there was silence for a while. Not just a few seconds, but probably nearly a minute. Finally, Jas said, “Fuck! I ... my God! Is she saying...?”

“We think so,” Paige said, stroking Angie’s hair. “It’s ambiguous, but ... yeah. If ... I mean. If she had Angie, however fucked up things were, it wasn’t nearly as fucked up as if they did. And if she thought they would know about Frank...”

Angie blew her nose and said, “I thought about it, honey. This is new. I think ... now ... well ... okay, this is a guess. I think Sharon thinks they know. And...”