Once upon a time, I was a mean girl. I have changed since then. I’m ashamed now, and I watch my own daughters vigilantly for any signs of cruelty. The world is a cruel enough place without me adding more mean girls to the mix. My sister Julie was a mean girl, too. She hasn’t changed. We don’t talk much anymore. Things changed for us in the winter of ’82-’83. I guess that season affected the two of us differently.
August ‘81. Julie and I are bored out of our skulls. It is a humid summer day. We are sitting outside our house in lawn chairs in the front yard. Flies buzz nearby. Cicadas thrum in the forest behind our house. There’s not a damn thing to do around here. It’s the suburbs, and Julie only has her learner’s permit, which means she can only drive with an adult. We don’t even live in a subdivision with a name like Hidden Valley or Rolling Meadows. The streets in our subdivision have stupid space age names, like Satellite Circle and Star Ridge Drive.
I look up, and that scuzzy little creep Amelia Carson, who just moved into the neighborhood, is walking by. Good, I think to myself. Something to do. I nudge Julie, and she winks at me.
“Hey, Scuzz, where do you think you’re going?” she taunts.
The girl glances over at us from behind her long, messy hair, and keeps walking without saying anything.
I chime in, “Scuzz, where’d you buy those clothes, K-Mart?”
Julie sniggers. Though we can never get her to lash out at us, we always hit home. The hurt shows on her face. Sometimes, her eyes water. We know she’s walking to her little friend’s house, around the corner. The two of them are so gay.
We’ve heard that her family comes from the city. She looks like no one ever taught her how to dress. She doesn’t wear designer clothes or even Levis and Nikes. She doesn’t seem to care what she looks like. She even wore bellbottoms to school one day. At the bus stop, we laughed at her, asking if she thought it was still the 70s. She always looks like she’s in her own little world. At school, she and her little friends keep to themselves. They are misfits. Julie and I are “popular” girls.
She disappears around the corner, and I look over at Julie. She looks as bored as I feel all over again. There’s nowhere to go. Well, there is the pool and the mall. They are kind of cool scenes. I get up to grab a popsicle from the kitchen. I ask Julie if she wants one. She tilts her head back to look up at me, and says, “Grab me a grape.” The house is nice and cool. I wonder how come we’re not sitting in here. I guess there’s even less to do inside. As I’m closing the front door, popsicles in hand, I see a familiar car turn into the street. It’s our mom.
I hear Julie mutter under her breath, “Here comes the slut.” I look at my sister, surprised.
I ask her, “Why’d ya call her a slut?” I’ve never heard her say that before.
Julie looks at me, unbelieving, and replies, “What, haven’t you figured it out?”
I just look at her. “Figured what out?”
Julie shakes her head. “Mom’s having an affair,” she sneers. “That makes her a slut.”
I watch as my mom’s car pulls into the driveway. I have no idea how to feel. I’m not sure I even believe it.
“How do you know?” I challenge her.
She looks at me over the tops of her glasses. “What, you haven’t seen her sneaking off to make secret phone calls? You haven’t wondered where she goes some nights?”
I guess I hadn’t. Maybe being older, Julie knows what to pay attention to. I feel kind of hollow. I feel real bad for our dad. I wonder if he knows? He’s kind of a pussycat: mild mannered, not assertive enough. Our mom has always pushed him around.
Apparently, Julie has the same thought I do. The minute our mom gets out of the car, she begs sweetly, “Hey, Mom! Can you take us to the pool? You could just drop us off.” It’s hot as hell today. What scrawny trees there are in this subdivision don’t make much shade. I begin to imagine the coolness of the pool water and scoping out all the cute guys.
Mom looks at us, sighs, and says, “Oh, why not?”
We hop up out of our lounge chairs and run upstairs to our bedrooms. I grab my suit out of a drawer, struggle out of my halter-top and short shorts, and wriggle into my suit. I turn this way and that in front of my princess mirror, trying to see if my tiny boobs have gotten any bigger. I can’t tell. I lean down in front of the mirror to see if I’ve got any cleavage. There’s only the faintest hint.
