Chapter 21: Togetherness

Saturday, August 21, 1982

I woke up feeling like a new man. I hadn’t really added up how poorly I’d been sleeping, but I’m sure it was poorly indeed.

Heading out to breakfast, I found Mom bustling around the kitchen making lunch.

“Hi, Steve! You look happy this morning. Good dinner with Jasmine?”

I nodded. “Very good.”

“Did you fix things with her?”

I must have blushed a bit, because Mom chuckled, then smiled. “Oh, I think your father is clueless, but I could tell something must be off, and it doesn’t take as many brains as you have to figure out what it was likely to be. I wouldn’t have said anything, except it seems like maybe there’s good news.”

I smiled back. “Thanks for not pushing, Mom. Yes, something was off. Really, it was ‘just’ a miscommunication, but sometimes that’s more than enough.”

She nodded. “At least you’ve figured out that lesson. A lot of people just concentrate on what the ‘facts’ say, which can be totally beside the point in a disagreement.”

“That’s pretty much what I do, much of the time. Oh, it’s competitive instead of being something where we’re trying to cooperate, but the facts are secondary to good communication. Well ... or so much bad communication that it baffles them, but I don’t really like that strategy.”

“Don’t try that one with girls!”

“I had no plans to.”

She smiled. “I know that. If you were the kind to do that, you’d have a lot more girlfriends than you have, and they wouldn’t all like you. Heck, you’d have more to fear from them than from Max!”

“That’s a scary thought.”

Mom set down the knife she’d been using to butter bread — it looked like grilled cheese was on the menu — and sat across from me. I could tell she was thinking something serious, and hoped it wouldn’t be something painful.

“I can’t believe I’m going to ask this of a sixteen-year-old, or about a sixteen-year-old, but ... is she the one, Steve?”

That wasn’t anything I’d thought she might ask, maybe because it is an absurd question on the face of it, at least for most people. I mulled over my answer for just a second, then smiled. “I don’t know, Mom. It’s that whole sixteen-year-old thing. Well ... or I can say it is, I suppose. I think sometimes it’s not an easier question for someone ten years older.”

“It certainly wasn’t easy for me at twenty-four, which was ‘old maid’ age in those days. It wasn’t easy even at twenty-eight, which is when I had to make up my mind. And, you didn’t answer.”

I smiled. “No, I did, you just didn’t quite hear it, Mom. The answer is that I don’t know, but I don’t think not knowing is because we’re sixteen. That matters, of course — we have a lot to learn, growing to do, and there’s that risk of finding out that what we want out of college is incompatible. Set that all aside, though, and ... I don’t know. But what’s important in that is that I’m open to the question and I know the answer isn’t ‘no.’”

She nodded. “Sometimes I question which one of us is older,” she said with a little grin. “You’re right. If you’d said she was, that’s ... questionable. And knowing she’s not ... that’s a worse answer, at least by my 1950s morality. But seriously looking and seeing what you find? Good answer.”

“If she is?”

She blushed a bit. “I ... before you started dating her, I suppose I would’ve been surprised. I’ve lived in the big city ... well, two of them ... for over twenty years, but I still have a lot of the small-town Wisconsin girl in me. I didn’t know anyone who wasn’t white growing up. No one. The Jewish kids, all ten or them or whatever it was, were the odd ones out. We were all mostly Wisconsin German, though no one said that during the war! I never thought anything bad. I even thought the cartoons during the war were stupid. The ones making fun of the Japanese, I mean ... and, yes, I know there’s a difference. Don’t give me that look.”

I chuckled at that. It hadn’t been much of a look.

She grinned a bit, then went on. “Mostly, just ... well, the Germans in those war cartoons were caricatures, we all knew that. So, of course, the Japanese must be, too. But I wouldn’t have known what to think, I suppose. She seems like a great person to me, but I don’t know her anywhere near as well as you do, and that’ll always be true, even if you two wind up together forever. And that’s how it should be. Ma hardly knows Sam anywhere near as well as I do. How could she?”

