Chapter 5
And it's one more day up in the canyons
And it's one more night in Hollywood
If you think you might come to California...I think you should
Drove up to Hillside Manor sometime after two a.m.
And talked a little while about the year
I guess the winter makes you laugh a little slower,
Makes you talk a little lower about the things you could not show her
And it's been a long December and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
"A Long December", Counting Crows
[December 21, 2002]
"It's warmer than I thought it would be," Josh said as we got out of the rental car. I looked at him quizzically. "Well, you'd hardly need a jacket out here."
"Yeah, desert. It'll be cold tonight," I told him.
"How cold?" he asked.
I shrugged. "Not quite freezing. It might get colder if it rains, but it probably won't," I replied, looking off towards the west. The skies were pretty clear. I walked up the driveway to the porch and unlocked the door as Josh pulled our suitcases out of the car. "Do you want to go return the rental now, or eat something first?" I asked.
"Food. I'm starved," he replied, bumping the suitcases on the floor.
"All right," I said, dragging my suitcase towards my bedroom. "You can sleep in my dad's room, if you like. Or you can sleep in my room and I'll sleep in my dad's room. Whichever."
"I can sleep in your dad's room if you're comfortable with that," he said, nodding.
I shrugged. I didn't care much. Josh nodded and picked up his suitcase. I watched him dump it on the bed and come back out into the hallway. "What do you want to eat?" I asked.
"Whatever you're up for," he said.
"Josh, you can have an opinion, I'm fine," I sighed.
"Burgers and fries?" he asked.
"Yeah, I know a place," I nodded.
"Do you want to return the rental while we're out?" he asked.
"We probably should. I want to get organized after we eat and I probably won't want to stop to take care of it," I replied.
"Ok, why don't we take care of that and then eat," he said.
"Josh, I asked you ten minutes ago if you wanted to do that. You wanted to eat," I sighed.
"Well, I wasn't thinking straight. You're right, it makes more sense," he replied, sounding slightly irritated.
"Fine," I muttered. "You take the rental. Just follow me, it's not complicated."
"Ok," he said, taking the keys from me. I nodded and we left.
We returned the rental car without a hassle. "So, burgers?" I said, as he got into my dad's car- now my car. Jeep Cherokee, actually. My dad was a fan of cars that could haul lots of stuff, but didn't care quite so much about gas mileage.
"Yeah. I'm not really in the mood for anything elaborate," he sighed. I nodded and shifted the car into gear. Josh glanced over at me and said, "Um, CJ?"
"Yeah?" I asked, as I turned out of the parking lot.
"Is this a stick shift?" he asked, sounding a bit hesitant.
I glanced at him and saw his frown. "Yeah," I said, watching him wince. "Why?"
"Well," he started, and stopped. "I can't drive a stick."
"You can't drive a stick," I said, simultaneously.
"Yeah," he said. "I'm sorry, I would have said something if I'd known..."
I shook my head. "It's not a problem. I'll just have to teach you to drive it after we eat."
"CJ, I don't know if that's a great idea. I mean, I don't want to mess up the transmission," he said.
"Strip the transmission, and you won't. It's not that hard, Josh," I told him as I turned into a diner close to my dad's church. "Really, it's not."
Josh looked hesitant, but I wasn't leaving him room for argument. I tossed him the keys as we walked towards the diner. He looked at them as though they were poisoned, but put them in his pocket. "If you're sure."
"Oh, I'm sure," I said. "Two, please," I said to the hostess, ending the conversation.
He looked at it nervously. "Yeah."
"Ok, here's what we're going to do. I'm going to push the pedals and shift a minute here, just to show you how, and then you're going to take over," I said. We were at the church, because it had a nice, large, empty parking lot- essential for teaching anyone to drive. "Watch my feet. To change gears, you have to push down both the clutch and the gas pedal. Push the clutch down hard- all the way to the floor. Otherwise, you'll stall. See what I'm doing?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said.