As I enter the hallway, I see Julie in her room applying sparkly blue eye shadow in front of her mirror. It strikes me as funny, since we’re going swimming. But I guess she’s going more for the boys. I walk down the steps slowly, practicing swaying my hips seductively. As my dad passes, below, he looks up at me. I flush, completely embarrassed. I wrap my towel around my hips. Seeing him reminds me of what Julie told me. He smiles at me, and I search his face for any trace that he might know about my mom.
“Going swimming, sweetie?” he asks in a friendly tone.
“Mmm hmm,” I mumble, embarrassed on his behalf. I avoid his eyes. I wait in the living room, cooled by the air-conditioning. Julie comes down the stairs gracefully. She’s obviously getting ready to be checked out by boys, too. She plops down on the couch beside me. Her hair is perfectly feathered. Her freckles give her a mischievous look. She’s wearing lip-gloss that smells like bubblegum.
September ‘81. School has started. There’s a new kid in Julie’s grade, a boy from Texas. He’s tall and wears cowboy boots, a leather vest, and a giant oval engraved belt buckle. He’s got a serious Texas twang. The kids seize upon this immediately, dubbing him “Tex”. They don’t mean it in a friendly way. He’s new blood, ripe for the kill. He just smiles wide, with lots of white teeth, and says “How y’all doin’?” He doesn’t rise to the bait.
We don’t see much of Amelia Carson in school except in the halls. She’s one of those smart kids. She’s in a bunch of AP classes. Julie’s got one or two classes with Tex, but he’s also in a bunch of AP classes. Makes me feel kind of shitty. I wonder why I’m not in any AP classes. I guess I’m just not smart enough. Damn them!
At home one night, our mom goes out. Our dad calls us into the living room. He asks us to sit down. He looks tense. Julie and I look at each other nervously.
“Girls, uh, I wish your mother could be here for this, but she can’t.” He clears his throat loudly. He drums his fingers against his knees nervously. I can feel my heart rate increasing. A knot forms in my stomach. I have a feeling I know what he’s about to say.
“Well, girls, your mother and I are separating. I’ll be moving out to an apartment. It’s possible… well, it’s possible that this is it for us.” His voice has gotten a bit shaky. He looks down at his shoes. Then he looks at each of us in turn. I have a lump in my throat, and think I’m about to cry. This can’t be us. Is our mom really having an affair, like Julie says? I feel just awful.
“Dad!” I plead, beginning to cry.
“Oh, Chris, don’t be such a baby!” Julie sneers. Then she looks at our dad, and says, “You’re better off without that slut anyhow.” Our dad stands up, steps across the carpet, and swiftly slaps Julie. His hand is shaking. He has never struck either of us before.
“Don’t ever speak about your mother that way again!” he says, his voice shaking. “I still love her. Separating is her idea.” He looks at Julie then he looks at me. I want to go to him, to comfort him. But the tension in the room stops me. Julie gets up and leaves.
“Julie! I am not finished!” our dad calls after her. He looks at me and says, “I want to be able to see you girls every week. I’m still your dad, and I still care what happens to you. I would like to come by on the weekends and pick you girls up.”
Then he glances in the direction Julie went. He asks me softly, “Would you like to see me separately? I could see you and Julie together or separately.” He waits while I think about it. Then I nod tentatively, also glancing in the direction Julie went. “Okay, then. Chris, I know this must be very hard for you, and I am so sorry to put you through it. I hope that somehow I can make it up to you.” I swipe at my nose with the back of my hand, and nod.
November ‘81. It’s been two months now. We’ve been seeing our dad on the weekends. I miss him, and I’ve come to distrust our mom. Our dad seems depressed. I guess he really does love her. I like seeing him without Julie. She’s been in a rotten mood, and has been super bitchy. It seems like she carries this huge chip on her shoulder. She’s nasty to our mom. Knowing Julie, she’s just covering up for how she really feels. I try to be cheerful when I see my dad. It’s hard, because he reminds me all over again of what I’m missing at home. My mom seems to be fine. I just can’t believe it. It’s like she doesn’t even miss him or something! Maybe she really is having an affair.
