Chapter 30: Drying Out

Friday, August 19, 1983

When we got up, Dad was going over some paperwork at his desk, and Mom was making a shopping list. The TV was back on and showing the news. They believed all of the downed power lines were cleared and all major roads were passable, but still recommended people stay home in general.

Most stores were open, but some weren’t, and the police were on the lookout for looters, burglars, and the like. No surprise there. Many people had fled Houston for motels further inland and there would be empty houses and stores (in some cases in very dark areas at night) for criminals to plunder.

The school districts had gotten together and promised an update on Sunday, once they’d assessed any damage and determined whether they would have sufficient teachers. It sounded like they would either all open or all remain closed. I assumed they would stick to that, but it was possible that a few bigger districts might go their own way.

During my first life, I’d processed this mostly as any other teenager would. Oh, I was quite studious, and I’d been less reluctant than many to go back, but I was still looking at it as a high school student.

Now? I could see the pressure on the districts from all different directions. Open too soon, with insufficient staff or things preventing students from arriving, and you’d get off track. Some classes would be behind others; some students would be behind others. In an extreme case, the school would just be a place for busywork.

On the other hand, any delay meant parents whose kids were too young to be left alone couldn’t go to work. That might delay other businesses reopening, might leave important things understaffed, and so forth. The ‘day care’ aspect of schools couldn’t be ignored.

My bet was Wednesday. That’s when I thought they’d re-opened last time.

Angie and I made it all the way to eleven before proposing a reconnaissance mission throughout the surrounding area. Mom and Dad didn’t have a problem with it, which somewhat surprised me, though I knew I’d done exactly the same thing my first go-round. They just wanted us to stay safe, drive slowly, avoid any downed power lines like the plague, and not get into any deep water. Those all made perfect sense, so we agreed quickly.

As was almost always true, I drove. Angie was happy enough to drive when she needed to. When she didn’t, I drove. That’d been the pattern with my ex-wife, too. Jasmine definitely was happier with someone else driving. I was trying to make sure that I wasn’t just taking away their driving fun unknowingly, but I couldn’t find any sign of that.

We drove around our neighborhood first, doing everything slower than usual. One house had minor damage to the carport, but that was it. There were some partially cut-up trees that had formerly blocked driveways or the street, but that was it.

Getting out onto Memorial, things looked completely normal. We only stayed on there a few blocks, then headed onto smaller streets.

We saw the first damaged house about halfway down the street. A tree had smashed the roof and a second-floor room of one of the bigger houses. A crew was out working on it. I hated to think of how much water damage might have happened. It wouldn’t be anything compared to Hurricane Harvey, decades in the future, but it could still be bad.

After that, we saw a bunch of very polite downed trees. Trees that had fallen a foot from a house, or a car, or a garage, or whatever. It was as if there had been a force field around anything of value. We saw at least a dozen near misses between our house and school without a single thing of value actually hit besides that first house.

I had to laugh when we got to Memorial. It was exactly as I’d remembered.

Angie looked over. “What’s so funny?”

“Look,” I said, nodding towards the school.

There was a pickup driving back and forth through the flooded parking lot. Every so often it bounced up as it drove over a raised sidewalk or a parking space marker. Behind it were two kids on wake-boards.

“Really?!” Angie said.

“I remember this from my first go-round. These might be the same ones, or maybe more did it. That parking lot will take at least another day or two to dry out.”

“I hope they’re not breaking anything, like the sidewalks or anything. If they break their car, I’ll laugh.”

“I don’t remember any damage of note.”

“Good!”

We made it as far as the mall, which was open and mostly seemed fine. One large window was boarded over, though.

On our way back, we stopped at Jasmine’s and hung out for half an hour. Jas went with us to Paige’s, where we hung out for another half an hour. Paige’s parents both seemed happy to see us. They’d clearly at least come to terms for now with Angie and Paige being a thing. I had no idea if they were hoping it was temporary or if they’d stay fine if this became long-term. Perhaps they didn’t know, either.

We dropped Jas off after that, planning to get together tomorrow, and then went home. Mom and Dad wanted to hear everything about our outing. Mom decided she’d be fine going to the grocery store tomorrow, and Dad said he might want to get out and look around, too.

Church was on for Sunday, which I thought was a good thing. People would welcome the comfort of seeing their friends safe.

We settled in my room just after Mom and Dad went to bed. Angie brought out the note she’d gotten from Sharon. I picked it up and read:

I’m sorry that it took me so long to write back. I had to think through what you wrote, especially the first two sentences. My therapist helped me understand what you were really saying. Sometimes I still fixate on the negatives and try to escape, instead of seeing that the truth is positive.

I’m supposed to be kept from news about you, but they didn’t realize you would be in the papers. I was amazed, and pleased, to see what you and your now-brother did. Everyone noticed that I was doing better, but only my therapist, and now you, know why.

I feel less lost today. I’ve been able to contact some others that I’ve wronged, but you are the one who matters the most. The one who I owed the most to, but who I wronged more than anyone else. The best decision I ever made was to get out of the way. I should have done it far sooner.

