Chapter 5

I wasn’t sure what grandpa was thinking. His first move, before we even pulled away from the trailer, was just plain stupid. Trish was to have the window seat right behind him and I was to be in the other window seat, on the other side of the car. Dave, all 220 lbs of him, was between us.

I knew that my opinion wouldn’t matter so I didn’t voice it, but I also knew that this arrangement couldn’t last. I was right — before we’d even made it out of Colorado, Dave was sick as a dog. Grandpa and grandma both knew that he suffered from motion sickness — they’d known it for years — but they continued to try it for the rest of the first day and we had to keep stopping to let Dave’s stomach settle down. I don’t know if common sense prevailed or if my grandfather’s obsession with getting miles in was the key; either way, that was the end of that experiment. The rest of the trip would see me in the middle, usually holding hands with, and leaning against, Trish.

The adults had given a lot of thought to sleeping arrangements, of course. Their first try wasn’t even too bad. If we were in a motel Trish got the second bed while Dave and I were in sleeping bags on the floor. This would have worked fine for the entire trip if Dave had been a more reasonable person, but in my mind I can only connect ‘Dave Larson’ and ‘reasonable person’ by using a negation.

As it was, after only a couple of days in motels he was in a snit about always being on the floor. For some reason this made Trish feel guilty. It just made me want to grab a tire iron and beat some sense into him. The eventual solution was to have Trish and me in sleeping bags — unfortunately not the same sleeping bag — with Dave getting the second bed. After we got that settled Trish and I would usually talk quietly to each other about what we’d seen that day for a while each evening, then go to sleep. Holding hands.

Other than those issues the trip went well, much better than it did on my first timeline. Dave and I didn’t try to kill one another. Grandpa and grandma treated Trish like she was their own granddaughter. Trish and Dave were, as always, civil but distant and the western United States was spectacular.

Back then you could still camp in a tent pretty much anywhere in Yellowstone. Grandpa had a huge old canvas umbrella tent that we’d always used when we were camping with them and it easily accommodated the five of us. From our base camp near Tower Falls we went all over the park. A good part of one day was spent near Old Faithful and the basin there. Morning Glory and the other hot pools were always more fascinating to me than the geysers so I spent a lot of time out on the boardwalks. With Trish, of course. Holding hands. It was her first time in Yellowstone, though, so we did make sure we were near the geyser when it erupted. On the other hand, it wasn’t my first time so I made sure we were upwind.

We fished the Yellowstone River just below Tower Falls and had fried cutthroat trout for dinner one night. The next day we fished the Madison for a couple of hours in the afternoon and had rainbow trout for dinner. Trish tried her hand at fishing but it didn’t hold her interest. She did help to clean the fish, though, so she felt she was contributing to dinner.

Three nights in Yellowstone was about all that grandpa’s heart and lungs could handle — the elevation would eventually make him really sick — so we headed out toward Glacier on the fourth day. We actually ended up spending the night with my paternal grandparents in Kalispell, MT, rather than paying for another motel.

Grandpa and Grandma Larson were welcoming enough but I could tell that they weren’t sold on having Trish on this trip. Their attitude might have had something to do with my having been caught playing doctor with my cousin when I was eight — in their house. Trish slept indoors while Dave and I were shuffled out to cots in the garage. It wasn’t bad, but I was glad it was only for one night.

The next day saw us up early to hit Going to the Sun road in the morning — from the west. Spectacular! From his window seat Dave spotted an eagle making lazy circles. The only thing that makes this noteworthy was that he was looking down on the eagle.

Late the following day we pulled into Tacoma and one of life’s awkward moments. I took it upon myself to introduce my mother to her ex-husband’s new wife’s youngest daughter. Mom was almost too polite which made Trish uncomfortable. That lasted until I got her to the side and explained that that was just the way my mother was and she was actually trying to put Trish at her ease. I’m not sure that Trish believed me, but it was true, my mother was always over the top when trying to be nice to someone.

Dave spent the next two days almost exclusively with mom. I spent some time with her as well, but I had spent enough time with her older self in my previous timeline that I didn’t really feel any connection to the woman we were visiting.

Tacoma’s infamous aroma was in full force while we were there. It would eventually be mostly eliminated by changes at the old Kraft pulp mill, but even 35 years later it would still surface when the conditions were right – or maybe ‘wrong’ is the better word. The whole city looked rundown. Over the next 20 years that would change a lot, but I suppose when I think of Tacoma it will always be the armpit of the Pacific Northwest.

I suggested a trip up to ‘The Mountain’, but, as expected, I was shot down. Mt Rainier is beautiful, though. Not having it in my backyard was going to be the only thing that I was sure I’d regret if I managed to stay in Denver when the purge came. Oh well, you can’t have everything. All I had to do was look at the pretty girl, and wonderful person, standing next to me to quit worrying about Rainier.