I nodded. “Also a good answer. I’d like whoever ‘the one’ turns out to be to be someone who can fit in and be a welcome member of the family. It could be her, or it might not. We have talked about it, and decided we can’t tell either. I don’t know if we’ll make a decision anytime soon. Certainly we’re not about to try marriage during high school.”

She rolled her eyes. “That wouldn’t go over well with me or with Sam. There were some of those in my school — and, no, it wasn’t because they had to. Well, mostly, anyway. It was just ... well. Maybe their parents thought they had to, just in case. Anyway, many of those either didn’t last — though it wasn’t nearly so easy to get a divorce then — or were awful.”

“It took you four years to decide?”

She shrugged. “Five? Six? It took us two or three years, I suppose, to even decide we were dating. I’d decided I didn’t want to get married. Sam, I think, wanted to get married, but ... well, you know him. He flirts outrageously, always, but he never pursues. That’s not because of me, that predates me. He flirted with me and every girl in my office. We all knew he was just flirting. It took the two of us a long time to realize that all of those lunches and then movies and bowling and whatnot were ‘dating,’ because he’d never asked me on a ‘date,’ and I never would have accepted if he had. I’m still not sure if we figured out that we were in love with each other before or after we figured out that we were dating. And then it took years to commit.”

I was quietly fascinated by this conversation. I’d known bits and pieces of it, but the entirety? Much of this was new information, and the parts that I had known had been picked up from clues, not Mom telling me. But then I’d never dated a girl while living at home, and by the time I had, the moment had passed. By the time she met my ex-wife, I’d already decided to propose, and Mom and Dad knew that, since I’d asked for Grandmother’s ring, which had been set aside for me to offer to my bride-to-be.

“Slow or not, you did it right, Mom.”

She blushed and looked a bit confused. “What do you mean? I think we dawdled much too long.”

I shook my head. “No, not that. No, I mean ... Dad. That’s what I want. Someone who really is the one. Not in a destiny way, perhaps, but the person who gets you, who you get, and who you just ... belong ... with.”

She blushed a bit more. “That’s one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me.”

“It’s true. And, for Jasmine, her parents are the same. She wants what they have. The very notion of you and Dad not together, or Jasmine’s parents ... it would be tragic.”

“With those attitudes ... well, in that case, I hope you are each other’s match. Or, I suppose, that — if you’re not — you find out sooner rather than later. I feel like kids these days so often go into marriage with the attitude that they’re doing what’s right for the moment, not forever.”

I shrugged. “I’m not sure that hasn’t been the case more often than we think. It’s just been that doing something about it has been frowned upon.”

“You have a point. I knew plenty of unhappy couples who felt stuck together.”

I could’ve told her a long, very long, much too long story about just that. She would’ve thought I was nuts — or, maybe worse, understood that I wasn’t — but I certainly had the story to tell.

She shifted, stretching a little. “Thank you for giving me a real answer, Steve. It can’t be the easiest topic for you, especially right after something was ... off.”

“It’s a fair question. If she’s the one, she’ll be part of the family one day. I’m not marrying someone that you and Dad can’t happily embrace as a daughter-in-law.”

Mom shook her head a bit. “You have to decide for yourself, Steve. If she’s who you fit with...”

I shook my head right back at her. “If she fits with me, she fits as part of our family. Otherwise there’s something wrong.” Been there, done that, got the scars. Never, never again.

She smiled. “Well ... I still think we’re secondary in that decision, but it’s a nice sentiment.”

“Thanks, Mom. It’s important to me. I think it’s just as important to Angie.”

She nodded. “I ... can see that. No one really liked Sharon very much.”

“For good reason, I’m sure. And I’m sure Frank thought she was ‘the one.’”

“True. He did. And, whatever I think of her, she brought Angie into this world, and I can forgive nearly anything for that.”

