Thanks, I'll Need It
Summary: When Teddy made those videos, she had no idea how much fourteen-year-old Charlie would resent her for it.
"Good luck, Charlie."
And another DVD ends. Automatically, I pop the disc out of the player, reach for another one, any one, push it in, and press play. As usual, I recognize the video from the first moment, and sure enough, Teddy and her old friend Ivy excitedly tell me I'm about to take my very first steps.
Not for the first time, I think about the total irony of the situation. My family paid so much attention to me back then, that my big sister even tried to video tape my first solid poop. But now...she's so busy with her career as a broadcast journalist, I'm lucky if I get a call once a week. A part of me understands, but...it's hard not to feel neglected.
If she hadn't made these videos, I'd think sometimes that she doesn't care about me at all. But that's difficult to believe when I see how much she doted on me back then. It just seems impossible. So every time she doesn't pick up her cell phone when I really need to talk to her, I remind myself that she doesn't mean anything by it...and put in another video.
Really, these videos are my therapy, my constant comfort. Mom and Dad are great, but they're getting older now. I don't feel like I can tell them anything, and when I do, they usually don't say what I need to hear. That's what older siblings, particularly older sisters, are supposed to be for. In a way, Teddy had been right - these videos are helping me as I grow up. But they're no substitute for the real thing.
As I sit on my bed, my legs crossed, my eyes are glued to the television. Teddy goes on to tell me about her mascot try-outs, and how I ended up taking my first steps during a baby race. My heart aches again, longs to be a member of that family. I would give anything to have grown up then, or for my siblings to be teenagers now.
These videos really are a mixed blessing. I get some great advice from teenage Teddy, but they just remind me of how much I missed out on. They way she talks about PJ and Gabe...I can see how close the three of them were. Even now, when everyone's home for some occasion, I see it in the way they tease each other, how well they know each other. As for me, I feel like I know the past versions of my siblings better than present ones.
Of course, it's not like they completely ignore me. PJ checks in a few times a week. After he reworked the song he wrote when he was younger, "My Butt is on Fire," he sold it to a major rap artist. He's been a professional song writer ever since. Fortunately, that means he has plenty of time to chat.
Meanwhile, Gabe just finally earned his masters degree in film production. He always says he owes his passion to me, since he discovered it by continuing the video diary for Teddy when she went to college. Since he lived at home while he completed his masters, I'm still heartbroken over his decision to move to LA, where he's got a better chance of finding a job in his field. He was home the longest, so of course I'm closest to him. While PJ and Teddy still treat me like the cute baby they had to take care of as teenagers, Gabe realizes that I'm growing up. He promised to call or email every day. So far, he's been keeping his promise
The house just feels so...empty now. I don't stay home a lot. What's the point? I used to knock on Gabe's or Teddy's, or even PJ's door years ago and rant about my day, then listened when they told me about theirs. These days, home is so boring that I fill my schedule with activities. That isn't too hard since, thanks to growing up in a house full of people, I'm naturally outgoing - I've been a cheerleader since elementary school (which disappointed my mother, who hoped I'd continue the family tradition of being the school mascot).
Speaking of which, I notice that this is the video with me in the little Whammy outfit. I have to smile. I can't blame Teddy for filming me all the time when I was such an adorable baby.
But yet I can blame her for how much I resent these videos. They show me the life I can't remember, no matter how much I try, and make me long for the people who aren't around any more.
"Charlie!" My mom's voice floated up from downstairs. "Your ride's going to be here in ten minutes, and I last saw your pom poms in the backyard!"
"I'll be right there!" I shout back, at first confused as to what they were doing there. Then I remember I'd been practicing some new cheers the day before.
Quickly, I turn the DVD off and try to cheer up enough to pass for my normal, upbeat demeanor. I'm sure this sadness will pass, just like it had when PJ and Teddy moved out. Before I can run downstairs, my cell phone rings. I smile again when I see the caller ID. "Hi Teddy!"
"Hey Charlie! Sorry I missed your call, I was stuck in the editing room all day. What's up, kid?"
"I'm not a kid," I playfully retort, my usual response. Charlie doesn't qualify as a nickname, it's just my name, so Teddy started calling me "kid" to tease me. "Nothing, just wanted to talk," I explain. "You know, since Gabe left I'm kind of lonely here."
"Aw, yeah, that must stink. We can hang out this weekend if you want. I'll drive in and sleep over for the night."
"That'd be great!" I exclaim. "I haven't seen you in a while. I miss you."
"Miss you too, kid."
Our conversation is interrupted when my mom screams up the stairs again. "Charlie! Get down here!"
Teddy laughs. "Mom sounds mad."
"Yeah, I better go," I say, already grabbing my bag from my desk chair on my way out the door. "My ride's going to be here soon, and my pom poms are still in the backyard."
Again, Teddy chuckles. I can imagine her shaking her head as she says, "Good luck, Charlie."
I smile at Teddy's catchphrase, the one especially reserved for me. Over the years, I've come up with my standard reply. "Thanks, I'll need it."