It was summer. Another weekend came and Murph stayed away, it seemed vacation was optional, the other children at the institute stayed there, the only difference for them was that their parents were there too, employees; scientists, engineers, thinkers. But Murph didn't worry about her family, every couple of weeks or so she saw them and they were good to her but it was depressing at home, it was dusty and dull and it was the same thing every day.
She was fourteen and though she knew she was hurting their feelings staying away she also knew she was a teenager and so she knew she could get away with it. She knew that they made allowances for her because being at home reminded her that her father was not there, she knew it was bad to use these things as a reason to stay away, but she couldn't help it.
Tom looked down at his hand, he had two of a kind, but they weren't great; two fives. They'd been playing poker for forty minutes. Carrie had come over for dinner as she did most Fridays whether Murph was home or not, his grandfather had cooked and the three of them had had some beers and now they played cards.
His grandfather had the most money in front of him, Tom suspected foul play, but as they were only playing for pennies he didn't raise the issue. Carrie usually did well at games, it must have been something about her teacher's mind, perhaps fifth grade math was worth something after all, but she wasn't so hot tonight.
When Murph had first gone off to study with the other children of NASA Tom hadn't been too bothered, he had work to do and he had his girlfriend to think about, his kid sister wasn't really one of his priorities. If he was frank he had been glad she was somewhere where he didn't have to worry about her, but now that she didn't come home that often- sometimes she spent two weekends in a row there and he didn't see her for three weeks at a time- now that it felt like she really was gone he had started to write little notes and cards to her.
His grandfather wrote a letter every week, sometimes two, and he had done since she had started there, even in those first months when she came home every weekend he still wrote and drew pictures for her. He'd write hellos and messages from Tom but they were never anything real or worthy.
Tom wrote to Murph not about the farm- he knew she didn't really want to know about that, but instead he tried to remind her that even though he was sometimes tired or cranky when she visited he was still her brother and he was still fun. He wrote little jokes and stories, the fun things he and Lois talked about, the silly rumors her family told him about people they knew and he wrote how he was glad she was expanding her mind, because he was glad.
He knew Murph was only a kid so the thing he really wanted to talk to someone about he didn't really touch on, not seriously anyway. He didn't really speak to Lois about it either because Lois told her family everything and Tom felt that if he started to speculate or even if he just mentioned it then it would become gossip, and he knew that the last thing a schoolteacher needed was gossip…
Carrie and his grandfather spent a lot of time together, the time they spent at the farm was just like the family time that Tom had been used to all his life, they had dinner, they chatted and laughed and sat and did crossword puzzles over a beer together. When Tom was there they did all those things with him and they asked him about his work and about Lois, Carrie was good to talk to when it came to Lois issues, Tom felt extremely grateful to have a woman to talk to about his love life, it didn't feel strange at all that she was there. It was a bit like his father had gone away but a sort of mother had come back.
But she wasn't like his mom. Tom had been 12 when his mom died, eight years had gone by and so maybe Carrie was like his mom, he wasn't sure. Because he was a child when she'd gone he couldn't imagine having conversations with her like the ones he had with Carrie. His mom had been soft and gentle, he remembered her as quiet and strong, like his grandfather in a way. Coop was the passionate one, telling them things, teaching them, playing games with them, mom had been the one to tuck them in at night, the one who brushed their hair and smiled and winked at them when their dad repeated himself.
Carrie was passionate and liked to talk and enthuse about the things Tom and Murph spoke about but she rarely spoke about things she was interested in if it hadn't been brought up by one of the others, she preferred to join the conversation rather than start it… but she did like to play games. She was kind of like a big kid when it came to cards or Snakes and Ladders, which seemed so weird considering Tom remembered her as a no nonsense sort of teacher. But there was definitely a soft side to her as well, she was very kind to his grandfather, she was kind to all of them, she liked to listen, you could tell from the look on her face as she listened to all of them that she wanted to be there and to hear it all, Tom wasn't sure he knew many people like that. It was that reason that it felt good to talk to her about Lois, even when she didn't offer concrete advice she always smiled kindly as she listened to his questions and his problems. Tom sometimes felt more comfortable talking to her about his relationship than he did to his grandfather.