“Me, too, Mom. Me, too.”

She got up. “I should finish lunch, and I imagine you have things to do. I’m going to guess I shouldn’t expect you for dinner?”

“A good guess, I’d say. We don’t have firm plans, but...”

“Plans to make plans. I get it. Sam and I did that many times.” She turned away, then looked back. “You know ... there were times when I thought we might never have a conversation like this. You changed, a lot. Angie gets a lot of the credit — I know just having her here changed so much — but not all of it.”

“Growing up, Mom. Growing up and figuring out what’s important.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“Me, too. Very, very glad.”

And, again, she could have no idea just how glad, nor just how well I knew where my prior path could lead.

“Steve!” Jasmine said, after answering the phone.

“Jasmine!”

“I woke up feeling so much better! It’s almost like a dream, but better.”

“Me, too. So much better.”

“Soooooo...?”

“Soup, then ... stuff that sounds a bit like soup?”

She giggled. “Totally game for both. I can’t wait. Late lunch?”

“Not even that late, if I leave soon.”

“What are you waiting for?!”

“I’m gone! See you soon!”

She giggled. “I love you, Steve.”

“I love you, Jasmine.”

I was at Jasmine’s house just slightly faster than the law allows, to find her outside waiting. Being chivalrous, I parked, went around, and opened the door for her. Being Jasmine, she kissed me very thoroughly before slipping into the car.

I closed her door, went around, and got in, to find that Jasmine believed in making certain I’d been sufficiently kissed. Not that I had any complaints about helping make certain of things.

Once we’d made a start at making up for weeks of lackluster kisses, I got my seat belt on and she did, too. Our hands found each other and I headed off to ‘our place.’

She sighed. “I’m sorry I fucked things up.”

“Nothing’s broken that can’t be fixed.”

“I know, but ... I just...” She sighed again. “I guess all that stuff about being sixteen and making dumb mistakes is something that applies to me, too.”

I bit my lip. “Can I say a few things?”

She blushed. “I think you’ve earned the right to say whatever you want. I can take it. I think.”

“No, not like that,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s ... I screwed up at communication...”

She started to say something, but I cut her off. “No, let me go on. I’m not saying you didn’t, or worse. But I did, too. Maybe ... maybe I was just a little impressed with myself that Jessica was ... well, falling for me. It’s a big ego boost, so I guess it’s no surprise I would be. And ... I get why it would be threatening if you weren’t completely sure I was loyal to you and would stay that way. That’s what I failed to communicate. Then you failed to communicate your doubts to me. And, we’d still have been fine, I think, if we weren’t apart for all those weeks. But all that time without seeing each other, plus heavy workloads and whatever came with that, plus someone actively interfering — I don’t know why, yet, I guess — and there we are, in a mess.”

“Yeah. I ... self-doubt. I mean, it hit me. Whatever you say, whatever anyone says, I know people see I’m different. That we’re different. Maybe that’s a good thing, for some people, but ... I don’t want to just be some ... fetish.” She hurried, lest I say something. “No! You never made me feel that way! But I could be. I think I have been. And...”

She hesitated a second, then shrugged. “This is weird to admit, but ... I talked to Connie about it, and we both agree. Both of us aren’t really attracted to Vietnamese people all that much. Oh, it could work, but our preferences formed here, around American media and mostly Caucasian Americans. The weird thing is, maybe that made me worry even more that some really attractive Caucasian girl would steal you away. After all, I’m a bit more attracted to Caucasian girls than Asian girls.”

I shrugged. “Of course I see it, but ... well. I love you, and that’s not skin-deep. I can’t say if it was easier or harder or whatever to fall in love with you because of what you look like, but that’s almost beside the point. I am in love with you, but — and more importantly — I also just love you. In love comes and goes. Love should stay. And I was never in love with Jessica, nor do I love her except as a friend.”

