Judy booked a table at Jake's Famous Crawfish downtown, an old standby for those seeking great seafood. Once everyone was seated and orders were placed Oscar got to his feet. He took a moment to survey his family. An unlikely bunch, they were – the tall dark serious faction and the irrepressible red headed faction punctuated by one dazzling blonde. They were looking at him expectantly, hands hovering near their glasses. In their faces he saw love, amusement, tolerance, and from some quarters, even a little admiration.
"Thirty-eight years ago today, Judy and I lost a brother, and you all missed knowing a wonderful guy. I still miss him. I've imagined him so many times over the years, wondering who he might have become, what he would have done with his life, whether he would have married, who his children might have been. I have wished thousands of times that he was still with us – especially when I need his advice. Sam's absence has been a huge part of my life."
He paused, a wistful smile curling his lips. "We've waited for this evening for a long time, when we could finally say goodbye to him properly." Oscar picked up his glass, which signaled everyone else to do the same. "Now we're all here together at last, oddly… I find I'm compelled to make a different kind of toast."
Five glasses, held over the center of the table, glimmered in the low light. Five hushed people listened carefully, expectantly. They had indeed waited for this moment for a very long time.
"It's far too easy in life to focus on what you haven't got, instead of what you have got." Oscar continued. "Nineteen forty-one is a long time ago, and instead of absence, I would like to celebrate… presence." Pausing for dramatic effect, he then continued, "All these years I have had a wonderful presence in my life - an ally, an advocate, a confidant, a co-conspirator. I know that to her family, she's all that and more – and I think we can all agree," Oscar's smile widened, "that in her dour and sometimes sarcastic way, she makes our lives infinitely better. Here's to…your mother, your wife, your sister-in-law, your friend, my sister….Judy."
Wearing a bemused frown for much of the speech, Judy's jaw dropped as she realized she truly was the subject of the toast.
"To Judy!" "To Mom!" rang out through the restaurant. The unexpected switch of subject from an ancient family tragedy to a living person seated at the table made the enthusiasm of the toast all that much more vivid. Katie clinked her apple juice so emphatically she spilled a good portion of it.
Oscar sat down and kissed his sister's cheek, noting that his tribute seemed to have triggered a hot flash. "You toast Sam." he murmured.
She stood, flustered, fanning herself. Jaime slung her arm around Oscar's neck and smiled at him proudly.
"Well gosh!" Judy stammered. "That was so sweet, dear brother. And unexpected. Dour and sarcastic huh?" Looking to Jaime she smiled sheepishly. "I've got to go some distance before I earn that kind of toast from you."
Jaime was about to protest, but Judy was already thinking of her brother. She stood tall and raised her glass. "Sam would have been sixty this year, and I'm sad to say I find it impossible to imagine him at sixty. When we last saw him, he was a bright–eyed youth. Sam was kind, witty, handsome, sincere, trustworthy, responsible, and mature beyond his years. In fact, he was so much of all those things he's left Oscar and me with a lifelong inferiority complex. Hasn't he Bup?"
"Oh yes." Oscar chuckled.
"Thanks a lot Sam." Judy said, smiling heavenward. When she looked down, her eyes were shining. "His middle name was Amshel – and Amshel means angel. Sam has been the angel on my shoulder my whole life – telling me to always do my best. We all carry Sam with us, one way or another…through our genes, or memories or stories – that's the way we keep our family angel with us." Jaime, watching Oscar out of the corner of her eye, noted he was blinking a lot and clenching his jaw. Judy raised her glass, and said quietly, "To Samuel Amshel Goldman – may he finally rest in peace."
This toast was sober and sincere. "To Sam." they all said.
Judy was tucking her skirt, about to sit down, when she changed her mind and raised her glass once more. "Oh - speaking of family…" She hesitated and leaned down to whisper into Oscar's ear. He nodded.
"I have the permission from the boss of everything here, to tell you all it's thanks to Jaime that we finally know what happened to Sam – and I think she might tell us all about it…?" She looked again to Oscar for assent, and once again he nodded. The jaws of Bruce and Sam and Katie all dropped at the same moment. Before they could collect themselves, Judy added, "But first, there's something else – this is important, so pay attention - I would like to congratulate my brother on having made the best decision of his life by marrying this… truly lovely woman." She gestured to Jaime with an affectionate smile. "I feel truly privileged to count her as one of us now. To Jaime!"
"To Jaime!" They all cried in unison, Oscar's voice the loudest.