So she was his mother and his friend in their house but what was she in her house? When his grandfather spent time at her place did they really just sit and talk, play games and bake cookies? When they were private did they talk quietly, secretly to each other about their feelings? Did they kiss and hold onto each other? Tom couldn't be sure of any of it. They were close and they were comfortable with each other, he could see that, but it was a friendship, a mutual respect. When Carrie looked at his grandfather it was not with the sort of grudging or patient respect a young woman had for an old man, it was as though he were her equal, her friend since childhood and when he looked at her and spoke to her it was the way he spoke to all of them, he didn't idolize her or put her on a pedestal like a foolish old man worshipping a young woman, she was just one of them; a person he cared for.
Tom did not write to Murph about it and he didn't speak to Lois about it either. He knew Murph was too young and she would worry that it would change her family and he knew Lois just wouldn't get it.
The farm had once belonged to his great uncle's, his grandfather's younger brother. Uncle Michael had, in an age of technology, bought a farm and worked the land with his hands. The man was old fashioned, a traditionalist and because of it he was the reason they all lived so well despite the way things were. Tom often thought about his great uncle, he'd never met him but he had been told by his mom and by his grandfather that he was like him. Tom was old fashioned too. The thing was that most people were old fashioned, they didn't really have a choice not to be. Kids got married young, they worked on farms, they raised kids, sent them to the local school and then the kids got married and worked on farms. Tom knew he would marry Lois. He hadn't asked her yet, but they had talked about it and it was what they both wanted, he would ask her when she turned eighteen, that was, to him, a reasonable age. Her family was old fashioned, they were traditionalists and they had religion- something most families seemed to have though Tom's didn't. Tom respected it and he knew he would raise his children to be Christians like Lois' family, they just seemed so much happier, so much more secure having faith. He didn't just respect Lois's religion, he envied it, he wanted it but he didn't feel like he could talk to his grandfather or even to Carrie about his religious issue, he knew how they both felt, well, he knew how his grandfather felt and he assumed Carrie was the same.
Lois's religion, her family's policy of openness and honesty, despite it all being exactly what Tom wanted to prove he was capable of, it was the reason he didn't talk to his girlfriend about his home situation. He knew it was an odd situation, which was why he couldn't talk about it, but he also could see that there was nothing wrong with it. It was fine because he was there and he saw how they were, that they were like family, just without actually being family, without being anything. It was because he couldn't label it or explain it simply that he didn't tell Lois about it. He had told Lois that his grandfather was friends with their old schoolteacher and that was all, when Lois came to the farm and his grandfather wasn't there it was because he was with his friends. Tom had not yet told her that Carrie was his grandfather's only friend.
As much as Lois came to the farm when his grandfather was there she had never come over when Carrie was there too, and this relationship, whatever it was had been going on for nearly four months. Carrie asked after Lois all the time and told him she'd love to see her but Tom hadn't let their paths cross, he wondered how much longer it would be before his grandfather made it otherwise. When that happened there would be questions and not just from Lois.
Donald was thirty two cents up on his original twenty, he shuffled the cards on the table and persuaded them to play one more hand, just so he could finish them off, Tom wanted to call it a night, he was tired and he was nearly penniless, Carrie had agreed but not with her usual zeal. Her beer was empty but she declined another, choosing instead to fetch herself a glass of water.
"Tom, remember when we taught Murph how to play? That kid's got some brain on her, she got the math of it straight away, working out the odds while me and your dad were still counting out the pennies."
Tom smiled and drank his beer, it was only recently that he'd been allowed to sit and drink with them, that was Carrie's doing and he as grateful for it, it was hot outside and even though he didn't feel uncomfortable with the two friends he certainly felt more comfortable after a beer. He watched his grandfather twist and fan the cards as he shuffled them, he didn't do it just to mix up the cards, he did it so it was a treat to watch. At the sink Carrie drank her water, Tom looked up at her from the mesmerizing dance of cards and suddenly wasn't sure how to react… She had been standing at the sink with a glass of water looking down at his grandfather, smiling and listening to him telling them both one of his stories. One that Tom had heard lots of times but perhaps one the schoolteacher had not heard before. And while he spoke suddenly the woman's face had faltered and she raised her hand to her eyes and she wept.
