(I'm sure it seems like I've forgotten about my other stories, but I haven't. They will be updated soon.) Thanks so much for the comments and feedback to the previous chapter. I always appreciate hearing what you guys think. :-)
"I wish you could stay a little longer," Angela said as she clung to her father. "Are you sure you have to go?"
"I called in all the favors I could to get the extra days for this visit. I need to get back." He hugged her tight in return. "I'm just a phone call away if you need anything."
"It's not the same."
"We'll make it through. We always have."
She reluctantly pulled away. "I have to see mom and start going through Nan's house. I don't know how I'm going to handle it by myself."
"You won't be alone. Aunt Lois will be there."
"Nan was her sister. I don't want to lay all this on her while she's grieving."
"She's not the only one grieving. You're grieving your grandmother and Camille is grieving her mother."
"What's your point?"
"I don't know that I have one aside from saying that you have something in common right now: missing the same wonderful person. Maybe things would be easier if you focused on Nan instead of your mother."
"That didn't work at the wake, but yeah, sure, it'll be a big success now," she responded, her voice ladened with sarcasm.
"Don't forget to set up times to check out those apartments and let me know what you think. Aunt Lois isn't in a rush to sell and won't kick you out so if they don't feel right that's fine."
"I know. Hopefully one of them works because I'd like to be settled before the new semester."
An announcement from the overhead speakers halted any further conversations. "…..flight 5522 to Nashville is now boarding."
"So that's the third time they've announced that. I guess this is good-bye until…whenever."
"Thanksgiving is less than five months away."
"Dad, don't make promises you can't keep."
"If I can't get the time off to make it back out here you can always fly to me. You can even bring Eric."
"You're inviting Eric to spend Thanksgiving with us?"
"If you want him there, if he wants to come…yes."
"Wow," she laughed, "you do feel guilty."
"I know you sometimes find this hard to believe, but it's just as difficult to walk away now as it was when you were a little girl."
"It doesn't get any easier being on this side of the good-bye."
"It won't be forever. When this contract is up I swear I-"
She rolled her eyes. She couldn't help it. "I know, you've said it like a million times. How many more times are you going to tell me?"
"As many times as it takes for you to believe me."
"To be honest I don't think I'll trust it until you're-"
"Ladies and gentlemen, once again Flight 5522, Philadelphia to Nashville is now boarding."
"I have to get on that plane. I hate like hell that I do, but I have to." Saying goodbye was always the worst part of each visit, but what made it even harder was feeling like every time he left any progress they'd made in their relationship got on that plane with him. "We'll see each other soon, definitely no later than Thanksgiving."
Angela nodded and took a step back. "Sure."
He picked up his carry-on and stood there for a few seconds, anticipating one last hug. However, his daughter stood her ground.
"This is the final boarding call for Flight 5522, Philadelphia to Nashville. One more time that's final boarding for Philadelphia to Nashville."
"I love you, sweetheart."
"I love you, too."
Reluctantly, he headed for the gate and attempted the mental calculations on how long it would take to make this up to her. Sometimes Alvin wished she could be won over with material objects. It would certainly make things easier. But Angela's love could not be bought. He was showing his ticket to the gate agent when he heard her call out.
"Dad!"
"Yes?"
Not wanting their visit to end on this note Angela walked over to her father and threw her arms around his neck. "You'd better call me when you land and make it home safe."
"I will. I promise. It will be the first thing I do."
"It better be. I'll know if it's not."
"Sir," the gate agent interrupted, "you need to board or the plane will leave without you."
"Thanksgiving," he reminded Angela.
"For your sake, yes."
"What does that mean?"
"It means if you somehow don't make Thanksgiving work I will still send Eric. I'll send him along with Jack and make them cook for you."
"Is that supposed to be a threat," he asked, confused.
"Considering the one time they tried to make Thanksgiving dinner they wound up with chicken bones in the pumpkin pie, I'd say yes."
"What…but why…how is that even possible?"
"Play your cards right and you never have to find out."
/
"You doing all right," Eric asked, glancing at Angela out of the corner of his eye. She hadn't said much since they dropped her dad off at the airport. He'd waited in the car so they could say their goodbyes in private, but he could see she was upset.
"Sure. At least I got a few weeks with my dad. I can't tell you the last time I got to see him for that long." She took a C.D. out of the glove box and mindlessly read the back. "I just wish I had a guarantee of when I'll see him again. He swears no later than Thanksgiving, but he's sworn before."
