Chapter Four: Helen

"You could have asked first," is the first thing my mother, Helen Penelope Harris II, says to me when I casually mention that Jaden will be accompanying us to the lake cabin next week. Her voice sounds light and airy when she says it, but she wrinkles her nose and refuses to look at me, both signs that she is secretly pissed.

"You're right," I concede, because it's always better to let Helen Harris II think she has the upper hand. "I probably should have. But I really do think this will be good for Jaden. He's so in his head all the time. Maybe he'll perk up in a new place around new people."

Mom gives a small sigh and shakes her head. "Helen," she says and then looks me directly in the eye. Even after 30-odd years of being her daughter, I feel myself flinch and look away. Her lips straighten into a thin line and she shrugs, then continues folding underwear into her suitcase. "Never mind," she says, a cool wave of her perfectly manicured hand. "Forget I said anything."

"What?" I snap, barely able to contain my annoyance. It seems like every time she and I are in the same room, I revert back to a teenager or even a pre-teen. I used to think this was a common occurrence for all adults when in contact with their aging parents, but Dr. Sam Samuelson assured me that was definitely not the case and that it's just another uber weird/damaged/broken aspect of my character.

"Nothing," she says again.

It's all I can do to stop from literally stomping my foot. "No it's not nothing. It's not never mind. I'm not going to forget it. What?"

She sighs. "Well, it's just that I really don't understand why this child is your obligation anymore. And frankly, I think it's weird of you to get so involved. It's not your job to take care of him."

"Yeah I know that," I say sharply. "But someone has to take care of him. Perry certainly isn't going to and he doesn't have anyone else. He's going through a really hard time and I want to help him. I don't see what's weird about that," I add coldly. I do not add, however, that she actually makes a valid point. Even after Summer-Camp-for-Adults-with-Issues, I often find myself over committing to "projects" (that is, getting overly involved in someone else's life). People like Helen Harris II or Dr. Sam Samuelson or Perry or even that bitch Annie would say that it makes me seem desperate.

My mother sighs yet again. "Fine," she snips. "But tell him he has to clean up after himself and pay for his own hotel room."

"Yeah, of course!"

"And I'm not sharing a cabin with him when we get to the lake," she adds.

"Of course not. He'll have his own room." I stop just short of telling her thank you when I remember I wasn't even asking her permission in the first place.

Mom and I have gone to our cabin in Whitefish Lake, Minnesota every summer for the week of the Fourth of July since I was in preschool. Sometimes my dad accompanies us as well, but this year (and countless others) he finds excuses to avoid it. Occasionally, we are joined by various in-laws, including my uncle, Tom Snook, his daughter Ellory and Ellory's husband, Becket. Tom Snook may very well be the very definition of snob, but Ellory is one of the most refreshingly normal people I have ever met. Becket, meanwhile, is a happy-go-lucky Aussie who puts everyone in an infinitely better mood. Fortunately, all three are going to be present and accounted for this summer.

Most years, it is just Mom, me and my grandmother, Helen Penelope Harris I. And let's just say a triple dose of Helen Penelope Harris crammed together in a posh, but relatively small space is usually more passive-aggressiveness than most people – including my dad and grandfather – can handle. If I turn into a foot-stomping, snarky, pouting teen around my mother, Helen II turns even more immature around her own mother. Last year, for instance, she thought both of us were ganging up on her because we disagreed that we should have cold dinners every night instead of using the grill. This eventually lead to her pouting in her room while my grandmother rolled her eyes and said, "stop being so sensitive, Helen. Grow up."

"Yeah, mom," I had added in what I thought was a reasonable tone. "It's not that big a deal."

For some reason (probably related to the fact we had all been sipping martinis all afternoon), this eventually lead to Grandma Helen telling me I needed to form my own opinions and/or grow a backbone. Though I'm not proud to admit it, this lead to me storming out onto the porch in a huff where I proceeded to pout just like Mom. And Grandma, meanwhile, had no idea what she had done to enrage either of us, so she gave us the silent treatment for the rest of the night – which hardly mattered, given neither of us were talking to her anyway. The next morning, we all had the good sense to be embarrassed and to apologize for the previous night's outburst, but a distinct whiff of sticky, sickly resentment remained in the air for the remainder of the week.

When I told Owen about last year's fiasco, he shook his head and laughed out loud. "But your mom seems so normal," he said.

"She is normal," I agreed. "So is Grandma. So am I, actually, for the most part." But there was something about the combination of three Helens combined with the primal lake cabin setting that brought out the very worst in all of us. Thankfully, the in-laws' presence lessens the toxicity of a Helen Penelope Harris vacation almost 100% as all of us like to be on our best behavior around the rest of the family.

As we near July 1st, however, I start to rethink inviting Jaden to the lake cabin. Before my Ambien kicks in on June 30th, a series of what-ifs swarm my head. What if my mom and/or grandma and I get in a fight in front of Jaden and it embarrasses/traumatizes him? What if Jaden embarrasses me in front of my family? What if the lake cabin doesn't help Jaden, but instead makes him even worse? Jaden's problem seemed like a pretty simple – and if I'm honest, shallow – one at first. Once he sees that there's a big world out there full of motor boating and wake boarding and fishing and swimming and barbequing and fireworks (and drinking, but he's not even close to 21 yet), he will realize he has more in his life than just some silly show. But is this arrogant of me?

Maybe Jaden doesn't even like fishing or swimming or any other lake related activities. Maybe his social awkwardness will rub people the wrong way and he will only retreat deeper into his shell. Maybe my mother is completely right and I have no right to try with Jaden at all anymore. Maybe Sam Samuelson is right and I am only doing this selfishly to try to make myself feel better about my own sorry excuse for a life (not to mention my failed relationship with Perry). Okay, admittedly, I haven't told Sam Samuelson about any of this yet, but I know him well enough to guess his response. By the time morning sets in, I am seriously hoping Jaden has changed his mind about wanting to go.