Donald had been speaking down to his hands, to the pack of cards he shuffled but Tom had been watching both of them, when Carrie started to cry Tom stood up automatically but he did not go to her as he would have done if it had been his girlfriend or his sister or even his mom, for a split-second he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do and his eyes went from the quiet woman to his grandfather who looked up at him and then round at their guest.
"Carrie," the old man said her name softly in concern and he stood, dropping the cards on the table and taking her glass from her hand and putting his arms around her.
Tom watched silently, only the table between them and he suddenly felt he was witnessing something very private. His grandfather only held her arms gently but he stood close and looked down at her with such devotion that Tom was certain in that moment that their relationship was not merely platonic no matter how they tried to pass it off that way.
"God, I'm so sorry," she whispered and she took her hand away and smiled through her tears, she looked back at him and then up at Tom, Donald still held her arms but he straightened a little and took a small step away from her.
"You, ok, Carrie?" Tom tried quietly from where he stood and she smiled and nodded at him.
"I'm ok," she said and she looked up at Donald, "I am. I'm ok," she assured him and he took his hands from her.
"I'll put the kettle on," Tom suggested and he walked around the table, the long way, to the stove and faced the kettle rather than look at them.
"What's the matter?" Donald asked her gently, quietly at the sink.
"I- I got a letter," she told him, there was no point whispering and pretending Tom wasn't in the room. "I got a letter from my aunt this morning," she told them both as she moved and sat back down at the table. "My mom's sick," she swallowed and there was a pause. "I'm sorry, you guys, I should have told you- or, or I shouldn't have come over," she shook her head. Donald sat down next to her.
"Don't be sorry," Tom brought three mugs from the cupboards and set them down in front of the others, "we don't mind, do we?" his grandfather looked at him and then back down at Carrie by his side.
"Not a bit," he said softly and he touched her hand on the table.
"She's always had weak lungs," Carrie said quietly, "I- I'm not surprised. I mean- I mean it's not a surprise, I guess I've been waiting for the letter since she moved away." She shook her head again and took her hand out of Donald's as she raised her hands to her face, "Jesus, I'm such a shitty daughter. I haven't even been to see her since last summer!" she looked up, "sorry, Tom," she apologized for her language. The kettle whistled and Tom tried his best to smile kindly and wave it aside, he looked away and took the kettle from the stove and poured the water into the waiting teapot.
"You're not a shitty daughter," Donald said gently, "you write every week. Long letters. The weather was too difficult last Christmas, it's only just summer vacation, go visit her, go tomorrow," he tried.
She nodded, "yes, yeah, I will."
Tom listened to the silence behind him as the tea stewed in the pot, he felt anxious and wondered why his grandfather wasn't speaking. Carrie had been scared to tell them because she'd thought it would ruin their evening, but he remembered what it was like when his own mom was dying, he hadn't wanted to mention it either, hadn't wanted to ask for anyone's help. He brought the tea to the table and sat down with them, he poured and then spoke, the beer he'd had was all the Dutch courage he needed, "Grandpa, why- why don't you drive, Carrie tomorrow. Go with her, I mean," he tried, "It's North Kansas, right?" he looked to their guest.
"Greeley," Carrie nodded and spoke quietly.
"That's what, four, five hours drive?"
"Yeah," she said quietly, "but, but no, it's ok, I- I should go on my own."
There was silence as Carrie looked down at her tea, poured the milk in and stirred it, Tom looked up at his grandfather and flashed his eyes at him.
"Carrie, do you want me to drive you?" Donald looked at her unsurely and she looked back up at him, there was a moment's pause before she spoke.
"Donald, I- I wanted to ask you, but it's such a big ask," she admitted.
"I wouldn't want to drive that long on my own either," Tom said before his grandfather could reply.