"If he can't make it here maybe you can always go to him. I'll even drive you again if you want me, too."
Angela smiled at him. "Thanks." She decided not to mention her dad's invitation to him for Thanksgiving yet. Better to wait and see how things looked closer to the holidays.
"Any time. But you're really okay? You're not just saying you're okay the way you do sometimes when you just want people to shut up and stop asking? Because I'm not most people. I won't shut up."
Sometimes she forgot for as well as she's gotten to know Eric and read his moods he's gotten a pretty good read on hers', too. It could be annoying, especially when she was feeling a million things at once and needed time to process them all. "I'm fine. It's not like I have much choice. I have to be okay."
"There's always a choice."
"What?"
"It's okay to not be okay, you know?"
"Not for me, at least not right now."
"Why?"
"Because if I'm going to survive the next few days with my mother, not okay cannot be in my vocabulary. It can't even exist in my universe. I have to be okay, everything has to be okay. If it's anything less than okay then she's going to think she still has some sort of power over me. And she doesn't." She crossed her arms and leaned against the door. "I've gotten by just fine without her for ten years. What's the big deal?"
"Angela, that's more than half of your life."
"What's your point," she asked quietly. The truth hit a little differently when laid out like that. She'd been without a mother for half of her life. That was a long time.
"You've earned the right to tell her off and let her know how not fine you are…were. She deserves to hear it all and face what she did to you."
"I think I told her off well and good at Nan's wake when I said she was a good as dead to me and may as well have been in the casket, too."
"Yeah, that-that was an epic burn." Truthfully Eric wasn't sure who had been more hurt at that moment, Angela or her mother. Though his sympathy meter for Camille was almost non-existent. "But if this week is the last time you ever see her-"
"-if I have anything to say about it, it will be." She sighed and ran her hands through her hair. "Either change the subject or drop me off at Nan's."
"Huh?"
"I'm done with this conversation. You're never going to understand where I'm coming from."
"I'm trying to understand."
"You don't though. You can't. So please…stop."
"Fine."
The next several minutes passed mostly in silence except for Eric drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He was either annoyed or overthinking, Angela couldn't be sure which. While she knew he was only trying to help, it was frustrating to no end because it was impossible at the moment. "For the record," she began, "it's a good thing that you don't get it. I'm glad you don't understand this part of me."
"Why?"
"Because it means you had a normal family. You've never wondered if your parents loved you. Trust me, it's a burden you don't want to carry."
"There was this one time when I was nine, I was bored with my ant farm and wanted to build an ant city. So I made a trail of ice cream from the backyard up to my room to draw more of them in." He could still hear the yelling if he thought hard enough. "Mom and dad had to use the money for our summer vacation to get the house bug bombed. I was grounded for weeks." She smiled at the anecdote but otherwise didn't have much reaction. "Fine, I know that's not the same thing, but I just want to help."
"I appreciate that, but do you know what helps me the most? It's the times you hold me when I'm upset or listen to me vent. Then you tell me silly things to cheer me up when I'm ready to hear them. That's what I need. I just need you to be you. It's one thing to try to understand, but suggesting and trying to force me to talk to my mom is not an Eric thing. That's a total Cory move."
"Hey, that's a low blow. Just tell me I'm acting like a dick if that's how you feel."
"Interfering is his specialty."
"Still…ouch. But I get it. My role in this is to shut up, listen, and hug."
She sighed. "I'm sorry if I'm coming off like a giant bitch. I don't mean to."
"It's okay."
"No, it's not. I know I've been snapping a lot lately because I'm stressed, but I shouldn't be taking it out on you. This mess isn't your fault."
"Angela, I understand. My mom explained it to me."
"Explained what? When did you talk about me to your mom?"
"It was right after your grandmother died and you were freaking out on me because you were having trouble finding the flowers. She said sometimes when people are really upset they'll pick fights with the people closest to them because it's safe. They know they're not going to run away because things get bumpy."
"Oh."
"I don't go blab everything about you and our relationship to my mom if that's what you were worried about."
"I know you better than to think that." Angela realized he was heading to his apartment instead of Nan's house. "Oh, I'm not staying over. I need to focus all of my energy on tomorrow. I wouldn't be very good company tonight."
"You're always good company."
"Don't lie."
"Fine, 95% of the time you're good company and-"
"Ninety-five?! I thought you'd say like 99% or something. Maybe 98 if I'm in a crap mood. Why only 95?"