"Good. Now, the hard part for someone who's only driven an automatic is that you use your left foot to drive a stick. Left on the clutch, right for the gas and the brake. Ok, now I'm going to shift it into first. You have to go in order, or else bad things happen, ok? First gear is until you've hit 15, then you shift to second which takes you up to 30 and so on. It's basically every 15 miles per hour," I said, shifting the gears as I talked.
"Got it," he said, nodding.
"Ok, out of the car." He looked at me nervously. "Come on, Josh. You can do this," I said. "It's not like I'm going anywhere." He sighed and got out of the car. I shook my head and crossed over to the passenger side.
"All right," he said, taking a deep breath. "What now?"
"We're going to turn it on. You've got to be in neutral to start- that's the center," I said. "Gears in neutral, clutch on the floor, turn the key," I said, as he did so. The car responded happily. "Great. Now, move into first gear and here we go."
"I'm with you," he said, moving carefully. The engine suddenly made a loud noise and we lurched forward before dying. "Yeah, not so much."
"You just popped the clutch, no big deal," I said. "Try it again. Left foot on the clutch, all the way down, move the gears and let up on the clutch."
He took another deep breath and tried again. This time it caught and we were moving, slowly. "Hey!" he said.
"There you go! See, that wasn't so hard," I said, grinning at him. "Ready to go a little faster?" I asked.
"Sure," he said, shakily.
"All right then. So, we're at 10 mph, and we need to get up to 25. What do you do?" I asked.
"Push the clutch in and shift into second?" he asked.
"Exactly. Push the gas a second here to get closer to 15, then let up and push the clutch all the way in. Now, move the gears, and start to let the clutch up as you start to push on the gas," And pray you don't pop the clutch again, I thought. He didn't, and we were safely in second gear. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it? It's the same for every gear."
"What about stopping?" he asked.
"You down shift," I said. "Hang on, get it up to third. It's easier to see in third, since you don't want to shift into first if you're just stopping at a stop sign, or something." He moved up to third without much trouble and made another circle of the lot to get going a bit more. "Ok, here we go. To downshift, you push the clutch in and hit the brakes at the same time as you're shifting down. That slows the car down," I said. "Let the clutch out slowly as you're doing this. If you're in fourth, you shift to third, then second before stopping. In third, sometimes you just have to hit the brakes and you don't downshift at all. It just takes practice to know when you need to do which, really. Depends on how fast you're going, too. Ok?"
"Yeah," he said, trying it. "This isn't so bad." We came to a slightly less than gentle stop. "Oops."
"It's all right. That happens sometimes," I reassured him. "You're doing fine."
"Really?" he asked.
"Really. All that's left is to try reverse," I said. "Reverse is a bit tricky. Put the clutch in and move into reverse. Then let the clutch out very slowly as you back up. Otherwise, you'll go too fast. You want to control it with the clutch, not the brakes."
"Ok," he said. He got it into reverse, but the car jerked quite a bit. "Um..."
"The clutch, Josh. Push the clutch down a bit. There you go," I said, as we smoothed out a bit. "Think you've got it?" I asked.
"Sure," he said, sounding a lot more confident.
"Then quit backing up and let's drive around the parking lot a bit," I said. I didn't offer any instructions for getting back into gear, but Josh managed to get us back into first without any problems. He drove around a while, getting the hang of maneuvering and starting and stopping. "I don't know what you were so nervous for," I said after about fifteen minutes. "You've only popped the clutch three or four times. That's pretty good for the first time." I glanced out the window. "Hey, stop up here," I said, noticing someone sitting on the front stoop of the rectory.
"Ok," he said, coming to a fairly graceful stop.
I rolled down the window as Fr. Ben walked towards the car. "I thought it might be you, CJ," he said.
"Hi, Fr. Ben. I was going to call you tonight to let you know I was in town," I said, smiling a bit.
"What are you up to?" he asked. "I thought it was one of my parishioners who's teaching her son how to drive until I recognized the car."
