Chapter 9: Happiness Is a Choice

Sunday, July 25, 1982

I’m glad we hadn’t gotten out of the habit of getting up early, because we had to get up for church. After more than a month of not going, of course we did. And I was happy going.

Oh, it wasn’t going to be a priority when we moved out. Anything but. First go-round, Mom and Dad had made sure I knew where the Missouri Synod Lutheran church closest to campus was, and that the church knew I was coming. For four years, I got mailings from them every month. I never darkened their door once.

But, for now? Mom and Dad cared, and I liked Dr. Ott. Now, after what’d happened, I liked him more than ever, and I’d always appreciated him. So, why not put on a smile and be enthusiastic?

Happy is a state of mind. It’s easier to be happy when things are going your way, and it’s nearly impossible to be happy when things are really not going your way at all, but for the great majority of people in the middle, with nothing too great and nothing too awful to contend with, happiness is a choice.

My ex-wife very seldom chose ‘happy’ when she could choose ‘angry.’ I chose ‘happy’ whenever I reasonably could. Maybe that was the root of our discontent, but I’ve never blamed her for it, not really. She was the product of her upbringing and her family, and none of them were all that good at choosing to be happy.

This created a bit of a conundrum. I’d spent decades wishing I knew how to handle her general disposition, her refusal to look on the bright side, to see the silver lining, to choose happiness. Had I understood that, so much trouble would have been averted. Yet, without those decades, would this me even exist? Who else’s life would be worse because I’d avoided some painful lessons? Angie’s? Candice’s? Cammie and Mel’s? Jasmine’s? Jessica’s? And on, and on. Janet and Lizzie. Mike and Sarah, Connie and Jimmy, Emily and the Wonder Twins, Cal and Andy. Sheila and Amit. Calvin and Megan. Sue. Bree. Even Dave Mayrink. More and more, on and on. Names I didn’t even know.

If that’s not looking for the silver lining, I’m not sure what is. But it’s also true. I had this life, and if the cost of that was my failed marriage and all of the heartache it’d caused, I was glad to have paid it.

Angie and I headed for the mall Sunday afternoon. Just to shop, and we didn’t run into anyone particularly close. Plenty of acquaintances, including many that I just barely knew. Cheerleaders, in particular, knew me now, and I got hugs from several of them.

Still surreal, and the most surreal part might be that it was becoming just part of my life.

Monday, July 26, 1982

The phone didn’t ring all day. I decided that was a good thing. I had nowhere to go and nothing I needed to do. Sure, I would’ve enjoyed a date, but I didn’t need one.

I did use the phone, just once, calling Meg. I lucked into getting her on the phone and went over the summer. She was thrilled for Cammie and me. She hadn’t heard from the others yet, but most weren’t back yet.

Besides that, I read, napped, and just hung out. I played on my computer, something I hadn’t done nearly enough, perhaps. I’d gotten an idea that I thought might be a very good idea. Some risk, possibly very high reward. If it was to work, I’d need to get my computer skills back in order. That should be easy. Even rusty, I was a far better programmer now than first-life me had been at sixteen. I could remember when various programming insights had hit me, and they were yet to come.

I could’ve made a lot of money, most likely, ripping off ideas from upcoming software packages. But there were other ways of making money, and I was still pretty sure that my path in this life didn’t lie down the road of ‘computer genius.’

The phone rang at 8pm. I was ready for it.

“Hi, Steve!”

“Hi, Jasmine!”

“How’s being home?”

“Boring in the best possible way.”

She giggled. “Um ... okay?”

“I didn’t have to be anywhere today, or do anything. It’s been so long since I’ve had a day like that. More than a few in a row and I would likely start going crazy, but one...”

“Ahh. I get that, totally. We’re so busy sometimes I can’t even keep track of what I need to be busy with. Choreography, songs, lines, and then other things they’re teaching.” I could hear just a hint of exhaustion in her voice. “And Blue. And other friends. And ... yeah. I need to relax, too! Though your company always gets me relaxed. Eventually, anyway,” she finished with a giggle.

“I’m counting the days.”

“Me, too. I love this and I’m having a blast! But I’m also looking forward to getting home.”

“Love you, honey.”

“Love you, Steve.”

“Talk to you Wednesday.”

“Talk to you then!”

Tuesday, July 27, 1982

Angie and I got to Jane’s office around 6pm. We were officially out with friends. Jane’s office was dark, as usual. Our ‘real’ appointment was August 7th, and we’d both decided that was a bit too long to wait.

“How was your summer?” Jane asked as she opened the door.

“So far, so good,” Angie said.

“Yeah, that,” I added.

“Very descriptive,” Jane said, chuckling softly.

“We’ll get there,” I said.

“Of that I have no doubt,” Jane said. “Come on in and let’s go get comfortable.”

We arranged ourselves in her office.

“So ... where should we start?” Jane said.

“Maybe with an odd maybe-coincidence,” Angie said.