"Uh-I um…what I meant was-"
She laughed and squeezed the top of his thigh. "Relax. I'm just joking around."
"And you just answered the 95% question, smartass."
"Oh, poor you," she said, voice laced with mock sympathy. "You have it so rough."
"I know." He pulled into the parking garage and hoped the moron who was assigned the space next to him stayed on his side of the lines this time. "I've got to be good company about 120% of the time, right? And before you answer keep in mind the reason we're stopping by my place first is because you left the 76ers shirt here. And I figured you would need all the hugs you could get to make it through tomorrow." He nudged her with his elbow. "Just in case it helps my score at all."
One of the things she appreciated most about Eric was how it was always the little things, the seemingly minor details that most people would forget- he remembered. She must've had two or three of his shirts mixed in with hers' at Nan's, but he realized the 76ers one was left behind. Who else would notice that? "I'd give you about a 95%, too."
"Wow, tough grader." He held his breath as he squeezed into his parking space, as though that would actually help him not hit the car on one side or the wall on the other. "You might be tougher than Feeny."
"But occasionally you have moments like this where you swing for the fences and land somewhere near 120."
"Look who's trying to earn some extra credit with the baseball references. Lucky for you I'm easy."
"Tell me something I don't know," she joked.
"Some people would be insulted by that, but not me."
"Good. I didn't mean it as one." Angela unbuckled her seatbelt and slid over to him. "I'm going to miss this once you get a new car."
"What, the wrench in the ignition?"
"No, the bench seats, they don't seem to be very popular anymore." She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his chest. "It'll be hard to do this with bucket seats."
"Let's face it when I finally do scrape together enough cash for another car it sure as hell isn't going to be new. The odds of the next clunker having bench seats are pretty high." He ran his hand along the dash. "I don't like to talk about my next car in front of Lucille. She's been good to me."
"Why did you name your car Lucille?"
"The guy I bought it from said that every car needs a name if it's going to treat you right- especially a hunk of metal like this. I asked him what people usually name their cars and he said all his cars had old lady names and told me she'd let me know when I had the name right."
Though inane, Angela appreciated the distraction the conversation provided. "You couldn't keep the name he gave her?"
"That was against the car code."
"There's a car code?"
"Apparently."
"So when do we get to the part where you name her Lucille?"
"I was two blocks away and I put my foot on the gas at the green light and…nothing. Just…she was dead. I'm trying the ignition and everything but nothing was working. I had cars behind me honking and then I remembered something else the guy said."
"What?"
"He said…" Eric paused and peered down at her. "First, remember these are his words and not mine."
She chuckled. "Oh, this is going to be bad, huh?"
"Again, his words. Anyway, he said that sometimes, just like a woman, cars get moody and go cold on you with the silent treatment. But with a little sweet talk they come around and see things your way."
"Wow, sounds like a charmer."
"Four ex-wives don't lie."
"How do you know how many-"
"He was a friend's uncle. But to finish the story I was stuck at the intersection with cars behind me and tried sweet-talking her and trying out different names. Nothing was working. I don't know where Lucille came from, but it popped into my head and the second I said it she started right up. And we've been hobbling along together ever since."
"That was almost a sweet story."
"Almost?"
"Sleazy car guy nearly killed it for me."
"Understood." She snuggled even closer to him, which he didn't think was possible, which effectively left him trapped between her, the door, and the steering wheel. Not that he was complaining. "Are you okay?"
"Promise me I'll get through this in one piece?"
"You're one of the strongest people I've ever met. You'll survive."
"That didn't exactly answer my question."
"Do you want me to lie and say I know for sure everything will go off without a hitch?"
"I'd love for you to say it and not be lying."
"Me, too, but I promise if things get a little cracked just call. I'll come running with the superglue."
She tilted her head up and placed a kiss on the side of his neck. "Thanks."
/
/
"Spend some time asking about early life and childhood, what made them want to join the military," Cory went over his list of things to cover for his film. It was going to be tricky to condense everything into a half-hour movie. Why couldn't they give him an hour? Or even forty-five minutes would be helpful. "What," he called out when there was a knock on his bedroom door.
Jack stuck his head into the room. "Telephone."
"I'll call them back later."
"It's Topanga," he teased, using the sing-songy voice he's since learned- thanks to Eric- bugged the hell out of his new roommate.