The big school dance is coming up. There’s a lot of whispering and speculation in the hallways about who might go with whom. I’m by some lockers talking to my friends when I see Amelia and Tex walk by, hand in hand. I just about drop my books. They look happy. I want to puke. She’s tall, but he’s taller. They stop by a classroom and he bends down to kiss her. I have to look away. I have no boyfriend. How come Amelia gets to have a boyfriend? On the other hand, who needs a boyfriend everyone makes fun of?
A man comes to our house one night. My mom explains that he’s a lawyer. They sit down at the dining room table. The man spreads paperwork out in front of my mom. They talk very quietly, so we can’t hear. I have trouble doing my homework. I have trouble concentrating in class. My life is falling apart.
At the bus stop in the mornings, we still tease Amelia. One morning, she snaps, and hurls a “Fuck you” our way. That’s the only time she has ever fought back. Julie and I look at each other, snickering, pleased to have gotten a reaction.
“Oooohhh,” Julie stretches the word out. “Is that all you can think of to say?” she sneers. “Not very original, Scuzz-ball,” she says. Amelia just turns away and pulls her book bag closer to her chest. We can’t see her face. I bet she’s crying. That’s the only time Amelia ever fights back. The next day, she’s not at the bus stop. We wonder whether she’s sick, or whether she’s “sick”. The following day her hair is brushed and shining. She’s wearing a dress. She’s even got a little makeup on. I can’t believe it. She actually looks kind of nice.
April ‘82 After five months of legal wrangling, my parents are officially divorced. My dad will never live with us again. I can’t believe it. I don’t resent our mom the way Julie does. She has gotten downright vicious with our mom. It’s painful to watch them. Sometimes, from my room, I can hear them squabbling. If I’m studying on my bed, I bury my head in my pillow, trying to block them out. One evening, I can’t stand it any more, so I go outside to take a walk. There are no sidewalks in our subdivision, but there is not much traffic either. It’s almost dark; I can hear the sounds of other families in their houses.
As I pass Amelia’s house, I notice her dad sweeping off the driveway. He looks up, and gives me an odd look. He stops sweeping, and just stares. I feel dread. I suppose Amelia has told her parents about us. Or at least her dad. Her dad, who still lives with her at her house. I notice that he’s handsome. After I have passed the house, I look back, and he’s gone back to sweeping. He whistles a tune I don’t recognize. He’s a very good whistler. I have seen Amelia and her dad in the park playing catch with a baseball. She looks at her dad in a way that reminds me of my dad and me. Maybe I get the same look on my face when I look at him.
Blocks in our subdivision are long, and I don’t feel like going around the whole block just to avoid Amelia’s house. I double back. By now it is dark, but porch lamps light my way. Mr. Carson is sitting on his porch smoking a pipe. I close my eyes and breath the pipe’s aroma with uneasy pleasure. His legs are crossed, and his long arms are stretched along the back of his bench. A twinge of envy hits me. I glance at him nervously as I pass.
Shockingly, he calls out, “Chris, is that you?” I am dumbfounded. “I would like to talk to you for a moment. Do you mind?” he calls.
My stomach is in knots. I guess I’m about to get a lecture. I stammer, “Uh, okay,” and take a few steps into the driveway.
“Come a little closer so we don’t have to shout,” he urges.
I take a few more steps, feeling sick. If Julie were here, I’d feel a lot braver.
“You are Chris, right?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I murmur.
“I understand that you and your sister are not terribly fond of my daughter Amelia. Is that correct? I don’t want to make any assumptions,” he says gently.
I twist my toe against his driveway. I can’t look at him. “Well, I… I… well, no, we don’t really know her.” It is the partial truth.
He puffs on his pipe thoughtfully, taking his time. I squirm. I never could have imagined having a conversation like this.
“Okay, well, would it be fair to say that you have had words with her? Do you know what I mean?” he asks softly.
I really don’t want to be having this conversation. I look up at him, and he must see the pained look on my face.
“Chris, I am not trying to give you a hard time. I just want to be sure that what my daughter tells me is a fair characterization. From what I understand, you and your sister are rather hard on my daughter. Do you think that’s a fair statement?”
My God, this guy sounds like a lawyer. “I guess so,” is the most I can manage.
“Fair enough, thanks for being honest,” he says kindly. “If you don’t mind, let me explain a few things.
