Chapter 158: Family Tensions

Monday, July 2, 1984

We met the parents at the Hilton, had breakfast there, and then headed down to the museum in two cars. The museum itself was as good as I remembered. Unlike some previous trips, we all stayed together the entire time. Mom and Dad seemed to really enjoy having this time together with us (including Jasmine and Paige) and we didn’t want to mess with that.

We had lunch at the Museum’s cafeteria and headed to Chinatown for dim sum for dinner. Three years made a difference — while I didn’t think they’d ever gone out for dim sum as a couple, Mom and Dad were veterans now and knew what they liked, and even knew the names of some of the dishes.

Thankfully, the question of ‘how do you two know about dim sum’ was long since dealt with. I suspected that, if Dad considered it at all, the question might be more problematic now than it was three years ago, because now he might see a long list of things we knew that perhaps we shouldn’t have.

Overall, it was a great day. I wasn’t sure if there would be many more quite like it. Perhaps, and perhaps not. The trips to Chicago would slow or cease within a few years. This could be nearly the last if we started taking summer classes and couldn’t afford the time.

Or, perhaps not. The future is unclear, even for those of us for whom a version of the future is also the past.

We split up after Chinatown. By the time we got back to the RV it was fairly late, and I’m sure Mom and Dad went right to bed.

We hung out for a bit, just talking, but went to bed fairly early, too. Tomorrow might be the calm before the storm. If, in fact, there was a storm at all.

Tuesday, July 3, 1984

We got up around eight. Paige took the lead on breakfast, cooking scrambled eggs and bacon for us. I had some muesli, Angie had half a grapefruit, and everyone had yogurt.

Most important meal of the day, right?

None of it was in that large a quantity, not with Grandmother’s favorite French restaurant for lunch. It had apparently been a bit of a struggle to get her to agree to lunch, but it was honestly better for her — she admitted to having a much better appetite at lunch, and so did Professor Berman — and they hadn’t been open on Monday. We could have made Sunday work, but today was better for everyone.

Grandmother, however, believed in grand dinners, and this would not be one of those. Sadly, but I thought it would still be a good time.

We all met at the cottage, then drove behind Dad to the restaurant. Grandmother looked a bit better this morning, which might be because Professor Berman looked a bit better, too. I suspected he was pushing himself to be fine for this visit, and might pay for it later, but I also thought that talking to us had taken a load off his mind. He’d gotten closer to us over the summer than anyone had expected, and with that came the desire that we understand how he was feeling. Talking with us had eased his heart.

It had eased mine, too, and Angie’s. And Jasmine’s, and Paige’s, but they (of course) had a different perspective on it. Angie and I had each lost him once, but neither of us had known what we were losing that time. Now, we did, and both of us felt badly about not having taken the time to get to know him in our first lives.

Of course, had we been people who would’ve spent time trying to get to know our elderly grandfather who we seldom saw, most likely a lot of other things would’ve gone differently, and we wouldn’t be the people we were now. That would always be part of the story of our lives: that our first-life mistakes could themselves be considered ‘for the best.’

Lunch was fun. The restaurant was at least a few degrees less stuffy and formal at lunch, which wasn’t to Grandmother’s liking, but suited the rest of us just fine. I think she realized that and made the best of things, enjoying our enjoying things.

As before, she wanted Jasmine’s opinion on everything. That made me happy. By this point, there was no question that Jasmine and I were ‘serious,’ and we had Grandmother’s tacit blessing. I had no idea if she’d downplayed our relationship in her thoughts last year, but this year she wasn’t.

She wasn’t downplaying Angie and Paige, either. Grandmother used the word ‘girlfriend’ toward Paige twice, and seemed to mean it affectionately. I, of course, had no idea what she had previously thought about it, but either she had been fine with it or Allan had convinced her to be fine with it. That, or it was simply an exception for her favorite (and only) granddaughter.

I still suspected that, by far, the reason Grandmother was still doing well, and quite possibly the primary reason Allan was still alive, was Angie coming to live with us in Houston as young as she did and doing as well as she did. Frank’s death and Angie’s troubles had hit Grandmother extremely hard in my first life, and I think it’d been nearly as bad in Angie’s, and her struggles had in turn been very stressful for Allan. Oh, Angie had graduated Memorial, and had been nominally on a good path, but there were no big moments to share. No trophies, no scholarships, none of that.

For a woman who’d had only sons, only one of whom had had a daughter, that daughter was especially precious. On top of that, Frank had always been Grandmother’s favorite. Everyone knew that. The others didn’t even mind — Frank had been their favorite brother, too.

Angie, of course, had her own reasons to do well. She hadn’t done it for Grandmother, but it had made an enormous difference. A difference that had come around to give us time with Allan, time that mattered to all of us.

We lingered over dessert a while, talking about our plans, but soon enough it was time to go. Dad wanted to get to Stevens Point before dark, and I didn’t disagree, not with the RV to park and get settled.

Even so, we lingered a bit in the parking lot, talking and saying our goodbyes. Then, at the cottage, we lingered even longer, saying goodbye yet again. The subtext was right there, unspoken but heard by everyone: this might be the last time we said goodbye in person to Allan. It could be the last time for Grandmother.

Of course, it could be the last time for any of us. Traffic accidents happen, as do a myriad other ways to lose one’s life. But the obvious focus was on Allan, with his recent stroke and slowly failing health.

Eventually, of course, we made ourselves leave. After hooking up the Subaru, I got us to the mall near the Hilton — the one Angie and I had walked to, long ago — and met up with Dad. The mall parking lot was much easier on the RV than the Hilton’s would have been.

With me in the lead, we headed off to Stevens Point. It made sense for me to lead, given the RV. Of the two of us, I was always going to drive slower. If we were both in cars, Dad would have led.

The drive itself was uneventful. We made the usual disdainful faces at Wisconsin Dells, which seemed just that much more tacky and artificial this time, but otherwise enjoyed the scenery. Paige and Jasmine were more at home this time, both from having been here and from knowing the people we were driving toward. They’d weathered Aunt Helen before, after all.

That, and our relationships had grown over the past year. Both couples had overcome the strain of our revealing the truth. Angie and Paige had gone from being a fairly new couple to having been together a while, and coming out together at Prom. All of that made a difference. Aunt Helen couldn’t hold a candle to that, no matter how negative she might be.

If she knew the truth of our relationships, I hoped she would hold her tongue, at least for the sake of my cousins and Uncle Tim. But, if she didn’t, we would be ready. Not to fight back, but to take it and laugh.

When we got to Stevens Point, we got settled in the RV park (with connections, thankfully!) and then headed over to see Mom and Dad. We had dinner with them at the sandwich place where Mom and Dad might (or perhaps might not) have had their first date, then went back to the RV and hung out for a couple of hours.

Jas and I didn’t go right to sleep, and the walls were plenty thin enough that we knew Angie and Paige hadn’t gone right to sleep, either. We didn’t stay up super-late, though, and neither did they.

Wednesday, July 4, 1984

We had breakfast in the RV. Our plan was to meet Mom and Dad at ten, pick up Grandma, and be at Uncle Tim and Aunt Helen’s by eleven. Uncle Ryan and Aunt Colleen were planning to be there, along with (hopefully) their children and their children’s families. I wasn’t sure how many of my other cousins would be there. Some, but not all, I suspected.

After we’d eaten, we met Mom and Dad and drove together with them to Grandma’s house.

That ... could’ve gone better. It could’ve gone worse, too, but it definitely could’ve gone better.

Grandma greeted Mom by saying, “Why, Agnes! It’s been ages! It’s so good to see you!”

Mom said, gently, “I’m Helen, Ma.”

“Nonsense! Helen and Tim were here just Monday. I’d know her anywhere!”

“Your daughter, Helen.”

Grandma blinked twice. “Why, it’s been years, but you are Helen, aren’t you?”

She hugged Mom tightly.

“Oh, I’ve missed you! Wherever have you been?”

“I’m living in Houston, Ma, but we talked a few weeks ago.”

Grandma looked confused. “I’m sure I would’ve remembered that!”

Angie, Jas, and I exchanged glances. For me, well ... it wasn’t that I hadn’t expected this. I just hadn’t expected it to hit with full force this fast.

The conversation improved from there, but it was slow going. Once reminded of us, Grandma understood who we were, but she gave us all the wrong names at first. That is, except for Jasmine, who seemed to just confuse her. I doubted Grandma knew many Vietnamese girls to fall back on.