Chapter 59: Holiday Greetings

Sunday, December 12, 1982

Study group was nothing but work. Finals were upon us. Naps were suspended. A few people might take one Tuesday, with two days of finals done, but ... perhaps not.

Mike would be going out of town right after finals, so — following Tuesday — we wouldn’t be back here until New Year’s Eve. It was good for Mike to be able to travel, though. Especially since four days of that were a ski trip and he was allowed to bring Sarah. I didn’t know how much parental negotiation that’d involved, but it was nice to see someone else in our little circle being treated like a young adult.

Now, those two needed to live up to it. I was sure they could. Hopefully, they would, too.

Angie and I got on our phones and dialed a familiar number.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Erwin,” I said.

“Oh! Steve! Great to hear from you! Candy’s home, studying, with Sherry. Actually studying, too,” he said, chuckling. I was happy to hear him joking around that way. It made me feel better. I still thought Sherry had likely been a blow for Erwin and Sandy, but they’d moved past it to acceptance or even happiness.

“Great,” I said.

“I’ll go get her.”

“Hi, Erwin,” Angie said. “Just wanted to say hi. Say hi to Sandy from me, too.”

“Oh! I will, yes, Angie.”

“And say hi to Sandy from me, too,” I said.

“Of course!”

He set down the phone. A few minutes later I heard a giggle, then the phone being picked up.

“Hey!” Candice said.

“Hey yourself!” Angie said.

“Hi,” I said. I wanted to say ‘honey’ or the like, but ... it felt ... wrong. Especially today.

“Hi, too,” she said.

“We just wanted to call and check in. It’s been too long,” Angie said.

“It has. It really has. School is busy, and Sherry is ... busy ... and that’s all good, and ... well. But we need to get together!”

“We do,” I said. “Any plans for winter break?”

“We still call it Christmas break,” she said, giggling. “Catholic school. You know. Anyway ... no. I think Mom and Dad are really gunshy about winter vacations. Which, they shouldn’t be, but I did pretty much screw up the last one in the most dramatic way possible.”

Angie chuckled. “Oh, you could probably outdo yourself?”

“You think? I’d better not consider that. I’d really better not,” she said. But she was giggling, too. It made me happy that this was something we could joke about, especially on this particular day.

“So, how about you?” she said.

“We’re going to San Antonio for a few days after Christmas,” Angie said. “Big brother, Jas, Paige, and me.”

“Oh! Sounds like fun!” She hesitated. “Wait? Paige? What happened to Gene?”

“Um ... his parents didn’t really approve of him going out of town for a few nights with his girlfriend,” Angie said, skirting the subject.

Candice wasn’t letting her skirt it, though. “So ... friends? Or...?”

“It’s a ... um ... girls’ week out,” Angie said, blushing just a bit.

She giggled. “Switching teams, too?”

“I’m considering it. I’ve considered it for a long while,” Angie said. “And ... well. It won’t be the first time, and now I’m trying it out a bit more.”

“Well, now, I have something to think about! And tease Sherry about!”

I chuckled. “Whatever spices things up.”

“We’re plenty spicy enough, Mister Marshall!” she said.

“I’m sure you are,” I said.

“So,” Angie said, “Maybe we can catch up in person? How’s Friday or Saturday this week?”

“Friday I’m busy,” she said. “Dinner at Sherry’s. But Saturday’s free, pretty sure. I’ll run it past the parents, and Sherry, but I think it’ll be great. Unless I call right back, consider me in.”

“Pizza place? At six?” Angie said.

“Yeah. I have great memories of that place. I’m for it.”

“Yay!” Angie said.

“Sounds great!” I said. “Looking forward to it!”

“I have to hear all about everything,” she said. “I’m sure you’ve been busy!”

“So very busy,” Angie said. “But it’s all good.”

“It is,” I said.

“Okay, well, I’ll let you go. It’s finals for us, and I’m sure it is for you, too. I really actually do need to study! So does Sherry! And it’s not the same classes!”

“See you Saturday,” I said.