“Lexi...”

“Lexi is different. Maybe it’s because it was the first time. Maybe it’s ... who knows. Yes, I was just a little bit in love with Lexi. I’m not, now, and I don’t love her except as a friend. In fact, that was a huge red flag telling me we needed to back off. If I’d ever felt that way about Jessica, I’d have gotten out quickly, and her feeling that way about me is ... well, until that’s settled, I’m leery of doing much more than making out, physically. Even that’s a bit edgy, but hurting her feelings is bad, too.”

Jasmine nodded. “That’s why you didn’t care if she was on the list. I couldn’t understand that. What red-blooded male wouldn’t want to fuck her, right? Heck, a lot of girls, too! I mean, she’s probably on a lot of people’s ‘free pass’ lists. But you were past worrying about that and fully onto reasons not to. I couldn’t see that.”

“I think one of the lessons here — not just for you — is that once you start seeing things a certain way it’s hard to step back and question your assumptions. You assumed I had to want Jessica — enough to dump you, even. I assumed Gail had to do with us in some way — my not being adventurous enough at picking up girls, maybe — and never thought of her being somehow related to Jessica.”

“Communication, communication, communication. We said it, then we sucked at it.”

“And we survived to try again.”

“At least now I know what Mama meant, all those times. I could be upset about her not just saying it, but she wanted me to see it for myself, and I couldn’t.”

I shrugged. “I think 99% of parents mean something physical if they say ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’ Not some much more interesting bit of non-obvious relationship advice.”

“Yeah. It’s good advice! I’m going to do my best to live according to it.”

“I am, too. Heck, so’s Angie, I think.”

“Mama will get a kick out of that.”

“Good! She’s one of the heroes here.”

“She sure gave me a kick in the butt when I needed it.”

“Me, too. And support, when I needed it. Plus a reason to be careful, as if I needed one.”

“Oh?”

“She made it clear that if I’d done something bad, and I lied about it, that was it from her perspective. Make a mistake and own up to it? Fine. Get misjudged? Fine. Screw up and try to hide it? Not fine.”

“That’s Mama. You’ll be fine. I mean, you passed the Jessica test. It’ll be hard for me to worry again.”

I shook my head. “It’s not that simple. The Lexi test was harder. I passed, but it was a closer thing. Not that close, but closer than Jessica. That’s the flip side of our relationship — any girl can be the tough test. Unless she’s someone I can’t love, falling for her is a risk. And, if she’s someone I can’t love, I probably wouldn’t be in the situation in the first place.”

“Good point. I’ll be watching!”

“I’ll be watching myself, too.”

“No, I meant I’ll be watching me. And you, but ... been there, done that, have the scars. That watching comes with communication. Girls are a risk for me, too, after all.”

“And guys, if you changed your mind.”

She took my hand and squeezed it. “I don’t think I will. Mama and I had a long talk about that. What works for her that way just ... doesn’t ... for me. Maybe one day, but ... well. You and I would have a long talk first. It would have to work for both of us and...” She shrugged. “If Mama liked girls more than she does, I think she’d do things differently.”

“It’s always your choice.”

She nodded. “I appreciate that.”

We pulled up to Pho King, kissed, kissed a bit more, then, reluctantly, stopped kissing. What were we going to do, hop in the back seat parked at Pho King? Not even Mikayla would go for that.

I came around and helped Jasmine out, then took her hand. We headed in, to find a smiling woman watching us from the counter.

“Steve! You back! Together, I mean!”

I smiled back to her. “We are, Huong!”

“Good! You two stay together this time!”

Jasmine was blushing a bit.

“Huong, Jasmine. Jasmine, Huong.”

“Jasmine ... is pretty. Name is, too!” She grinned.

Jasmine stayed a bit red, but spoke up. “Hoa nhài, Huong.”

“Oh! Hoa nhài! Pretty! Make good tea! Is good to finally talk.”