"What? Topanga?" He jumped up from his chair. This was the first time she's initiated contact in weeks. "Where's the phone? Gimme it."
He held the cordless just out of reach. "What's the magic word?"
"Give me the phone or I'll tell Eric it was you that finished his box of Cocoa Puffs."
"The cereal wasn't even on his shelf! Other people like them, too, you know? He doesn't own exclusive rights."
"You should still know better. You know how possessive he is with his breakfast cereals."
Jack shook his head. "How has Shawn put up with you guys all these years?"
"We grow on people."
"So does fungus. What's your point?"
Cory took advantage of the distraction and snatched the phone from Jack's hand, praying his fiancee was still on the other end.
"Topanga?"
"I'm here. What took you so long?"
"Sorry, just talking to Jack."
"Oh. Is everything okay?"
"It's great now. How are you?"
She took a deep breath before answering. "I'm…all right. I'm still waiting for the day I wake up and find out this is a really bad dream, but that doesn't seem like it's happening."
"I'm sorry. You know I love you and I'm always here if you ever need to talk."
"That's actually why I'm calling."
"Right, duh. Hello. Why else would you be calling?"
"I want to see you."
"Really?" He could feel the boulder that had been sitting on his chest start to lift. "When are you coming home?"
"I haven't decided that part yet."
"How am I going to see you if you don't come home?"
"I want you to come here."
"There…to Yogaville?"
"Yes."
"With all the hippie weirdos?"
"They're not weirdos, Cory!"
"Okay, I'm sorry, but some of the articles I looked up about the
place said-"
"It's just a community where people can try to find inner peace."
"That sounds an awful lot like what that cult tried to sell Shawn."
"You know what, fine. Come, don't come…whatever. I thought you wanted to see me and have a real conversation to talk about things."
"I do."
"You're not acting like it."
"I'm sorry, I…I just miss you."
"I miss you, too. That's why I want you to come to visit."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Yes."
"When?"
He wanted to jump in the car now and head right to her, but he had to be at the store to close for his dad in about an hour. "I have to talk to my dad about taking a couple of days off, but I will let you know as soon as I can."
"All right."
"It's all going to work out, Topanga, you'll see."
"I hope so."
"I'll see you soon. I love you."
"Yeah, see you soon. Bye."
"Bye." Cory stared at the phone after she hung up, not feeling as elated as he thought he would.
"What's wrong? She wants to see you. That's good, isn't it," Jack prodded. He wasn't eavesdropping, but the bathroom was right across the hall and he'd been in there fixing his hair.
"She didn't say I love you."
"What?"
"Topanga didn't say I love you. I don't think she's said it in weeks."
"I'm sure that can't be right."
"I wish it wasn't."
"Maybe she just feels weird saying it when her sister is in the room."
"Maybe."
"Hey, at least she wants to see you, right?" He hit Cory's shoulder.
"That's a good thing. It's progress."
"That's true. She already sent back the engagement ring. I can't imagine she can do much worse." He realized Jack was dressed up, more dressed up than he usually was for the bank. "Where are you going all dressed up?"
"Boudicca and her roommate are throwing a party and-"
"Who throws a party on a Wednesday night?"
"People. What does it matter?"
"So things with her are still going on?"
"Yeah."
"It's been a little while, huh?"
"I guess."
"Is it serious? What's going to happen when Rachel comes back?
She is coming back, right?"
He held up his hand to stop the onslaught of questions. "Rachel and I broke up. She didn't think things were working anymore and I agreed. Maybe things are going to be awkward at first, but I hope we can still be friends because she's a great person and I still care about her."
"What about you and what's her name?"
"Boudicca. Honestly, is it that hard to remember her name? The rest of us have learned Topanga."
"Maybe if I have a face to put with the name I'll remember it better. Is it serious?"
"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I like her but we agreed not to put a label on it yet. We're enjoying the summer and we'll see where things go from there."
Cory stared at him, incredulous at the words coming out of his mouth. Part of him wondered when he stopped thinking of Jack solely as Eric's friend and Shawn's brother and added him to his own collection of friends, but that was neither here nor there at the moment. "Don't you want more than that?"
"More than what?"
"More than a summer fling. Don't you want a real relationship that will last the rest of your life?"
"Someday, sure, but right now?" He shook his head. "Look, just because you're upset about Topanga and don't have Shawn to lecture to about school doesn't mean you can obsess about whatever you think is missing in my life and fix something that isn't there to fix. I'm young, in college, and dating a beautiful girl. I'm doing just fine." Jack checked his watch. "I have to get out of here. Do you want to come to the party?"
