Chapter 5 - Family Matters

(...the dining room...moments later...)

The family and their guest sit at the dinner table. Timmy never takes his eyes off of the red-head who, for many years, struck terror in his heart and life. That cold-hearted individual known as...

"Vicky. I thought you were going out tonight", Tootie said hopefully.

"No such luck. There's nothing to do in town, so I thought I'd stay home."

"How wonderful."

Vicky turns to Tootie's companion.

"So, twerp. How's life been treating you?"

Timmy puts on a confident smile. "Better."

"Nice, nice." Vicky turns back to her sister. "You think I could talk to you for a moment?"

"About what?"

"Sisterly stuff, you know? The choices we make in life; that sort of thing."

The two younger women get up and walk to the stairs.

"I'll ask again: what the hell is he doing here?"

"Do we have to go through this now?"

"I can't think of a better time. You know how I feel about him!"

"And you know how I feel about him!"

"But of all the guys in your school - in the world - why him?"

Tootie stares a bit at Vicky.

"I don't think you could ever understand."

"Understand what? He's a loser!"

"The only loser here is the one I'm looking at. I don't think we have anything more to talk about."

Tootie storms back to the table and takes a seat.

Timmy turns to her. "Are you okay?"

"Peachy!", she snaps.

He faces forward, a bit shaken by her outburst.

Vicky heads for the door.

Her father notices her. "Vicky, aren't you staying for dinner?"

"Nah. I changed my mind. I'm going out."

The red-head disappears behind the door. The next sounds heard by the people inside are some muttered profanities, a slammed car door, an engine revving up and squealing tires.

Tootie's mother bursts in with a covered dish.

"Who's ready for dinner?"

(...Tootie's bedroom...a half-hour later...)

The two teenagers sit on her bed.

"That lasagna was delicious. Nothing against my mom, but wow! I'm kinda glad I stayed for dinner."

"Kinda?"

He gives her a look saying 'You know...'.

"Oh. I'm sorry about Vicky."

"What are you apologizing for? You didn't create her."

"In all these years, she hasn't changed."

Timmy glances at Tootie.

"Yeah. Not like you."

Tootie blushes a bit. "You're probably wondering about my...makeover."

"The thought crossed my mind."

"Well, a few years ago, I got some spinach caught in my teeth. Let me tell you, it was really in there. It drove me crazy, so I looked in a mirror to see what was happening. I got it out, but then I saw myself. I never noticed how I looked before. I never was one of those girly-girls concerned with her looks. I still had a thing for you then, and I saw how much you liked Trixie, who was one of those girly-girls..."

"Is; present tense."

"Oh. So I figured 'He might like me if I was different'. When I never heard from you, I thought it didn't work. It broke my heart, but I really liked how I looked. I guess that, in the end, I did this more for me." Tootie glances at the floor. "I never thought I'd end up so shallow."

Timmy takes Tootie's hand in his.

"Tell me, do you obsess over how you look all the time?"

"Well, no. I'm busy with other stuff."

"Being concerned with how you look isn't so bad, as long as you don't make it your whole life."

Tootie looks up at him and smiles.

Timmy looks around the room, which resembles a regular teenage girl's room.

"I see you got rid of your, uh, love shrine."

"Yeah. Just another way of letting go of the past." Tootie flashes a somewhat nervous grin.

Timmy looks at her for a moment.

"Okay, Helga, which closet door should I not open?"

"Come on, it's not like I'd keep all that stuff in a closet."

Tootie turns back and smiles. "It's all in the attic." She walks out of the room, followed by Timmy.

(...the hallway...)

The two of them walk past a number of pictures on the wall: Tootie at two years old, a family portrait taken about eight years ago, and Tootie as a cheerleader. Timmy stops and stares at the last one.

"I gotta know. When did you become a cheerleader?"

Tootie stops walking. "Sophomore year. I don't think I have to tell you how energetic I can be." They both laugh. "All my energy made me a natural."

"Ah. But how is it that I found out a few months ago?"

"You know how high school can be; people running with different crowds. After my makeover, the squad was my crowd."

(...the living room...)

Timmy and Tootie walk in. Her parents are sitting on the couch. The brown-haired young man rests in the chair which sits perpendicular to the couch.

"So, what have you two been up to?", her mother asks with a smile.

"Nothing much. Tootie was just showing me the upstairs. She told me about cheerleading."

"Yes. We're very proud of our daughter", her father responds. "Of course, I can't imagine why we wouldn't be, between cheerleading and her incredible grades..."

"Dad..." Tootie cuts him off bashfully.

Timmy faces Tootie's parents. "So, Mr. and Mrs...um, Tootie's parents?"

"Flanagan."

"I'm just wondering - in fact, I've always wondered: how did she get the name 'Tootie'?"

She opens her mouth to speak, but she's cut off by her mother.

"There's a funny story behind that."

(...the living room...sixteen years ago...)

The house is decorated for Christmas. Vicky and Tootie sit in front of the tree and tear open their presents excitedly, while their parents look on from the couch.

The elder of the two girls works on an exceptionally big gift. Her eyes sparkle when she sees what's inside.

"Wow! A train set!" Vicky runs to her father and wraps him in a hug. "Thanks, daddy!"

"Train! Toot-toot. Toot-toot."

"You're welcome, Vicky."

"Toot-toot. Toot-toot!"

The family's attention is drawn to the little dark-haired girl in front of the tree tooting like a train.

(...the living room...moments later...)

Tootie holds her head in her hands.

"...and the name just stuck."

Timmy looks to Tootie.

"Something wrong?", her mother inquires.

"I've never minded the name, but that story drives me nuts."

"That's amazing."

"The story?"

"No. That Vicky was so...so..."

"Kind?", Tootie asks.

"Compassionate?", queries Mrs. Flanagan.

"Caring?", says Mr. Flanagan.

"Human."

Mr. Flanagan exhales. "Well, Vicky has been quite a handful."

'Of jellyfish', Timmy thought to himself.

"But she's always been our baby."

"She hasn't always been like this", Mrs. Flanagan intercedes.

Timmy raises an eyebrow.

"She was once a darling child, but then one day, she just became so..."

"Heartless?"

"No, no. First came the crying, then withdrawal, then came the..." She hesitates a little. "...heartlessness. It seems so strong a word."

'Not strong enough.'

"You shouldn't worry so much about it, Timmy. She can't be this way forever. Deep down is the daughter we love so very much."

Tootie clears her throat.

"Sorry. The other daughter we love so very much."

Timmy couldn't believe his ears. Was there really a heart within the young woman he despised and feared so much in his younger days, or was it just a black hole?

(...outside the Flanagans...a half-hour later...)

Tootie stands at the front door of the house facing Timmy, who is outside.

"I guess I have to be going."

The disappointed tone in her voice is obvious. "Yeah."

"But I'll see you tomorrow?"

She gives him a quick kiss on the lips. "Of course."

Timmy walks off, then stops. He turns back around.

"I feel I really ought to know about Vicky. If only I had some kind of vehicle, like a Delorean or a Vespa..." Timmy stops. Why had he listed a kind of scooter for time-travel purposes?

"Timmy. Please don't let this bother you." Tootie's words shake him out of his trance. "I don't want you going crazy trying to figure this out. It's a very touchy subject. Let's just leave it at that, okay?"

Timmy sighs. "Okay."

The brown-haired young man walks to his car and his dark-haired girlfriend closes her door.