I smiled. "Josh didn't know how to drive a stick shift. Since we're driving the car back to DC, I figured he'd better learn in a hurry," I replied.
"I see. Hello, Josh," Fr. Ben said.
"Hi, Father," Josh said. "Um, CJ, how do I park it?"
I laughed. "Put it in neutral and turn it off. Then pull the parking brake and shift it into first gear," I instructed him.
"While it's off?" he asked.
"Yep. It'll roll if it's in gear," I explained.
"Ah," he said, moving the gear shaft. I shook my head and turned back to Fr. Ben.
"How long are you here?" he asked.
"I think we're going to leave Christmas Day. We need to be back by the 31st and I'm not thrilled with the idea of driving 12 hours a day, so it's going to take awhile," I explained. "We'll just have to get as much done as we can before then."
"Taking care of your dad's stuff?" he asked.
I nodded. "Getting started on it, anyway. The way things look, I'm not going to have any time off for a year or so."
"Well, you've got your work cut out for you, I'd say," he said with a smile. "Give me a call if I can be helpful, all right?"
"We will," I said. I looked over at Josh. "Well, think you can handle traffic now?"
"Um," he said.
"Sure you can," Fr. Ben encouraged him. "It's only about a mile or so, and it's not a busy road."
"See?" I said. "I think you can do it."
"Then I guess I'll have to, then," Josh sighed.
"That's the spirit!" Fr. Ben said. "God be with you, CJ," he said, laughing a bit.
I smiled. "I hope so, anyway." Fr. Ben laughed again and waved as he walked back towards the rectory. "Ok, Josh. Let's go home." We lurched back into motion as Josh drove out of the church parking lot for his first encounter with traffic.Two days later, I was sorting clothes on the floor of my dad's bedroom. Josh and I had made quite a bit of progress- I would probably finish the bedroom in the afternoon, and Josh had all but finished the living room downstairs. There had been more stuff than I had expected, even knowing that my father was a pack rat.
I heard a gentle thump and looked up to see Josh dropping a box to the floor in the hallway. "All done?" I asked.
"This is the stuff you need to go through," he said, nodding. "Here, take a look at this." He handed me a binder as he sat down on the floor next to me.
I opened the binder, which turned out to be a photo album. "Huh," I said, softly, turning the pages.
"I thought you'd want to see it," Josh said.
"I've never seen this before," I said, gazing at a black and white photo in wonderment. The caption read "Eileen and Ray". I squinted a bit and could see my father in the features of the small boy sitting on top of a fence next to a young woman. "That must be my grandmother," I said.
"Don't you know?" Josh asked.
"Nope. I think she died before I was born. At any rate, I never knew her," I replied.
"That's right, I knew that," he said, bending over to look at the picture more closely. "It has to be. She looks like you." The woman was thin, with big bright eyes. I couldn't tell what color they were, or the color of her hair, but I was willing to bet that she had blue eyes. My father had.
"Wow," I said, turning the page. There were more pictures of my father and his mother, but none of his father. "I wonder why there aren't any pictures of my grandfather," I said.
"He was the one behind the camera," Josh said, turning the next page, where we found a color photo of a young man and a young woman leaning against a car.
"Oh, wow," I breathed, pulling the book a bit away from Josh to study the photograph.
"Is that your mom?" Josh asked after a moment. The man was very obviously my dad. Tall and rangy looking, with sandy colored hair and blue eyes. The woman was smaller, but very thin, with auburn hair and green eyes.
"She never looked like this," I said softly, running my finger around the edge of the photograph. The woman's eyes danced, and she was grinning as much as the man she was with. My mother had always had stringy peroxide blonde hair, and her eyes had always had a dull look to them, when they didn't flash in anger. But the woman in the photograph was very obviously my mother. I glanced at the caption. "Ray and Sara Jane, 1953." "She was probably pregnant with my brother already," I said, quietly.