“Yes! See you Saturday,” Angie said.

“See you then!” Candice said, and hung up.

Angie came over a minute later and gave me a high five.

“She doesn’t miss anything,” she said, grinning.

“Nope, she doesn’t. It’ll be great to see them both,” I said.

“Should I bring Paige?”

“I think so. We’re not going to dwell on what’s ancient history now,” I said.

“Yeah. We won’t. Cool. Paige will love it.”

“And they’ll love Paige. Not like you will, but...”

“Yeah,” she said, giggling. “Not like I will.”

Monday, December 13, 1982

Finals were ... exhausting. I’d had two today. Considering I only had four of substance, this was disproportionately many. Trig and English down, with History and Physics to go.

When I got home, I browsed through the mail, as I usually do. Neither Ang nor I get much mail, really, though that was picking up as colleges noted our PSAT scores and started vying for our attention. It would really pick up in the spring, and explode in the fall, I was pretty sure.

In any case, I spotted a card. No surprise there — we got a lot of Christmas cards. However, the recipient on the card was ‘A. Marshall,’ and the rest of the address had obviously been written by someone else. The return address was a P.O. Box in Chicago — also strange.

The whole thing had my senses on high alert. Without the different handwriting — and the ‘A.’ — it could’ve been a former school friend. But ... this was...

“Whatcha got there, bro?” Angie said, coming up behind me.

Wordlessly, I showed her the envelope. She frowned, immediately.

“That’s weird,” she said.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

“Um ... I ... should ... open it?”

I handed it over.

“I want you there. I have a weird feeling about it.”

“So do I,” I said.

We headed to her room. Mom was cooking dinner, Dad was at his desk doing ... some sort of paperwork ... so we weren’t likely to be interrupted.

She got out a letter opener and slit the top, then pulled out the card. The front said, “I am so very sorry” with a broken heart. The weird feeling intensified, and I think we both knew who it had to be from.

Angie tried to open it, and wound up dropping it on the floor. “You ... you open it,” she said, voice shaky. “I don’t know if I can.”

I picked it up and opened it. Inside, it started, “Words cannot express my guilt and shame at what I’ve done to you and who I’ve become.”

I blinked, looking at it. What I’d taken for printing was, instead, incredibly precise calligraphy. Quite a lot of time had been spent on making this card.

“I can’t possibly make it up to you, and most likely you’d be right to never let me try. But I am terribly, desperately sorry. I’ve learned many things, and one of them is that I must make amends if I can. The only thing that matters is that you are safe, and happy, and get to live the life you deserve to. You are so, so precious. I nearly destroyed that. I am grateful to those who stopped me from doing so.”

I blinked, twice, looking over to Angie, whose face was covered in tears. And shock.

I flipped the card over. “I am not allowed to write to you. You hold my fate in your hands. But ... things have already waited too long. I accept any consequence from sending this. Just be happy and know that I am so, so very sorry.”

It was signed with a single, elegant cursive S. Nothing else. The sender could always claim it was a forgery, a plant ... but I was certain it wasn’t, and so — judging from her tears — was Angie.

I got up and pushed the door closed, then hugged her tight, as she broke down in nearly silent sobs. It took her several minutes to recover.

“It’s ... it...”

I nodded.

“She...”

I nodded again.

“But ... I...”

This time I waited.

“I don’t ... what do I do with this?”

“Anything I say could be wrong, but I think ... I feel nearly certain ... that you need to accept it. That doesn’t mean open arms, or anything, but ... we’ve talked about forgiveness. I mean, that it’s good for you. Not trust, not anything like that, but forgiveness.”

“I ... it’s so hard.”

“I get that. Believe me, I do. I’ve struggled with forgiving my ex-wife, and she didn’t do anything nearly as bad.”

Angie blushed. “I’m not sure I agree.”

“No question in my mind. Oh, she made a mess out of me, but I was an adult and willingly accepted it. You were a helpless kid, and she...” I sighed, hesitating. “She failed utterly. Completely. Leaving you in harm’s way, and nearly...”

“Actually,” Angie said. “I have to admit that, I think. She got the original me in this universe killed, or thereabouts. That opened the door for me to come in and take residence.”

I bit my lip. “Well, now you’re ahead of me. I never thought of the ... original me, I guess... dying. But...”

“It explains it. We are who we are, now. We can remember things that other person did and saw and all, but neither of us are them. Not really. Not at all.”

“I ... well, there’s another session or two with Jane.”

“I know. Guilt trip! But I don’t think the universe killed ... us ... to make room. I think it took advantage of us already being dead.”

“I like that better.”

She looked back to the card. “And ... we really sidetracked. Um ... so ... I take it you think we shouldn’t rat her out?”

“I can’t imagine that she deserves that. Not if she’s sincere. And ... if she isn’t ... she put a lot of work into claiming that she is.”

“The first time she asks for anything, I’m out,” Angie said.

“Fair enough.”

“Except ... yeah. Forgiveness. She can ask for that.” She pointed to the card. “I know this. Amends. I know it fairly well.” She sighed. “I went to a lot of AA meetings in prison. An addict is an addict. I never made the amends I really wanted to. Mom and Dad, and you ... well, Iceberg Steve ... were the top of my list. Even though I don’t think Iceberg Steve could’ve processed it, I had to try.”

I nodded. “I caught that. I’ve never done them, but I know the terminology.”

“Figures that you would. I need to really think this through, but ... I think I can let her at least express her amends. And I can try to forgive. But we will have to be able to actually talk. Writing is cheap, even if you put a lot of work into it.”

“I am guessing she’s still in prison. And, most likely, she’ll get time added to her sentence if they find out she contacted you. And ... you’re a minor. You might not be able to consent. Mom and Dad might not even be able to consent on your behalf, given how she lost custody.”

“Sucks. Well ... we can look for a way. When we’re ready.”

“Ang...?”

“Yeah?”

“I think ... well. Take all the time you want. Talk to Jane. Talk to whoever you want. This has to be completely your decision. But, if you decide you can take even a tiny first step, send something to the P.O. Box. Doesn’t even need words, or a promise. Just something that says you’re not saying ‘no.’”

She bit her lip, hesitated, then nodded. “I ... see that. Yeah. It can’t be illegal or whatever for me to send something off to the P.O. Box. And someone is presumably checking it.”

“I’d bet her lawyer. Or ... no. Maybe a counselor or something. I mean, this is illegal, right? A lawyer could be disbarred, I think, but a counselor ... doctor-patient confidentiality would apply, and the law in question isn’t a mandatory reporting case. That’s what I’d guess. Jane can clarify that. Unless you want to get her in trouble, I think we owe it to her to not risk getting her in trouble. That means the reply card shouldn’t have your name or anything identifying.”

“I ... yeah. Makes sense. This is...” she said, sighing. “This is ... I’ve dreamed of hearing from her, but actually hearing from her is ... overwhelming.”

“Ang? What about Mom and Dad?”

“We can’t say anything yet. If we do, we need to wait at least a few days and then carefully sound them out.”

“Makes sense.”

“I’m calling Jane tonight, though.”

“I’d have been amazed if you didn’t.”

“She might call you.”

“Tell her to. This is now the most important thing in my evening.”

“You have History tomorrow.”

I shrugged. “I know it. I wasn’t going to study any more tonight. Cramming now won’t help.”

“Fair enough. Thanks, big brother.”

“Welcome, and you know I’d drop everything for you at any time you need it.”

“I know that. And ... I love it. I do.”

“You should take a shower before dinner. Easier to explain than your face, right now.”

She blushed. “Uh ... yeah. I might have a cold. You know. All sniffly.”

“You just might at that.”

She gave me a quick smooch. “Thanks, big brother.”

“Fifty-fifty it doesn’t fool Mom and she knows something has you upset. But that’s okay. If she gets that far, she’ll figure it’s something we’ll explain when it’s time.”

“Good point. Okay, shower time. Go! Fail to study history!”