Chapter 118: Easter Homecoming

Sunday, April 22, 1984

We all slept in a bit. Meg and Steffie had made it clear last night that we wouldn’t leave for breakfast until nine-thirty. That would probably put us back in Houston slightly later than we’d normally want to be, but no one really cared.

Gene was still asleep when I got up and showered, but he was up by the time I was done and stumbled into the shower himself. I had to laugh — Sue (I assumed Sue, anyway!) had put a hickey on his neck. I doubted anything beyond that had happened, but that was enough to set Gene up for a lot of ribbing.

It also made me think about Easter, in its own way. Yes, Gene hadn’t won anything big, nor had Sue — but they’d found each other. Gene would never know it, but Curtis had found a new life, at least relative to my first-life universe anyway. With that new life, Gene’s life had radically changed direction, too.

Perhaps things would have worked out with Gene and Sue anyway, even if we hadn’t been able to save Curtis, but I doubted it. Angie would’ve needed to tread more carefully — dumping your boyfriend right after his father was killed is probably a bad thing! — and, if my first life was any guide, Gene would’ve gone just slightly nuts. Very understandable, but not the sort of thing that might have endeared him to Sue.

We’d set out to make just one change: keep Curtis alive, and thereby save his family the pain of losing him. It wasn’t about making it easier for Angie to split with Gene (and thus be open to dating Paige), or changing where Gene went to college, and it certainly wasn’t to set him and Sue up. Nor was it to change who sat on the Fifth Circuit! Yet, we’d accomplished all of that.

One life saved; many others changed. Not directly connected to the meaning of Easter, but not entirely off-topic either.

And we had two ‘reborn’ people going to Nationals, one of whom didn’t in his first go-round, and the other who never even considered trying Debate or Drama in hers. That was more directly tied to our ‘rebirth.’ Along with that, we had, of course, inevitably displaced other people.

We’d done the right thing, I was certain, but everything has its consequence. Be careful of which butterflies you step on, lest you squash the wrong one — but how does one know which butterfly is which?

I tried to call home both before and after breakfast (which was at an IHOP), but (of course) no one was home. I hadn’t been expecting any different. It was Easter; Mom and Dad would be at church. I wouldn’t get them on the phone until noon or so at the earliest.

Everyone was, of course, extremely upbeat. Rowdy, even. We were nice enough to the IHOP staff, but we were likely louder than we usually were. I had no way to compare us to similar-sized groups of teenagers, though.

Meg and Steffie told all of us who were going to Nationals that we’d get together after school in mid-May to start planning. I was certain that it would be a very different sort of trip, but how different remained to be seen. We would likely be insisting on some things — but, then, Meg and Steffie knew that.

I wasn’t sure how much Cammie had told Meg. Meg certainly knew that something big had been wrong (and had a strong guess as to what), and that it was fixed now, but I didn’t know how much she knew for certain. It wasn’t my story to tell.

I had a feeling, though, that if Cammie’s parents had been a few seconds faster, if she’d landed wrong dropping from the bathroom window, or if the police had spotted her, this whole trip would’ve been dramatically different for so many reasons. Cammie’s absence would have been very conspicuous. Everyone would have felt it, and it would’ve gotten into everyone’s head.

On such little things, bigger things can pivot. ‘Outing’ Cal or Andy — or even leaving them closeted, but with little chance to be their true selves — and perhaps Memorial Football might not have become State Champions.

Or, suppose the Blunt Baggie Bandit had struck two days before the State Basketball Championship. Even with a clean test, would Calvin have been allowed to play?

Yet, here we were. Cal and Andy were State champions. Calvin was, too. And so were Cammie and I, and others, too.

Perhaps all of the others still would be, had Angie and I not appeared on the scene. I doubted it, though.

I doubted it very strongly.

We laughed and joked and sang songs and played games the whole way home. Steffie and Meg didn’t even try to shush us. If anything, they carried on as if they were our age.

In a way, perhaps they were. They say you’re as old as you feel, and in some ways that’s true. In years lived, I was older than either Meg or Steffie. My body was eighteen, though, while theirs were much older. But, sometimes, they could be part of the team, not set apart from and ‘over’ it. This was one of those times, and I hoped they enjoyed it as much as we did. Youth is sometimes wasted on the young. We would all happily share our happiness with those who’d devoted their lives to making it possible.

I’d very occasionally checked in with Meg over the years in my first life. Less than perhaps I should have, but we’d been in touch. I had to imagine we would do much better this time.

For one thing, it would be unthinkable not to invite Steffie (and her husband, of course) and Meg (and her spouse/partner/whatever, if she had one) to our wedding (assuming ‘our wedding’ happened as we imagined it, of course!) The same was undoubtedly true for Angie and Paige.

We had another month to go, but this was yet another ending in a long sequence of endings. It was perhaps less of one with ToC coming up next weekend, though. That would be the last tournament at which Steffie and Meg would be ‘in loco parentis’ for us seniors.

When we arrived at school, we had an expected surprise as well as a number of unexpected surprises.

The expected surprise was that Principal Riggs was waiting for us. We knew he’d be there, based on past years.

The somewhat unexpected surprises were the families of pretty much everyone who’d qualified for Nationals. The instant I saw that, my heart went out to Cammie. It’d be awful to have everyone else celebrating with their parents when she was conspicuously alone.

Oh, we’d all make sure she wasn’t alone, but it would hurt. One of many to come, sadly.

Everyone got a little teared up, I think — and I mean everyone, not just those who’d qualified for Nationals — but Cammie nearly broke down and pressed herself against Jas and me.

“I ... I...”

Jas and I both hugged her.

“I know,” I said. “Or, as much as I can know, I know.”

Jas said, “We all love you.”

Angie added her arms to the hug, and said, even softer, “I know, too ... different, but ... also ... you know ... and I’m always there if you want to talk.”

“I ... I know that...” Cammie said. “You said that, but...”

She sniffled hard.

“Okay ... maybe I need to. Not ... not right now.”

“Anytime,” Angie said, squeezing.

Paige got her arms around all of us — no mean feat — and just hugged, too.

After a couple of minutes — during which many of the group had left the bus — Cammie shook herself a bit and then wiped her eyes.

As she was collecting herself, I looked outside and got one more surprise. Cammie’s aunt Penelope and uncle David were there, and currently talking to — of all people — Mel, Morty and Mark. I’d expected Mel, but not Cammie’s relatives.

Cammie spotted my face, followed my gaze, then said, “Wait! That’s ... oh my God!”

Everyone else looked, eyes widening.

Cammie said, just above a whisper, “I felt like ... I mean, I have all of you, and you’re my family now, really, but ... everyone else ... I can’t believe they came! I mean, Mel, yes, but ... Aunt Penelope? Uncle David?”

“I can believe it,” I said.

“It’ll ... the house was one thing. Mo—”

She stopped, then said, “They will hold it against Aunt Penelope. Maybe Uncle David, too, but her for sure.”

“Then it’s particularly big that they’re here,” Angie said, softly. “Go say hi.”

“I ... I will!” Cammie said.

She got up, then turned.

“I mean it. You’re all family, and I love you all. The big lug most of all, but all of you.”

“We love you, too,” Angie said.

“Very much,” Jas said.

“You know I love you,” I said.

Paige grinned. “And me, too!”

Cammie headed off the bus, with the rest of us following.

Meg, who was already off the bus, tapped me on the shoulder as I got off.

“She’s okay?” Meg whispered.

“Much better,” I whispered back.

“Good!”

Angie had gotten to Mom and Dad first, so I hugged Mom as Angie hugged Dad. Then I hugged Dad.

“They spoiled your surprise,” Mom said, grinning.

“Rude!” Angie said, laughing.

“We’re so proud of you we could burst!” Mom said, crying and smiling at once.

“We are,” Dad said, and he had a few tears in his eyes, too.

“And we are so proud to be your kids,” Angie said. She said it just softly enough that Cammie would be unlikely to hear it. She would’ve understood, but ... well, thank God Penelope and David had come. I hated the thought of Cammie standing there lost in a crowd of happy kids hugging happy parents.

“We are,” I said. “We really are.”

That got both of them crying a bit more.

After another minute or two, we heard Principal Riggs clear his throat.

“I hate to break up the happy families, but if I might have a word...”

Everyone laughed and turned to face him.

“This has been one heck of a year for Memorial, and you are part of it, whether you’re the one bringing back a trophy or not. I’m very proud of all of you and I thank you for contributing so much of your time, energy, and talents to both your extracurricular activities and your studies! Ms. Ames and Ms. Smith have both made it abundantly clear that every one of you contributed and every one of you matters to the team’s success — and, if they hadn’t, I’d know it anyway! Thank you, and I hope each of you have a great rest of your year. Those of you who are going to Nationals — maybe you can bring back another trophy or two. It’s been a great year for our trophy case!”