"You're inviting me on your date?"
"No, it's a party. Boudicca said if my roommates wanted to come, come. Do you? I know how much you hate to have fun lately, but I think it's a risk you should take."
"Thanks, but no. I have to plan out my movie and figure out what I'm going to say to Topanga to make her see we're going to be the ones to go the distance."
"Suit yourself."
Cory once again sat at his desk but, much like high school, was unable to concentrate. Mostly it was because he was preoccupied with Topanga, but Jack's words were getting to him as well. Was he so desperate for something to fix he was looking for problems where they didn't exist? Would one night relaxing at a party be the end of the world? Then again the last time he went to a party when things with him and Topanga weren't good he got drunk, got Shawn to drink, and stuff just got worse from there. After grabbing a snack from the kitchen he resigned himself to a night of staring at his notebook.
/
/
"What the hell," Shawn muttered to himself as he stumbled around the trailer, feeling around for the light. "Just a second," he called out at the next series of knocks. He switched on a lamp and grabbed a baseball bat before opening the door. If you had told him to guess who would be a surprise visitor to the trailer- whether at 2 pm or 2 am- Angela would be near the bottom of that list. "Angela, what…it's two in the morning. Is everything okay?"
"Can I come in?"
"Yeah, sure." He stepped aside to let her in. "Sorry about the bat, but you know…"
"Don't worry about it." She looked around the room. "So this is the old trailer, huh?"
He nodded. He never brought Angela here when they were dating because, well…Chet was driving it somewhere across the country. "It's not much but it's mine, all paid off and everything. I think it's the only thing my dad ever paid off."
"Nice."
"Cut the crap."
"What?"
"Is this what you came over here for? Because we could've done this during the day."
"I have to see my mom tomorrow." She leaned back against the counter. "We have to start going through Nan's house and Aunt Lois suggested we do it together, the three of us. I have to face her tomorrow, really face her and I don't know how to handle it without losing my mind."
"Oh." Shawn cleared the newspapers off the couch and sat down. He hadn't so much cleaned the trailer since moving in as much as he had simply rearranged the chaos. "What scares you the most?"
Angela briefly filled him in on the two times she'd seen her mother recently, at the funeral home and the lawyer's office. "One of these days I'm going to totally lose control and yell and scream or-or punch her out and I'd like to not do that. Not because she doesn't deserve it, but-"
"-but because you don't want her to see how much it gets to you?"
She took a seat beside him on the couch. "I talk to Eric and he's amazing and he tries to understand, but he doesn't- not this anyway. I think it bugs him that he can't, not in some possessive way, but because he wants so badly to fix things."
"Cory's the same way. I think it must be hardwired into the Matthews' DNA to help. Sometimes it's intrusive and you don't always want it, but they're good people to have in your corner when you need them. God knows where I'd be without Mr. and Mrs. Matthews bailing me out a few times or giving me a place to crash or a plate of food or advice I didn't want at the time."
Angela nodded and thought back to Mother's Day when she showed up on Amy's doorstep without warning. Though the woman denied it, Angela knew she'd torpedoed her plans for the day. She didn't make her feel bad about it though. She embraced her- figuratively and literally- and made her feel like she was the only person that mattered. "I'm glad Eric doesn't understand. I love that he has Amy for a mom. It would kill me to see him feel the way I do."
"What does all this have to do with me?"
"I want to know how you did it. How did you handle your parents coming in and out of your life so many times? How could you face them and not want to kill them?"
"Oh, I wanted to kill them." He let out a humorless laugh. "I guess…I don't know…I guess deep down part of me didn't want to give up on them. I didn't want to believe the rumors and accusations. As much as I talked tough and said I didn't care, deep down I didn't want to be orphan Shawn from the trailer park. I didn't want to think I grew up living a lie."
"And where did you land on that?"
Shawn ran his hands through his hair. "I think I did have two parents who loved me. But they brought out the worst in each other and didn't know how to shake the other off without hurting me in the process. And I know they wanted things to be better. It pisses me off that I wasn't enough for them to do it, but they wanted to fix things."
"Do you still write your mom?"