"Yeah? Maybe there's photos of them in here," Josh said, trying to jar me out of my reverie.
"Maybe, I don't know. I thought I had the only two," I said, turning the page. On the next page was a photograph of my grandmother holding a baby. "Ah," I said. The caption read "Eileen and Mark, aged 2 months". There were a couple more pictures of Mark at various ages, then a photo of Mark holding a baby on his lap. "That must be Steven," I said.
"You sure? Maybe it's you," Josh said. This was one of the few photographs to not have a caption.
"Nope. Mark's not old enough. He was 12 when I was born," I said. "No, here, look, it's Steven," I said, turning the page to find a picture of my father holding the baby with a caption that read "Ray and Steven Raymond, aged 1 week"
There were fewer pictures of Steven on the next pages. "That's typical," Josh said with a little laugh. I looked at him quizzically. "I assure you, every younger sibling gets fewer photographs than the older ones. There are about half as many photographs of me than there are of Joanie."
"Then there's probably next to none of me," I said, turning a page.
"One, anyway," Josh said, pointing to a picture of a baby pulling herself up next to a chair. "That's got to be you," he said.
"Claudia Jean, aged 7 months," I read, slowly. The baby had wide light blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair. She wasn't chubby like the babies in the other pictures, and looked slightly startled to be captured on film. Her fist was in her mouth and she was wearing a dirty tshirt and a diaper.
"You were adorable," Josh declared with a grin.
"I was filthy," I muttered.
"Well, you look cleaner in this one," Josh said, pointing to another picture on the page. I was obviously older, maybe about 18 months old, although the caption didn't give an age, and I was wearing a sundress with a baseball cap hiding half my face, standing on a front porch I didn't recognize.
"Mmm," I said, turning the page. There were no more pictures. "I wonder if there's more somewhere else," I mused.
"I didn't find any," Josh said apologetically.
"Then there probably aren't more," I said. "This was my dad's, obviously."
"Huh?" Josh asked.
"He left, probably not long after that last picture," I explained. "There wouldn't have been any more pictures for him to put in the album." I closed it with more force than necessary. "Can you put it in one of the boxes that's going home for me, please?"
"Yeah, sure," he said, but didn't move. "CJ?" he asked after a moment.
"What?" I asked, turning back to the piles of clothes I was sorting.
"Why did he leave?" It wasn't the question I'd been expecting, and I stopped to look at him.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Why did your dad leave? You've never really said, exactly," Josh said.
"He..." I trailed off, unsure of how to put it. "He left because he divorced my mom."
"Yeah, but why?" Josh asked.
"Why did he divorce my mom?" I asked. He nodded, and I shrugged. "Probably because she was sleeping around."
"Why did she do that?" Josh asked.
I looked at him, baffled. "How should I know?"
"Why did she keep custody of you if she was the cause of the divorce?" he asked.
"Because it was 1969 and they didn't give fathers custody of their kids back then," I said, shrugging.
"Even if the mother was unfit?" Josh asked.
"He couldn't prove it," I said.
"How old were your brothers?" he asked.
I thought a moment. "Mark would have been 15. Steven was 11, then, I guess."
"That's old enough to testify," Josh said.
"They didn't let them," I replied. "I know that for a fact."
"They usually ask the older kids which parent they'd rather live with, though," he said.
"Nope. Not in this case anyway, I don't know if it was like that for all cases, but I know no one asked Mark or Steven. I would have been too young, anyway," I said.
"You were how old?" Josh asked.
"Three when the divorce was finalized. Just under 2, I think, when my dad left," I replied.
"That's odd, though. Why did your mom keep you guys?" Josh said.
I blinked. "What else was she going to do with us?" I asked. "It's not like there was anyone else to give us to, other than our dad. We were the only bargaining chip she had."
"Yeah, but why did she need bargaining chips?" he asked.