“When we moved into this neighborhood, it was a huge adjustment for Amelia. She has always had trouble fitting in. It’s not my job to defend her. It would be better if she could defend herself. But, unfortunately, she’s rather shy. You might be surprised to know that she has a nickname for you and your sister.” He looks at me patiently.
“Oh, really?” I stammer, not wanting to know what it is. I wish I could just disappear.
He takes a breath, and continues, “She calls you two ‘The Animals’.” He looks at me. He puffs on his pipe, blowing the smoke heavenward. The sensation of dread mixed with the intoxicating aroma of his pipe is very strange.
“So, you’d like us to stop?” I probe.
“What I would like is for you to think about how what you are doing makes you feel about yourself. Will you do that for me?” he asks patiently.
I feel I have no choice but to agree. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”
“That’s terrific, Chris. I appreciate it. You seem like a nice kid.” He smiles at me.
I heave a sigh of relief. Perhaps this was a kind of lecture. But I don’t come away feeling chastised. My dad is kind, like this. He doesn’t talk as much; but he is gentle, like Amelia’s dad. I guess she’s a lucky girl. I hurry home, putting my conversation with Mr. Carson out of my mind. But it nags at me. When I think about it, I realize how remarkable it was.
May ’82 After a couple weeks, I can’t get Mr. Carson’s words out of my head. He has asked me to look inside myself. I realize it is not something I have done a whole lot. I wonder whether other people do it. I guess if my mom did it, maybe she would not have had the affair. It’s hard for me to think at home. I take another evening walk, hoping to clear my mind. I walk in the opposite direction this time. I don’t want to run into Mr. Carson tonight.
I realize that I have a grudging respect for Mr. Carson for speaking to me. If I were getting teased, I would just fight back. I kind of like a good fight. But I am not shy. I guess I can see how a shy person might need someone to speak up for her. If my dad spoke up for me and I were shy, I would be embarrassed. But if it made someone quit teasing me, I guess I’d be grateful.
I try to do Mr. Carson’s exercise. I think about all the times Julie and I have teased Amelia. It doesn’t seem that bad to me. Kids I know tease other kids all the time. Especially misfits. It has always been this way, ever since I can remember. Then I think about what Mr. Carson said - that Amelia has always had trouble fitting in. I wonder if kids at her other school teased her? Probably. I’ve always figured that’s just how things work. Some kids get teased, other kids do the teasing. I have always felt lucky to be the one doing the teasing. I don’t know. I’m having a hard time with this little “exercise”. It’s hard to think like somebody else.
I wonder if my dad was teased as a kid? I could see it. He’s not much of a fighter. He’s kind of shy, and he’s not very handsome. Maybe I could ask him whether he got teased. Then he could tell me what it felt like. Then maybe I would understand how Amelia feels. That weekend, as we eat lunch in the food court at the mall, I ask him. “Dad, did you ever get teased when you were a kid?” I keep my eyes on my food, trying to appear casual.
“Why, honey, is someone teasing you?” he asks, concerned. I shake my head vigorously.
“Dad! Of course not!” I deny. “But what about you? I’m just curious.” My dad looks puzzled.
“No, I didn’t get teased. But my best friend did. He was pretty shy, so I ended up sticking up for him a lot.” My dad shakes his head, remembering.
I’m not sure where to go with this. I was hoping to find out what it felt like to be teased.
My dad gives me a funny look. He tilts his head to the side a little bit. Then he asks, “Chris, don’t tell me you are teasing other kids. You’re not, are you?” This question hurts. I’m stymied. I don’t like lying to my dad, but I don’t want to admit to him that I tease Amelia, either.
“Chris?” he probes. I can feel my face getting hot. I hope I’m not blushing. “Look, you can tell me. I won’t be angry.”
I have a really hard time answering him. Even if he wouldn’t be angry, like he says, I think he’d be disappointed. I decide not to tell him.
“No, Dad. I’m not teasing anyone,” I lie, hating it. Now my lie sits between us on the table. I know it’s there, and maybe he does, too. I feel shame. I quickly change the subject, hoping to rescue the afternoon. I vow never to lie to him again.