He forgot he showed her the letters from Virna. She didn't seem especially impressed that his mother kept in contact via mail, but he was grateful for any contact. "I talk to her on the phone a few times a week. I saw her last month. She's back living in Oklahoma with my grandpa. She has been in therapy for a while, even did inpatient a few years ago. I don't know all of the details but she was in for a couple of months. She's on medication now and when I was visiting her she asked me to sit in on a couple of her sessions so we could talk."
"How did that go?"
He shrugged. "Talking about my life with a stranger is not my favorite thing, but she explained her point of view a bit."
"And that made it better?"
"No, not better, but at least I know what she was thinking all the times she walked away."
"I don't know how you can forgive her."
"Who says I forgave her?"
"But you just said-"
"I understand her reasons better than my dad's, but she still left. Sure, we never lost contact. There were always letters and phone calls, but it's not the same as my mom here when I needed her. I hope I can forgive her one day, but that's not today."
"Then why do you keep trying?"
"Virna's the only parent I have left. I'm not ready to give up on her."
"So you think I need to talk to my mom?"
"I can't answer that."
"There's one thing Virna has on her, you know?"
"What?"
"She kept coming back. She's apologized. You know she wanted to be better even if she was incapable of doing it. My mom took off and never looked back." Angela rested her elbows on her legs and put her head in her hands. "I don't know if I can do this."
"You don't have to, you know? It's not like you owe her anything. No one would blame you if you looked her in the eye, told her to go screw herself, and then walked away."
"But what's the alternative? Do nothing and spend the rest of my life wondering what was so wrong with me that my mother bailed?" She blinked furiously in an attempt not to cry. "I can't live like that either."
After a few moments of hesitation, Shawn put a hand on her back. "Just do what works for you, not her."
"And what if that's punching her in the face?"
"Then punch her. There are tons of people who would happily line up to give you bail money, me included."
She laughed and wiped away the tears that fell. "Thanks, Shawn."
"Hey, what are friends for, right?"
"We're still friends?"
He couldn't blame her for asking. He'd been avoiding her and Eric for months. But just because it was still difficult to see them together didn't mean he didn't want to see her happy. "Always."
/
/
9:57
Angela stared at the clock. She gave up on sleep and got up a couple of hours ago and made breakfast. After two bites she found she was too nervous to eat. Aunt Lois said they'd arrive at eleven and she was usually a little early. She tried to remember if her mother was as well, but that detail had grown fuzzy over the years. When the doorbell rang she had to fight every instinct that screamed for her to run out the back door. Instead of listening to the screaming, she took a few deep breaths and opened the door, surprised to find only one person on the other side. It was beyond early, even for Aunt Lois. "Mom."
"Hi, Angela."
"Where's Aunt Lois?"
"I assume she's coming at eleven. I'm staying at a hotel, not with her so I have my own car."
"Oh."
"Is it all right if I come in?"
Angela moved to the side. "I guess."
Camille walked in and looked around. It hadn't been that long since she was in her childhood home, but without her mother here the emptiness was palpable. "It's so strange, isn't it?"
"What?"
"I never imagined this house without my mother. It's her home. It almost feels wrong that it's still standing without her."
She remained glued to the front door. "Yeah."
"You like basketball?"
"Huh?"
"Your shirt," Camille said, gesturing towards her daughter. "You weren't crazy about sports as a kid. Did you change your mind?"
"Oh…no. It's my boyfriend's. Or it was his. He gave it to me because I steal it so much."
She nodded. "There's something comforting about having a tangible thing from the person you love. Is he the one who tracked down the Lily of the Valley for the wake?"
"Someone else did the tracking, but he asked around. So, yes, indirectly."
"I appreciated that. I had given up hope of finding them. What's his name?"
"Eric. Why?"
"How long have you been together?"
"Don't do this."
"Do what?"
"Don't try to act like my mother and pretend you're interested in my life."
"I'm not pretending, June Bug."
Angela clenched her fists at her sides. It was almost an involuntary response to her childhood nickname. "Don't call me that."
"I'm sorry."
"I haven't been June Bug since the day you left."
"As much as you think you don't want to, we need to talk." She continued before her daughter could protest. "There are things you need to know, stuff I'd like the chance to explain to you and help you understand."
"What's there to understand? You signed divorce papers and gave up your rights to me, so what else am I-"
"Whoa, wait, what are you talking about? I never surrendered my rights to you. Your dad may have had physical custody, but we shared legal custody. I have never stopped being your mother. I know it doesn't quite fit the picture in your head of me being the heartless monster who doesn't give a damn, but it's true." Camille walked over to the rocker and sat down. "Ow," she exclaimed. "What the-" She dug around the chair cushion and didn't know whether to laugh or cry when she found the offending object. So she did both.