"Well done, Sis." he murmured.
"Thanks Bup. Are you a little teary?" Oh…." Judy said, giving him a supportive squeeze.
"Why do you call him that?" Katie blurted from across the table.
"Well, when he was a baby, before he could talk, that's what he said all the time 'bup, bup, bup.' So Mother called him Buppy."
Katie grinned. "That's a silly name." she said.
"It certainly is." Oscar grumbled. "And then I made the mistake of telling Jaime that story, and now she calls me that too."
"And we do it…" Jaime added, looking to Judy, "because he gets this tragic look on his face…"
"There it is!" Judy laughed, clapping her hands together. Simultaneously the two women leaned from either side to kiss his cheek. Oscar made a great show of eye rolling and sighing, but Jaime could tell he loved it.
Another family dinner – and this time Jaime was part of the family. She told her amazed audience about her mission to find Sam, and then Oscar and Judy told stories – stories of Sam - often repeated and well known by everyone at the table, but that didn't matter. There were no silences tonight. Jaime realized how few these moments must be in family life – those very special occasions when diverse needs and moods come second to pure harmony. It was magical.
After they had arrived back home and Katie had been sent to bed and Sam had retired to his "lair", the four adults sat up late, joined for some of that time by Carl. Judy excitedly told Oscar about the results of her last dig - a particularly well preserved campsite in a cave in Kenya – upwards of seven thousand years old. Despite her own interest in ancient native cultures, much of the conversation was opaque to Jaime – full of technical jargon – so she asked lots of questions, which Judy answered willingly. Carl became animated for the first time that weekend, emphasizing the importance of Judy's find. The night ended with some wild talk of a group trip to see the site firsthand - Jaime was thrilled at the prospect.
xxxx
Mid Monday morning their hosts dropped Oscar and Jaime off at the airport. Judy was tearful and grateful for the visit and regretful they did not see more of each other. Life was so short, after all. Oscar and Jaime played along, secretly pleased that they had already agreed to attend her birthday party in February.
"I know it's coming up fast, but maybe we should try for Christmas." Bruce said, sidling up to Jaime. "You and I could show them how it's done. Neither of them has a clue."
"I'm all for it!" Jaime grinned.
After hugs and goodbyes, they parted company.
Seated in the departure lounge, Oscar became transfixed by a woman struggling with an unhappy infant. It bellowed and wriggled and kicked and nothing could be done to comfort it. The mother looked like she was on the losing end of a wrestling match with a vicious midget. There was a slick of tears on its cheeks and a slick of snot running from its nose and a slick of drool on its chin. Jaime elbowed him. "Hey – I think that poor woman has enough on her plate without you staring at her."
"Oh, was I?" Oscar said, pausing to smile guiltily at the poor thing before looking away.
"I sure hope those two aren't on our flight." she muttered.
"You mean..." Oscar asked, amazed, "that's bugging you?"
"Well yeah!" Jaime said adamantly. "I love kids, Oscar, but I'm not crazy. Nobody enjoys a screaming baby."
"That's good to know." Oscar replied, relieved. "I thought it was just me."
They sat quietly, thinking their own thoughts, trying to shut out the wailing and snuffling – which then unfortunately followed them on the plane and was seated somewhere behind them.
Gripping his knees with his hands, sitting bolt upright, Oscar looked unusually nervous as the plane took off.
"What's the matter?" Jaime called out over the roar of the engine, 'Sudden fear of flying?"
"No." he said tersely, and looked straight ahead.
When the plane had pushed up through the clouds and leveled off in clear blue skies, the roar quieted and so did the fretful child. Conversation was once again possible. Oscar let out a big uneasy sigh and slapped his hands decisively on his thighs. "So, Babe," he said, "I think we have to get started."
"Started what?" she asked absently, flipping through the in-flight magazine. "You're not back at work already, are you?"
"Babies." he blurted, staring straight ahead. "But here's where we have a problem. I'd like it to happen before I get much older, but with you in school…"
"Wait…wait…wait a minute." Jaime interjected. "What?"
"Babies." he repeated, glancing at her. "Well…one to start, anyway."
"You're talking about us having a baby?" The magazine slipped through her fingers to the floor and she stared at him, wide eyed.
"That's right. But I'm worried about your thesis, and I'll have to have a little wrestling match with the NSB…"
Jaime shifted in her seat to face him better. "Bup, just back up a minute. You want a baby?"