I had absolutely no idea where he was going with this, but I wasn't sure I wanted to follow him down whatever path his mind was sending him. "She needed bargaining chips because she didn't have anything, Josh. She literally had nothing but us," I sighed. "You have to understand, she didn't finish high school, college would have been so far beyond her grasp even if she did have a diploma. She wasn't going anywhere. And then she committed the ultimate sins in a small town. What else was she going to do if her husband left her?"
"CJ..." he trailed off, and I recognized his expression as the one he had when trying to phrase something uncomfortable. "Why do you...defend her?"
"She's my mother," I said simply.
"Yeah, but," he started, but I cut him off.
"Let it go, Josh, please?" I asked.
"Yeah, ok," he said softly.
"I understand what you mean. But I...can't explain it to you. Not now, anyway. Maybe sometime, but right now, I can't handle explaining my family."
"That's understandable," he said.
"All right then." I glanced around the room. "Give me a half hour, and I'll be ready to load the car and make a trip to the Goodwill, ok?"
"Sure," he said, getting up to leave.
"Hey, Josh?" I asked.
"Yeah?" he replied, turning around.
"I know why you say what you say," I said. He shrugged. "Thank you."
"You're welcome, CJ," he said, smiling a bit at me before turning to leave the room.My cell phone rang, and I answered it automatically. "CJ Cregg."
"Hey, it's me," Sam's voice sounded stressed and tired, which did not completely surprise me.
"Hi. Merry Christmas," I said, smiling a bit.
"You too. Where are you?" he asked. He knew we were leaving California today.
"The grocery store parking lot. Josh wanted to buy supplies before we left," I sighed.
"He's being a nervous Nellie?" Sam asked. I could hear the smile in his voice and I smiled back.
"Of course. I'd forgotten about how much a pain he could be when traveling."
"Did you decide which way you're going?" Sam asked. Josh had called him the other night in the middle of our argument over which route we were going to take back to DC.
"We compromised, sort of. We're going to take I-40 until we reach Oklahoma City, then we'll go north to I-70. It might even be shorter. And we'll avoid the mountains." Josh had wanted to take 15 to Salt Lake and catch 70 up there. I did not want to drive through the Rocky Mountains in December. I'd wanted to take I-40 all the way to North Carolina, but Josh hadn't wanted to drive through the desert. He had some strange notion that we'd get stuck and die of heat exhaustion. I told him it was unlikely in the middle of December, but he disagreed. It was about then that he'd called Sam.
"I think that's the best plan, really. You've got a map?" Sam asked.
"We have two, plus I think Josh is buying one of those giant road atlases. Along with a couple crates of water and other assorted things he doesn't think we'll be able to get along the way." I sighed. "Oh well, how are you doing?"
"Mmm," Sam said. "I don't know, honestly."
"What happened?" I asked. Sam tells me things about his family that he doesn't tell anyone else, except perhaps Ainsley. He certainly doesn't tell Josh, partially because he doesn't want Josh to feel bad, but mostly because he doesn't think Josh will understand. I can sympathize. I don't think Josh could understand my family either. Sam, however, knows I understand.
"Well, he showed up this morning, to open presents. Which upset my older brother, who, in turn, upset my sister, which upset my mother. I think it would have been better if he'd come after dinner, like he'd originally planned. He wanted to be there when the kids opened presents, though," Sam sighed. "The kids were kind of confused, though. They're mostly old enough to understand that Grandpa isn't living with Grandma right now, even if they haven't exactly been told what's going on."
"They don't know?" I asked, somewhat surprised.
"No. I know, Matt, Emily and James know," Sam replied, listing his brothers and sister. "Emily's husband Rob and Matt's wife Jackie know, but their kids don't. My aunt knows, but I'm not sure about my grandmother. It's almost as bad as figuring out who knows what at work," he grumbled.
"So, Matt and Emily got upset. What about James?" Sam's younger brother was only 17 and a senior in high school. Of all his siblings, I knew Sam worried the most about the effects this was having on him.