"What is it?"
"A crochet hook," she said, holding it up.
Angela chuckled. "Oh yeah, I must've found about twenty of them since I've moved in. Just when I think I've found them all another one pops up. I don't think Nan let herself be more than six feet away from a crochet hook at any given time."
She stared at the hook for a few seconds before sticking it into her purse. "So the next few days aren't going to be much fun for either one of us."
"What's your point?"
"Can we keep it calm? Not for my sake, but for Aunt Lois. I know she puts on a good game face but losing her baby sister has been really hard on her and she doesn't need us making it any worse."
"I'm not the one who-"
"I know. Believe me, I know that. And you can call me all the names you want before I go back home but I just want to survive closing out my mother's affairs with my sanity intact."
Angela crossed her arms. "So what, I'm supposed to be nice to you all of a sudden?"
"Nice would be great, but I'll be thrilled with civil."
She thought it over and, as much as she hated to admit it, her mother had a point. Aunt Lois didn't need to be dragged into the middle of all this when the next few days were going to be so emotional. "Fine."
"Yes?"
"I'll try. For Nan…for Aunt Lois."
"Thank you."
/
"Nan wanted to write a cookbook," Angela asked, reading over some notes her grandmother had scribbled onto a yellow legal pad. The day had gone as smoothly as could be expected. The ladies had opted to save the more emotional work for the following days and spent today primarily looking for important paperwork and gathering bills. While scanning over her bookcase Angela came across some legal pads that seemed to serve as journals and rough drafts for a book of family recipes and the stories behind them. "Why didn't she do it? She was an amazing chef."
"Fear," Camille said, walking over to her. "She was afraid no one would be interested in what she had to say."
"But she knew she could cook. She was head chef for a big chain of hotels. Didn't that tell her she had talent?"
"She was afraid to take the risk. What if it didn't pan out? She'd rather stay with the safe option." Lois opened a photo album and laid it on the desk. "Claudia was offered the chance to have her own restaurant. I told her to go for it. So did all of her friends. But no matter how badly she wanted it she was too scared. So she stayed with her job at the hotel and worked her way up. She was happy there, but I know sometimes she wondered what could've been."
"You should've seen the look on her face when I told her I wanted to be a singer. She was on my case for months because it wasn't a reliable career path and begged me to pick something that could provide stability. Eventually, I got my degree to teach music so I could find jobs whenever your dad got transferred, but she was terrified I was going to go hungry."
Angela wondered if there was something in her DNA that made her gravitate towards more creative, artistic pursuits. "She was always supportive of me becoming a writer. She never said a negative thing about it."
"She saw a lot of herself in you," Lois said. "Your grandmother didn't want you to have the same regrets she did. She was so proud of you for following your dreams."
"Wow, look at this: her recipe for popcorn soup."
"I haven't thought about Nan's popcorn soup in forever. Didn't she make it every Thanksgiving?"
"Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, and whenever anyone begged enough," Camille said, making everyone laugh. The joy was short-lived, however. "I wish I had some of her popcorn soup right now. Actually, I'd settle for any of her cooking." She stared at the recipe card, tears in her eyes. "Just one more time…eat something my mama made…"
Angela spoke up without thinking. "You can."
"What do you mean?"
"There's lasagna and a fudge bundt cake in the freezer. Eric and I were supposed to come over for dinner. She wanted to meet him. But a few days before it could happen she…well…anyway, when I moved in I found food she'd prepped ahead of time in the freezer. I keep meaning to make it so it doesn't go to waste, but I haven't been able to bring myself to make it yet. I-I just kept thinking how it was Nan's last meal that she made for me."
"I don't think she'd be upset if we ate it," Lois interjected. "You know, the three of us? If it's okay with everyone, that is."
She knew the statement was directed at her. For as civil as the day had been, it was still stressful. She'd had to excuse herself on a couple of occasions to step outside when being around her mother was too much. But it was one meal. It was one meal made by Nan, the last meal Nan would ever make for her. She would do it for her grandmother if nothing else. "Sure, I suppose we can give it a shot."
"Great. I'll get things started."
"I have to step outside and make a call," Camille said, moving towards the door. "I'll be right back."