From Tacoma we headed south to Portland to visit one of grandma’s sisters and her husband. From there we went still further south to San Diego, to visit her one remaining brother. He had recently retired from the Navy after more than 30 years, as a full Commander. In my previous timeline this would be my only meeting with my Uncle Ted. In this life I’d try to get out to San Diego again before he died in 1992.

From San Diego we crossed to Phoenix where we stayed a couple of days with grandpa’s oldest son from his first marriage and his family. James Jr. and his wife were nice. Their girls were about my age, one older and one younger, and tried to flirt with me. Trish took it all in fun but there was a certain possessiveness in how she held my hand while we were there.

From Phoenix we headed up to the Grand Canyon — knowing as we did that we wouldn’t be staying very long because of grandpa’s problems with high altitudes. The Grand Canyon of the Colorado — as opposed to the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone that we’d seen earlier — was one of the greatest spectacles I’d seen in either timeline. I visited Hell’s Canyon on my previous timeline but, though I know it’s nominally deeper, it just doesn’t compare for grandeur.

We went back to Phoenix for a couple of days to give grandpa time to recover and then headed back to Colorado.

The only things of real interest on the remainder of the trip were the cliff dwellings at Mesa Verde. Grandpa and grandma weren’t in any shape to explore but Trish and I visited everything we could get to. Even Dave came alive here; the future anthropologist buried under all that lard was apparently trying to make his presence felt.

Back home we spent a couple of days catching up with everyone and telling them about our trip then settled down to enjoy the summer.

Trish and I had originally thought about trying to do some lawn mowing when we got back but my father had warned us that most people who weren’t going to do their own lawns would already have someone lined up before July, so we bagged that idea for the summer. Instead we did a lot of reading — I’d finally gotten a copy of The Lord of the Rings just before we left so I was reading it again — swimming or laying around by the pool and working out.

I was happily surprised at how nicely Trish was filling out when I saw her in her swimsuit for the first time that summer. She’d never be busty – probably no more than a B cup – but her hips were flaring a little and her butt was just perfect. I’d started to grow some as well and for the first time she noticed junior when he saluted her. She just caught my eye and winked.

Our physical relationship was close to perfect during that time. We were constantly touching and hugging, but there was almost no sexual undertone to our affection. I’m sure we both knew we’d get there when the time was right but for the rest of the summer of 1973 I was content with simply being the closest of friends without having to worry about complications from getting all hot and sweaty. It seemed that Trish was content as well, which was good. I’d had to deal with girls who wanted to move faster than I did before, and it had always ended badly.

I was more than a little nervous on the first day of classes that year. I wasn’t worried about the course work but I was worried about how the bullies would take to me and my friends. It wasn’t a problem during and between classes but we got some stares at lunch — particularly when I pulled out Trish’s chair for her. Trish’s friends had eaten at our place often enough that they were used to our little act, but I think every other table in our section of the lunchroom, maybe for three or four tables around us, went completely silent.

Into that silence a girl at one of the other tables was heard to say, “Wow! That is so cool!”

That comment caused the people at one of the other tables to start laughing and the tension was relieved — at least for that day.

A boy that I’d never met leaned over from an adjacent table and asked me, “Is she your girlfriend or something?”

Trish and I both laughed a little at that. “Or something,” Trish said. “Really, I’m his stepsister and he’s my best friend. He’s been doing that since the first time we met. I don’t quite know why, but I kind of like it.”

“And that is one of the reasons why — you like it,” I replied. “That first time I was simply trying to make a good impression. I noticed, though, that you seemed to like it and so I kept it up. On the other hand, you never take it for granted and you won’t wait by your chair like some women I’ve seen in restaurants, trying to force the guy to help seat her. If you get there first you sit down. I like that!”

The girl who had first commented on how cool it was looked over at Trish and asked, “Uh, if he’s not your boyfriend, would you mind if I grab him?”

If looks could kill that girl would have been pushing up daisies. Trish replied, in her frostiest voice, “I’m not Jeff’s keeper. He can make his own choices about girlfriends.”

I hadn’t always had the best instincts when dealing with women but I suspected my sweet stepsister wanted some reassurance at that point so I looked directly at her and gave her my most sincere smile while answering the other girl.

“No, you can’t ‘grab him’,” I said. “I’m not up for grabs. It’s true that Trish isn’t my girlfriend, but that’s mostly because I’m only twelve and I think it might bother our parents. I’m pretty sure she knows she’s the only girl that I’m interested in.”

Once again, Trish’s friends had been around us enough that this was no surprise. The other tables were all atwitter, though. Pretty much everyone seemed to be shocked at my age, particularly when it came out that I’d just turned twelve the previous month. Most of the girls also seemed to think that my statement was “Sooo romantic.” That was fine by me. I was only worried about the light that came to Trish’s eyes when I said it.