“Yeah, that,” I said. Angie waved her hand as if to whap me.

“Am I going to be annoyed that I don’t know this?” Jane asked.

“Oh ... probably,” Angie said. “But you couldn’t have done anything about it.”

“I’ll just dive in. We ran into Laura Waters,” I said.

Jane blinked. “At your summer program?”

Angie chuckled. “No. That would have been interesting, and we’d probably have learned ... something.”

“She was at the University of Michigan when we happened to walk around the campus. Apparently she went to their summer program. She seemed ... um ... fine?” I said.

“How do you mean?” Jane asked.

“Well ... she wasn’t jumpy, didn’t snap at us, was polite, all that,” I said.

“She seemed fine,” Angie said. “I could say too fine, but ... not really. If we weren’t so aware of her, it’d have been no big deal. It probably wouldn’t even register.”

“If there was any weird thing, it was looking back after we parted, to see her looking back at me. But that could mean nothing at all,” I said.

“Such an odd coincidence, but ... it does prove nothing,” Jane said, nodding. “Nothing else ... unusual?”

We both shook our head. “Time-travel-wise, nothing else,” Angie said.

“Yeah. Just Laura, for whatever that’s worth,” I added.

“So ... besides that, how was it?”

I let Angie go first. “Aside from turning my ankle, it was good. I’m back to only limping a bit.”

“Ouch!”

“I couldn’t do any dancing the last half of the program, including the social dance. Well, I got one in.” She gave me a smile. “It kinda stunk. But I did a lot of vocal work and learned a lot, anyway.”

“I’m glad you still had a good time and learned a lot, and that your ankle is better. How about you, Steve?”

“It was an ... interesting time. I have some things for the next session. There’s no big mystery here — I just felt weird about how I related to other people. Angie knows that. But it’s kinda a regular therapy type of topic. I’ve got another like that, but Angie and I both have it, so I’ll mention it shortly. Meanwhile ... let’s see ... I did well, came back with a mountain of evidence, and Cammie and I won the institute tournament, which meant we debated in front of the biggest audience we’ve ever had.”

“Sounds good, and interesting.”

Angie butted in. “He met a girl, too.”

I probably blushed. “Um ... well...”

Jane looked a bit worried. “Well?”

“Just friends,” I said. “Well ... making out type friends. Nothing more.”

“I feel ... relieved ... I think.”

“We both wanted more, and Jasmine thought we should try for more, but ... she’s from Effingham, Illinois. We didn’t really meet much until the social dance. That’s just one week ago. We danced, and then the next day we advanced to making out, but ... she’s rebounding, I’m unavailable, the one-night-stand would’ve been just sex, and if it went wrong, we’re a thousand miles apart.”

“So you made the responsible choice, of course.”

“She had enough ... interest ... that I could’ve made the irresponsible choice, most likely, but it was clear to me she wouldn’t have truly wanted to.”

“Which wouldn’t slow a lot of boys down.”

I chuckled. “Probably most of the fifty- ... um... -seven-year-old boys.”

“Since I’ve only met one, I’d say all of them. Anything more on...?”

“Gail. Nothing really, no. Oh, we traded phone numbers, but I don’t even know that we’ll call. It was really just ... one of those things. Even if she were here, I don’t think we’d date for long.”

Angie chimed in again, “They wouldn’t. She’d pick a Drama guy and settle down, I’m nearly certain. Or maybe a sports guy.”

“Steve is an athletic guy who does Drama.”

Angie giggled. “Yeah, but he has a steady girlfriend, plus other girlfriends. Gail wouldn’t want to be ... on the periphery.”

Jane nodded. “Makes sense. So ... you said a real therapy issue?”

“I’m not sure which of us got it worse, but we both got ... post-event depression is a good name for it. A day or so’s worth, at most, nothing to struggle with, but it hit both of us. I used to be prone to it.”

“It was pretty new for me,” Angie said. “But ... first go-round, I didn’t have a lot of big events like this, and ... well. Anyway.”

“So, when you say ‘post-event depression’...?”

“Crying. Feeling like ... the good time was over. That we could have done more. Done better. Like, maybe I should’ve done something with Gail, just to do it. Been a social butterfly and made a hundred new friends. Seen amazing things and had amazing adventures.”

“I know what you’re describing,” Jane said, nodding. “It’s not a big part of my practice, partly because it’s usually self-correcting. Some adults get it worse. For a while, you have the anticipation, the planning, big things to look forward to. Then, you’re there, and busy and having fun. When you’re done, and the fun is done, it’s natural to say both ‘was that all?’ and ‘when will I ever have fun like that again?’ Depression is natural. I think that’s why we have honeymoons — so people aren’t depressed right after the biggest planned event in their lives. It’s natural to be a little down when you go back to ‘reality’ after a honeymoon, and if you don’t get a honeymoon, you can figure the depression is due to not getting one. If there was no honeymoon in the mix, well ... post-event depression would be really ... inconvenient ... after you just got married.”