After that visit, I stop teasing Amelia. I don’t suppose this is what Mr. Carson had in mind, but he would be happy with the result.
June ’82 Amelia and Tex are still together long after the fall dance. They must be going steady. School is almost out for the summer. One night a strange man comes to our house. Our mom introduces him as Howard. He will be having dinner with us. She calls him her ‘friend’. She is unusually animated. She tries a little bit too hard. Howard is laid-back. I want to like him, but he may have played a role in the breakup of our family. Julie is downright hostile. I guess now my mom’s relationship is unofficially official. Now we see Howard once or twice a week. I wonder whether or not to mention him to our dad. I think not.
I’m still not sure whether my mom was seeing Howard before our dad moved out. One night, after dinner, I decide to test her.
“So, Mom, Howard seems nice,” I say.
“Really, honey? Do you really like him?” she asks a bit too eagerly.
“Sure, Mom. So, uh, how long have you known Howard?” I ask, hoping to sound casual. I watch her face closely.
“Well, let’s see,” she says. She takes a little bit too long to answer. I can almost see her mentally constructing a story to tell me. I can’t believe she hasn’t already thought of one.
I tap my toe impatiently. “Well, how did you meet him?”
She laughs nervously, playing with a lock of her hair.
I am disgusted. I turn around without waiting for an answer, and go to my room. Below, I hear her calling out to me.
“Chris, honey? Where are you going? What the…”
I treasure my time with my dad. There is so little of it. It’s only on the weekends, and I have to share it with Julie. Sometimes I wish I could have her share of the time. I don’t think she appreciates it. She’s so caught up in her own bitterness. Dad seems to be coming to terms with living alone. He says he still misses our mom, but he seems to have realized he cannot win her back. He is a sentimental man, but he’s not stupid. He seems to have forgotten about our previous conversation about teasing. I am relieved.
July ‘82 Julie is driving now. She drives us to the pool and the mall. She has a boyfriend who seems kind of fast to me. She likes to drop me off and go off with her boyfriend for hours. That’s fine, I have my own friends. I just hope she doesn’t get herself into trouble. One day I see Amelia and Tex at the pool. They are as playful as two children. They have eyes only for each other. I have never seen her in a swimsuit before; she has a nice body. She doesn’t notice, but I see some of the other boys scoping her out, even popular boys who would never go near her in school. She is lean and willowy. She’s all legs. Her legs look toned, as if she is active. Her breasts are bigger than mine. But she will never be popular. I overhear two boys from my crowd, Brian Fitzsimmons and Joe Earhart, talking about her.
“Hey, who is that babe over there?” Brian asks.
“Where, that one?” Joe asks. I glance over and see him pointing at Amelia.
“Yeah! She looks pretty hot. Is she from around here?” Brian reaches for his glasses.
“Are you kidding? That’s Amelia Carson! Are you blind?” Joe says incredulously.
“Oh, yeah, you’re right. But look at her! Doesn’t she look hot?” I glance over again, and see both guys staring at Amelia. Brian has his glasses on, and is smiling appreciatively.
“Holy shit!” he exclaims. “She’s with Tex! He’s got his hands all over her.”
The guys are quiet for a while as they watch Amelia and Tex. Then Joe says, “Well, I used to think she was kind of scuzzy. But I think you’re right. She is hot! Who knows, maybe she’s getting laid. I’ve heard that can put the bloom on a girl!”
“Jesus!” Brian says. “Tex and Amelia! Go figure.” The guys’ attention soon wanders to other girls. I tire of hearing them size up every girl at the pool. I pick up my stuff and move to the other side of the pool.
At home Julie’s temper has cooled. Although she’s bitter, she’s given up fighting with our mom. She’s seen that it is no use. Although I don’t like it, I am growing accustomed to our new life.
October ’82 One weekend my dad takes me downtown. It’s a beautiful crisp day. The sun is shining, and I am elated to escape the suburbs. He accompanies me while I shop for clothing and shoes. He can’t afford much, but he wants me to have nice things. I am careful not to take advantage of him. As we sit by a window at a downtown café, he breaks some news to me.
“You know, Chris, you’re not going to believe this, but I’ve met someone. