Chapter 73: Proposals

Monday, January 17, 1983

I still thought Paige was a shoo-in for Study Group, but Angie hadn’t proposed it yesterday. It was just ... sitting there. Simmering. I suspected everyone felt it. I certainly did.

Both Drama and Debate had a party atmosphere. In Drama, it was tempered by needing to be at least a bit serious about ‘The Sound of Music’, while in Debate we pretty much just spent the day goofing off.

A bit after classes ended, those of us on Student Council took our places in the library, ready for another busy day of fun and excitement. That, or watching paint dry.

We started off with a bunch of committee reports. I was pretty sure Tony had put them in order so as to lull everyone into complacency. Social Committee was doing great, and so was Fundraising. Angie’s Academics committee had some initial reporting — teachers who might do well with some additional funding, and a few who wouldn’t — and Project Graduation was saving any more fireworks (if there were more) for another time. I suspected February, but wasn’t sure.

And ... that left Rules Review, of course. Cammie took center stage for that.

“Everyone, here’s where we stand. Principal Riggs is ... not thrilled with our recommendations.”

Heads nodded. While we supported them unanimously, we knew there would be push-back.

“We’ll get a few. The silly underwear rule, for one. He actually likes that one, because of how bad any teacher who enforces it looks. I mean ... wear underwear, everyone! Really! But the idea that teachers are checking out my underwear? Ew! No! Just... no!”

We all chuckled.

“Hair, though, and most of the clothes ... we’re going to tangle. I presented all of our research — how the Austin schools are doing, and a few Houston schools, and that arts academy up in Dallas — but he’s ... unconvinced. I think the School Board is a factor, I really do. Not that he’d ask them first, so much as ... he thinks they’ll be upset. I feel like we can get a decent compromise if he thinks he can sell it to the board, but otherwise? It’ll be tough going.”

In my head, I added in ‘Or, if the School Board is distracted.’ That seemed to be what Tony wanted, and ... perhaps I could make it happen. I glanced to Tony, and he gave me a little nod, which I took as permission to ... meddle. Of course, I’d check with Cammie, too.

We didn’t need everything this year. Perhaps a two-pronged strategy? Nudge Principal Riggs, nudge the School Board? Might be the best plan.

We all discussed Cammie’s report. The consensus was pretty much what I thought: keep pushing for the whole thing, but accept reasonable compromises.

After that, it turned into the usual: boring reports from interesting people. We’d improved that, but there were reasons for the structure. It kept everyone involved, even when they had very little to say.

Our next meeting would be on February 21st. No one wanted to put the Student Council meeting on Valentine’s Day, after all. Most of us had somewhere better to be.

Tuesday, January 18, 1983

Jasmine met me with one of her amazing kisses when I picked her up on the way to school. Just me — Angie was picking up Paige and wanted some alone time. I completely understood — she didn’t have the option of kisses at school, at least not outside of Drama and Debate. The world just kinda sucks that way.

Once we’d gotten going, she said, “I have a bit of news.”

“What’s up, honey?”

“Mama and Papa and I think we’ve found a good therapist to talk to about Impostor Syndrome. For now, that’s the only thing on the agenda, but I imagine we’ll get into some of the other issues from last summer. We’re going to start this Saturday.”

I reached over and gave her leg a little squeeze. “I’m happy for you. Talking to Jane has meant the world to us.”

“I still find it funny that you call her Jane, but then you’re close. I mean, both you and Ang are close to her. That’s good, just ... unusual. Or is it?”

“It probably is. It just ... evolved. It’s maybe easier to just think of her as a friend — since, mostly, she is a friend — rather than someone ... official, I guess is the word? She’s really just giving us advice. I still have to watch Impostor Syndrome, and a few other things, and then I’m helping Ang.”

“Yeah, and ... sometimes I’m amazed that she’s so strong and together and unstoppable. If I’d had my father die and then had a horrible ... whatever you call her ... take me and almost get me raped and killed, I think I’d be a wreck!”

“She had a hard time there,” I said. “She covered it up really well for a long time because she just wanted to settle in. As we got to know each other better, more and more of the real Angie came out, but it took both Candice’s crisis and then Angie’s thing with Max to fully bring things out. Fortunately, those happened in the right order so that we already knew Jane.”

The funny thing was, that was all literally true. It omitted some major facts, but nothing was a lie, nor even much of a spin on the truth (besides those pesky facts I couldn’t mention, anyway).

Jas nodded. “I love her, you know. Not like I love you, but ... not unlike how I love you. I’d say like a sister, but ... well, maybe like an, um ... best friend ... considering.”

“You’re ahead of us there,” I said, chuckling.

“You’ll catch up. I see you two. It’ll happen. So much self-control! But it’s for a really good cause. If things with Andrew would’ve upset Mama and Papa, we could’ve waited.” She stopped, then blushed. “Well... he could’ve, and he could’ve convinced me it was for the best, too. And I’d have agreed. Just ... not right away.”

“Whether or not it does, I’m glad you and Angie are close.”

“Me, too! And with your parents, and you with Mama and Papa, and ... just ... all of it. That makes such a big difference.”

“Yeah,” I said. “It does, and I feel very lucky, and very grateful. It makes me sad for people like Cammie and Mel. They should have that, too. At least Mel’s brothers are fully on board, and likely her parents will be okay, when it comes out. Cammie ... I just have to hope that, one day, they see the light.”

“Me, too. So much.”

I took about fifteen minutes after school to meet with Tom Myerson and discuss my approach to Principal Riggs. In general, he agreed with me, but gave me a few pointers on how to best approach things. Pretty much, we both agreed: Principal Riggs was a politician, in effect if not in name. He had to please the School Board, which was mostly accomplished by pleasing parents and having great metrics like college placements and National Merit Scholarships, plus avoiding bad metrics like arrests and disruptions and lawsuits and such. Anything that made him look good was going to appeal to him. Anything that might make him look bad would be a risk. There would have to be a commensurate reward, even if we could show that the risk was minimal, or he wouldn’t bite.

We had some rewards we could point to, and some potential compromises he might not be envisioning. A win here would move the needle just a bit on the balance of ‘liberal’ versus ‘conservative’. Those terms — even in 1982 — were inadequate to really capture the situation, and from my 2020s perspective were even farther off the mark, but they would do for now. A loss here would just mean we’d regroup and be back next year, which would make no one happy.

I thanked Tom for his help, and also assured him that, yes, I would absolutely be in his classes next year. There was no way I’d miss out on them, of course.

Angie made it official: she was nominating Paige for Study Group. She wasn’t using ‘Girlfriend Rules’, but the implication was clear. Some of the group didn’t know Paige that well, but everyone knew of her, and — in general — knew she’d fit in. Those of us who did made that clear.

We didn’t vote her in right away, but it wasn’t going to be a month-long process, not with the dearth of new members over the last year. Everyone had a week to think on it, and then we’d likely waive the waiting period and vote Paige in. I’m sure Paige understood the process and would be fine with it.

I was glad Angie had gone for it. It was another step for her, a step of bringing Paige more fully into our circle. They already knew she was dating a girl, but this solidified it just a bit more. In turn, the hardest part of that for her was telling herself that she was dating a girl not named Carrie.

Perhaps I’d gotten the easier path, in the end, even if I hadn’t seen it at first. I had my issues from my marriage, but we’d gotten the divorce. We’d actually separated. I’d started — tentatively, maybe poorly, but started — to move on.

Angie hadn’t. She’d been pulled away from the woman she loved, the woman she was hoping to build a life with. It couldn’t be easy to start over. Seen through that lens, Dan was clearly always temporary, and so was Gene. With Dan, I hadn’t known it, because I hadn’t known the real Angie. With Gene, I think perhaps we’d all known it at some level.

Max had been the wild card. He could’ve been a contender if he wasn’t who he was. But, he was, and there was no fixing that.

We talked about it on the way home — both on the way to Jasmine’s and on the way home. Jasmine was happy for Angie and Paige. Just as I’d become Jasmine’s most significant relationship ever, it was Jasmine’s opinion that Angie was Paige’s most significant relationship ever, too. I suspected she was right.

That didn’t mean Paige would be devastated if there was a breakup, just that Paige was growing up and testing the waters of a real relationship. It helped that, just as I was, Angie was fine with it being an open relationship. I suspected Gene might be the only guy, in the end, and I also suspected those days were numbered. It wasn’t impossible that that number was already zero. Who knew? Probably not even Angie or Gene.

Jas and I planned a date night for tomorrow. It’d been too long, and we needed it. It wasn’t as if we didn’t see each other nearly every day, but that wasn’t the same as a date.

Once I’d dropped Jas off, Ang and I talked about things we just couldn’t share with Jas.

“So...” I said.

“So...?” she said, then grinned. “I know what you mean. Yes. I meant it the way everyone heard it.”

“Again ... so?”

“Yes, I’m open to this working. She’s not just a placeholder for Carrie. I have no way to find Carrie. If this universe is similar enough, I know exactly where to find her: Gatesville, Texas, in 1991. But, if that’s right, it’s obviously too late — she’ll be in the slammer for years, and some girl chasing her on the outside would be...”

“Inexplicable.”

“Yeah. It’d be crazy. Believe me, I’ve thought it through. Over, and over, and over again. If there was a way to make it work, I’d ... well, hell, I don’t know what I’d do. Put my life on hold for eight years, then however long it’d take to get her out of prison? Could I do that? See ... it’s all fucked up. If she was an option it’d be like Max, I think. No stopping me. But, she’s not, and I get that. At least, I tell myself that.”

“Sis...”

“Nah. Don’t get too worked up. I’m okay, I really am. She’s like your kids. I love her, but she’s in another universe, and hopefully doing well.”

“You know you’ve always got a shoulder when you need one.”

She sighed and smiled. “I know, and that makes such a big difference. I ... I’d have managed if it was just me. But ... thriving? That takes us.”

“Still, if anything is getting in the way of thriving...”

“I know who to ask, of course. Always.”

“Good. Love you, Ang.”

“Love you, too, Steve.”

Wednesday, January 19, 1983

I’d checked early in the day and made an informal appointment with Principal Riggs after school. Once Debate was over, I left Jas with a hug and a kiss and headed for the offices. She and Ang were planning to wait in the library, which stayed open for a bit (unless Student Council kicked everyone out, anyway).