"James and I pretended everything was fine. We figured it would make things easier for everyone. So we took care of the kids and tried to have a good time," Sam said.
"Good," I said, leaning the seat back so I could rest my feet up on the dashboard. "I'm proud of you."
"Yeah, don't get too proud. I'm currently sitting on the stairs to the attic, hoping no one finds me," he sighed.
"I don't blame you, I'd probably be hiding too," I said.
We were quiet a moment. I just listened to Sam breathe, trying to gauge just how far away he was from completely losing his temper with his family. "I so did not want to come home," he muttered.
"I know," I said, soothingly.
"I should have gone with Ainsley. Or gotten her to come with me."
"No, you shouldn't have. You had to go home, because you had to show them you hadn't abandoned them. And you couldn't have asked Ainsley to go with you because it wouldn't have been fair to drag her into the whole family drama of the first Christmas your parents were separated," I said, repeating the argument I'd made two weeks ago when Sam first suggested not going home.
"Oh, and get this. Last night, Mom tells me she's not sure she wants to divorce him," Sam said bitterly.
"That's a big step, Sam," I said quietly.
"Yeah, but the man had an affair for 28 years, CJ. He was having the affair when both Emily and James were born. He'd been having an affair since I was 7 and my brother was 11. And she wants him to come home!" Sam was a breath away from shouting, but his voice suddenly dropped into a fierce whisper. "I can barely look at him. I haven't even spoken to him."
"Sam..." I trailed off, unsure as to what to say.
"This is so much harder than telephones and email. I didn't expect it to be so hard to see him in person." Sam sighed.
"Yeah," I said.
"What on earth is my mother thinking?" he said, sounding slightly disgusted.
"Sam, she's still got another kid to put through college. And Emily's only been out of school a year. I imagine she doesn't want to tie up resources that she might want to use to help Emily and Rob and take care of James," I said. "Not to mention the fact that this is a big year for James. Maybe she doesn't want to disrupt that more than it has been already."
"Matt said she shouldn't let him come home unless he gets rid of the other woman," Sam sighed. "I somehow don't see that happening, quite honestly."
"No, probably not," I agreed.
"I am too old to have divorced parents," he said.
"Nah," I said.
"I shouldn't be dumping all this on you," he said suddenly. "I mean, you're in the middle of..." he trailed off. "Anyway. I'm sorry."
"It's fine, Sam, really. I'd rather you dump on me than take it out on the 10 million people in your house at the moment," I said. "Speaking of which, they're probably starting to wonder where you are."
"Probably," he replied. "Josh back yet?"
I craned my neck to look out the window. "I don't see him...no, wait, he's headed this way."
"All right. You drive safely. Call me and let me know where you wind up tonight, ok?" he said.
"I will. You going to be all right?" I asked.
"Yeah, I guess," he sighed.
"You guess?" I asked. "That doesn't sound terribly confident."
"I'm better now than I was when I called, how's that?" he asked.
"Better," I said. "Take care. Call me if you want, I think I'll be available," I joked.
"All righty. Tell Josh Merry Christmas and I'll talk to him later," Sam said.
"Will do. Talk to you soon," I said.
"Yeah, bye," Sam said, hanging up. I sighed as Josh opened the rear driver side door.
"Everything ok?" he asked, as he wedged shopping bags into the only empty spaces behind us.
"Yeah. Sam called, he says Merry Christmas and he'll talk to you later," I said.
"How's he doing?" Josh asked, seriously.
"He's surviving," I shrugged. Anything more would have to come from Sam.
"He does that," Josh said, climbing into the driver's seat. "You sure you want me to drive?"
"Oh, I'm sure. You're fine." Josh had gotten much better at driving over the past couple of days, but I wanted him to start the trip, since he'd been driving the highways around here. Better to start with the familiar.
"All right, then, we're off," he said, starting the car. I nodded and looked out the window as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the highway. Sam wasn't the only one who would be glad to get home.