"Honey, it's not a big ask, not at all," he said gently, "Tom's right, it's a hard drive, especially if- if you're upset," he tried and he reached for her hand again, she took it in both of hers.
She smiled gratefully, sadly at him then she looked at Tom on her other side, let go of Donald and reached and touched the young man's arm, "thank you," she said quietly, she smiled at him, "I'm an idiot for not asking for help, if you ever need anything, or if- if Lois does, just ask me, ok, Tom?" he nodded and drank his tea.
Donald came back into the house and looked at his grandson, the boy was standing at the sink, washing the cups, not looking up at him. Carrie had driven off calmly, Donald had promised her he'd come by in the morning with his truck and provisions, he'd told her not to worry and to try and get a good night's sleep. She had been ok.
"Tom," Donald said his grandson's name calmly, but he didn't feel calm.
Tom looked up at him from the sink but did not take his hands from the soapy water, he felt 12 again, he felt like he'd stuck his nose in where it wasn't welcome and worse than all of that, he felt sober.
"Thanks," Donald said quietly, "for seeing what she needed, when I couldn't. I must have drunk too much."
Tom stared and his grandfather moved to the sink and picked up the tea towel and one of the mugs from the rack.
"Grandpa," Tom felt his courage return but he spoke softly, "you can tell me to go hang," he said as his grandfather placed the mugs onto the table behind them as he dried them, one at a time. "What- you and Carrie," Tom said with difficulty, "what is it?" he asked, "What are you?"
Donald didn't look at his twenty year-old grandson, he looked at the mugs and the plates he was drying, it was stupid to think he wouldn't need to acknowledge it. Tom had gone along with it without question for months, pretended it was just a friendship to avoid questioning it, but he knew it was because the boy didn't like conflict, and he didn't either. "I don't know if there's a word for it," Donald replied honestly, "she doesn't want a boyfriend, I'm too old to have a girlfriend, but she needs support, emotional support, like everyone does, so that's what I give her."
Tom was quiet for a moment and considered the answer. It wasn't what he'd been expecting. His grandfather was an honest man, he knew he'd either tell him to mind his own business or he'd tell him straight, the straight answer seemed much more complicated than he was letting on.
"Don't- don't you want anything in return?"
Donald looked up at him, "I think she'd give me the same, if I needed it," he added, "but I've always had it from you and from Murph, even if you didn't know you were giving it." He smiled kindly at the boy, "she gives me companionship," he told him, "when you're old that's worth more than you can imagine."
"I- I do get it," Tom told him, "like, I can see it works. But it's kind of weird, she gets much more out of it than you. She gets security, a family, like, a dad or something and you get what, more commitments, more worries? but you're ok with that?"
Donald didn't look up, he shrugged, "I'm a feeder, a carer, you know that," he put the cloth down and turned away from the boy, looking down at the table, "when you care for someone you get something out of just knowing that person feels safe."
"I'm not judging you," Tom promised, "I'm- I'm all for it, Grandpa, you're happy with her here. I mean, it's not like you ever seemed unhappy," he admitted, "but it's obvious, it's obvious the relationship works, whatever it is. I'm sorry for, you know, for getting involved in it tonight, it's just, well I could see she wanted to ask you."
"No, I'm glad you did," Donald touched his arm, "I really am," he said honestly.
"I don't care what you call it," Tom promised. "I can see she's happy here too, adopted, integrated, whatever. She loves you, you love her. You're partners," Tom pointed out, "whether you want to call it that or not, you are."
Donald looked back at his grandson gratefully and he touched his shoulder, squeezed it a little. "Thanks, Tom," he said honestly, "I- it's not a regular thing, I know, and- and I'm sorry, that it puts you in an awkward position."
"I'm not- it doesn't," Tom shook his head.
"With Lois," he clarified, "with the Dixons." Tom looked up. Donald smiled, "she's a great girl," he said quietly and he picked up a fork from the rack and dried it, "sweet, kind… but her family, they've always been kind of nuts," he laughed a little, "nuts is harsh," he changed his mind as he dried the cutlery and didn't look at the boy, "traditional." He settled on a better word and looked up, "I'm sorry I'm not traditional," he smiled a wry smile, "you tell Lois about me and Carrie?" he asked.
Tom shook his head. "I- well, she knows you're friends," he admitted, "but no. Nothing more than that. I don't really- I mean, I don't know how I would explain it."
Donald raised his eyebrows as he looked down at the knives and forks, "well," he said quietly, "the good thing about folk like the Dixons is that being so traditional it might never cross anyone's minds that we weren't just friends… People got away with a lot more than unconventionality back when everyone was as traditional as them, if you know what I mean."
Tom took his hands out of the bowl of water and wiped them on his jeans. "Grandpa," he spoke seriously and Donald looked up in surprise. "Look," Tom said bravely but he felt his face redden, "I told you I get it, that I'm fine with it, but, but you can't just call Lois's family idiots or nuts or whatever!" he said a little angrily. "It has made it hard for me," he changed his mind and shook his head, "not you or- or not Carrie, you're both really supportive but, but you can't just apologise for making it difficult then wave it away with a load of jokes!
"I tell Lois everything, she tells me everything, but it's been harder to do that since Carrie started coming here. Again," he stressed, "I don't resent her, I don't dislike the fact that she's here, I really do like it," he promised, "but because Lois and her family are so honest with each other, I feel like they'd want to know what was going on. And if I can't explain it to her how's she supposed to explain it to them?"
There was a silent pause and Donald swallowed. It had all been going so well, they'd almost got back to the point where they never had to acknowledge it again. He looked at his grandson, "tell her what we just said," he tried, "why change it? I don't care what they think of me."
Tom laughed which startled him and he shook his head. "Grandpa," he said quietly, "how much did you drink tonight?" he said it affectionately but he didn't smile when he looked at him. "She's a schoolteacher," he said it plainly, "Without a proper explanation they'd make up their own minds about her and the gossip would ruin her."
Donald stared in amazement and he felt his eyebrows climb up his face in astonishment at such a stupid prospect. "A spinster schoolteacher forms an emotional relationship with an old man and that's cause for concern in what fucking universe, Tom?" he said in amazement and he laughed but his grandson didn't. He just looked back at him and was uncomfortable that his grandfather would make light of the situation. "Jesus, if she was having sex with a former student or if she was stealing school funds or faking exam results, those are things that could ruin a teacher!" he shook his head in disbelief and felt angry for the first time in years. He held his hand out and looked at his silent grandson, "and you tell me these people aren't idiots?!" he said in disbelief.
"Things have changed!" Tom said firmly.
"Fuck, I didn't know they'd changed this much," Donald shook his head.
"People in this town are Christians, they don't understand," he tried firmly.
"Oh, so, I guess I should move to New York, except I cant, because it's not there any more."
"Grandpa, stop it!" Tom said angrily, "Just because I get it doesn't mean it isn't weird! It is weird. You can't pretend it's not. I can't pretend it's not."
Donald shook his head, he wanted to continue to argue but he never argued with Tom, he'd never had to argue before and he knew why, he'd never been wrong before. He was angry with himself, not with Tom. It was weird. Not just their age difference, the whole relationship was weird. How the hell was Tom supposed to explain it if he couldn't even do it himself, it wasn't fair that his grandson had that on his plate.
"Jesus, Tom, I'm sorry," he said quietly and he shook his head.
"It's fine," Tom said quickly but he looked up at the old man's face, it had softened, slumped slightly, as though reality had come crashing down on him like a bad hangover. Tom put his hands up on his grandpa's shoulders, he held them and looked at him, "You're not my dad, I'm not a kid. We're all grown-ups. You're right, this shouldn't be difficult, but we can't help who we fall in love with. Whether it's a girl with a nutso religious family," he joked quietly, "or an emotional cripple, or whatever Carrie is," he tried.
Donald smiled and shook his head. "Yeah, we sure can pick 'em," he agreed quietly.
"The good thing is though," Tom smiled and let go of the old man, "they're both nice."