Thank you, again, for allowing me this chance to correspond. I look forward to hearing from you.

With love, though I know I’m only now just beginning to understand what love means,

S

As before, I read it a few times before looking at Angie. Her eyes were slightly damp, which told me a lot about how she felt.

“I...” she said, then cleared her throat. “I hated her, and ... I was right to! But I can’t hate her now. Not unless ... not unless she’s just manipulating me. I don’t think she is, though.”

I nodded. “It doesn’t feel that way to me. Or ... well ... my cynical side says that she is, but only in the way that people almost always want other people to like them, so they try to present themselves in the best light.”

Angie had started a little when I said ‘or’, but smiled by the end. “Okay, that’s fair. I’m fine with her doing that. To me, the two sides of the coin are ... well...” She stopped, sighed, then continued, “First, I’ve been there and done that. I know it’s possible to hit bottom, recover, realize what a total mess you’ve made of your life and others’ lives, and try your best to make amends and fix your life. Then, second, addicts are brilliant at lying to themselves and damn good at lying to other people. She may completely think she’s sincere and still be a lying no-good jerk. It happens. If so, though...” she said, then paused and shook her head. “I was going to say that she’ll know it means no more chances, but she won’t care because she’ll lie to herself about the odds of getting found out.”

“I’m just hoping that either she’s completely sincere, or she’s sincere enough that time and repetition can get her the rest of the way.”

“Me, too. You know how I felt about her. At the same time ... I mean, she’s me, right? Half of me, anyway? I want her to have a chance. There’s got to be good in her. It’s ... well, it’s not like Laura, but ... kinda. You have in you what Asshole Steve had in him. I have in me what Bitch Angie had in her. Also, your first-life Angie ... um ... Unredeemed Angie? But we’re not those people. Maybe, inside Sharon, there’s Good Sharon, like I’ve found Good Angie. Or, at least, cutely bratty Angie. Good Sharon could make a real difference.”

“Makes sense, but then of course it does.”

She grinned. “Yeah, I’m smarter than I thought I was, too. Anyway, so ... I wrote back. It’s as much a holding action as anything. We can’t do anything about this until next summer. I still want to tell Mom and Dad, but I think we can wait until summer.”

“That makes sense to me. I really don’t think they’ll fault you.”

“Me, neither, but ... I love them in a way that I’ll never love Sharon, even if she becomes Really Good Sharon,” she said, tearing up, which caused me to wrap my arms around her. “They’ve put up with me when I was a bitch in my first life and embraced me when I told them I was dating Paige this time. They’ve just... been there for me. Always! Even when they got tired of me, they weren’t ... gone. They just pulled back a bit to avoid another disappointment. I still think, given time, they would’ve welcomed me back, and welcomed Carrie, too.”

I gave her another gentle squeeze. “They’re the best parents I could’ve asked for. Twice. Enough said.”

She sniffled, smiled, and handed me the note.

“Here. Take it before I get it all sniffly. It’s not supposed to be a tear-soaked note!”

I read:

Thank you for writing back, too. It’s okay that it took a while. Please, take the time you need. From what I’m told, and from some of my own experiences and those of my close friends, I know that recovering can take its own time and can’t be rushed or even predicted.

I didn’t mean to make you upset. I’m glad your therapist helped. Mine has helped me a great deal.

I’m glad you read about us in the paper. I’m sure they know what they’re doing in keeping news of me from you, but I’m also glad that you know for certain that I’m happy and doing well.

There is still so much more to be said, but this isn’t the time. We both know that. I’ll be awaiting your next note.

Take care of yourself. Sometimes the best way to do that is to find others to help. Maybe you can do that.

You are not lost. You just took a very bad detour.

A

“What do you think?” Angie asked when I’d finished.

“I think it’s as good as you think it is, sis. It works for me, but it only needs to mean something to you and to Sharon.”

She sighed, smiled, and hugged me.

“Thanks! That’s what I wanted, really. I’m afraid to put my heart out there, but I’m more afraid not to. I won’t ever forget, but I can forgive, and ... maybe ... even embrace. She’s not a threat to me, not anymore. Not physically, and not really even emotionally. Whatever happens, I’ll have you, and Mom and Dad, and Jas, and hopefully Paige.”

“I love you, sis. Always and forever.”

“Forever and always, big bro.”

We hugged, smooched, and then got ready for bed, quiet for the moment. What needed to be said tonight had been said.

Saturday, August 20, 1983

Angie, Jas, Paige, and I headed to the mall for lunch and some shopping. So, I think, did half of the west side of Houston. It was crowded, by which I mean nearly ‘Black Friday’ (in the 2000s, not the 1980s) crowded. People were everywhere!

We decided it was too much about fifteen minutes in, but didn’t wind up leaving until over two hours later. The reason was simple: everyone was here. We bumped into Cammie, Linda, Darla and her parents, Mel, Morty, and Mark and their parents, Connie and Jimmy, Jess (with several cheerleaders in her entourage), Calvin and Megan, Anne, and Amit, Sheila, and Jaya.