Angela continued to work alone in the corner of the dining room where Nan had a filing cabinet, categorizing what looked important and throwing away what wasn't. Like an Entertainment Coupon Book from 1996 could be tossed. Her car title on the other hand, that went in the important keep pile. She also made a mental note to ask Aunt Lois about plans for the car. While it wasn't new, it was still in good condition. A decent sale could be made from it. Maybe she'd be able to work out a deal for Eric if he wanted it.
"Angela?"
She looked up and saw her mother in the doorway, her hands awkwardly behind her back. "Yeah?"
"I have something for you."
"I-you-what," she stammered. "This is not a gift-giving occasion. Even if it was, I don't want anything from you."
"It's not a gift. It's something that belongs to you. I've felt guilty about it all these years. I was going to mail her back so many times, but after a while, she became a sweet reminder. I know it was selfish of me, one more selfish decision on top of a million others where you're concerned, but-"
"You're not making any sense." Her mother moved her hands to the front of her body and Angela gasped. For a brief moment, she was happy but that elation vanished when the implications became clear.
"I'm sorry."
"You knew how much I loved her."
"I-"
"Every move, every new school, every new bedroom with scary shadows that came out at night, I took Tali with me everywhere." She stalked over to her mother and ripped the doll out of her hands. She looked just the way Angela remembered her: the pink and blue striped dress, white shoes, little white socks with ruffles, and her hair made of yarn was tied in ribbons. "How could you?" She and her father turned their entire house upside down looking for Tali. For the longest time she was convinced she lost her at school or a friend's house. She'd even accused another girl of stealing her. Dad offered to track down another Cabbage Patch Doll that looked just like Tali, but Angela refused. She wanted her doll, not a cheap replacement.
"It was an accident."
"You took my doll and kept her for ten years? What's accidental about that?" Her heartbeat echoed in her ears and she felt physical pain from the effort it took to not break down.
"I didn't know you snuck her in the car when I took you to school. You knew the rule. School didn't allow outside toys because kids would fight over them, so Tali was supposed to stay home."
"You're blaming me?"
"No, but by the time I saw her I'd been on the road for several hours. Once I realized she was there I had every intention of mailing her back to you but I…she reminded me of you. I needed a little piece of my June Bug."
"You needed?! You? What about me? It's bad enough I lost my mom, but thanks to you I lost my best friend, too." She didn't remember life pre-Tali. The doll had been a Christmas gift when she was two and, as the legend goes, they'd been inseparable from day one. She studied the doll's face with laser focus and wondered if it was still there. "I was just a kid. Do you know what it was like to be left standing outside of school that day waiting for you to show up and you never did?" There it was. When she was six, she put a little spot on Tali with a marker, the tiniest of beauty marks on the left side of the nose to match her own. This way they would be twins. She hugged the doll to her chest and closed her eyes, letting the tears fall. "How could you do that to me? What did I do?"
Camille no longer saw the nineteen-year-old young woman ready to take on the world. She saw her little girl in need of comfort. "I'm so sorry, baby. You did nothing. I know it's hard to believe, but I never stopped loving you. I loved you. I still love you, but-"
"Don't! Don't say but."
"All right, the oven is preheating and the lasagna is-" Lois looked around the room and could immediately tell whatever truce had be holding all day had fallen apart in her absence. Honestly, she was amazed it lasted so long. "What happened?"
Angela shook her head. "I'm sorry, Aunt Lois. I know I said I'd try, but I can't. I have to get out of here."
"Okay, honey, we can call it quits for today. I'll put the lasagna back in the freezer for you."
Camille followed her daughter into the living room, calling after her. "Please, just let me talk and explain everything that happened when-"
"You don't need to explain anything. I get it. You got sick of me and dad and went out and got yourself a new family."
"That's not-"
"They're good kids, too, right? They don't decide to finger paint their bedroom walls or make little notes on your sheet music because they want to help make your songs better." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Your daughter doesn't try on your dresses and heels or play with your makeup without asking. I'm sure you don't have to yell at her for accidentally breaking your favorite red lipstick when all she was trying to do was be you."
"Angela, please," she begged, "just give me twenty minutes to talk. Hear me out."
"You had ten years to try to talk to me. What's the point of doing it now? Nothing's going to change." She backed up until she was against the front door and blindly fumbled around for the doorknob. "I'm dealing with you right now because I have to. But after this…I meant what I said at Nan's wake. You're as good as dead to me and I want nothing to do with you."