"Yes!" he replied, emphatically, irritably. Was he not making himself clear?
Her eyes were narrowed in suspicion, as though he might be making a tasteless joke. "You don't look like you want a baby. You look terrified."
"I am terrified!" he affirmed. "But the things in life that are most worth doing are usually the terrifying ones."
"Even after this weekend? Even after…" she tilted her head toward the intermittent fussings behind them. The suspicious expression was taking on a tinge of amazement.
"That's what I'm saying." he replied, with exaggerated patience. "I was watching you with those kids – actually the way you always are with kids - how easily you relate to them, how well you understand them. Somebody would be so lucky to have you as their mother, and I don't want to deprive them."
Jaime blinked several times, her incredulity lifting into belief. "Buppy, that is just about the sweetest thing…" Tucking her hand in the crook of his arm, she cuddled into him and rested her cheek on his shoulder. "But I don't want you to do it just for me. We have to both want it."
He was still stiff and nervous and shook his head so abruptly it could have been mistaken for a twitch. "I know. I wouldn't do that. I think…I …think…it's what I want."
She couldn't help but laugh at his proximity to hyperventilation. In his own defense, he added, "It's just…a big decision that's all…but I would like a child in our lives. This weekend helped me see that…even if I did want to throttle Katie a couple of times."
Now she was smiling – a half tender, half amazed smile, and her eyes were shining. Looking at her, Oscar felt a happy sort of pain grip his chest – when it came right down to it he lived to please her. He smiled and kissed her and told himself to breathe. "But I'm going to need your help, because I don't know anything about kids, or how to burp babies or any of it."
"We'll figure it out as we go along." Jaime replied softly. "You'll be a terrific father. I might not have said that five years ago, but now…you're going to be great."
He nodded uncertainly. "I hope you're right. I'm not quite sure how we should time it. If you got pregnant right away, you'd have the baby in…what…August? September? And then that would mess up your return to school. I'll have to re-figure my work life, and we'll probably need some help…."
At that moment the demon infant behind them let out an astonishing, full-throated scream, incorporating into it a growl and a gurgle, halting with a hiccup. They stared at each other – speechless, wide-eyed and horrified.
"Is it too late to change my mind?" he bleated.
"'Fraid so."
"Will ours scream like that?"
"Louder."
"Will it be cute, at least?"
"It will look like Winston Churchill."
"For its whole life?"
Jaime laughed and took his hand in hers, running her thumb thoughtfully over his knuckles. This was an incredible turn of events - a long held dream, willingly abandoned, was now once again a possibility. Strangely, at this minute, the idea was not entirely welcome. She had laid out a nice path for her future, and a child would change everything. But still…
"What's the matter?" he said.
"Not a thing… but…want to know something funny?"
"Sure."
"I'm not quite ready."
"You're not?" Oscar was aghast – he had been so sure he was the single impediment to her becoming a mother.
"I think maybe I want to be a newlywed for a little longer."
"Really? You're not sick of me yet?"
"Nope. In fact…" the fog of conflicting emotions was starting to clear, and she thought she could see what she her own heart better. "I want more time together before we invite a distracting little bundle of joy into the mix."
"That…amazes me."
"Well, I'm having fun, aren't you?"
"Of course!"
"I think we'd have fun with a baby too, but it will be different."
"Do you think we can do it? Whenever we get to it, that is?" Oscar asked anxiously, "Handle it, I mean?"
"Are you kidding me?" Jaime chortled, "You and I can handle anything. I think that's pretty clear."
He nodded. "That's true. But… will we have any time for each other…?"
"It's a good question." Part of her wanted to soft sell of what she figured were the hard realities of having children – but that wouldn't be fair. She'd seen more than one set of friends short on sleep, covered in baby food, women driven half crazy by the terrible twos – those first few years were taxing. "It won't be easy, but I think we can work it out." Now she was feeling a hint of excitement. "I'll tell you what." She looked to the ceiling as she calculated. "We could start this little project next…October, or November. If all goes well, and I get pregnant right away… and that's a big 'if'…that will give me time to get through grad school. And then… when little Winston graduates from high school, you'll be sixty-eight. Not even seventy!"
"Yikes." Oscar said.
"One year doesn't make much of a difference, really, does it?"
"I suppose not."
"And if it happens, great. And if it doesn't happen, it's still going to be great." She nodded decisively, and found that she really meant it. Either way, she loved her life.
"No matter what." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly.
"No matter what." she echoed.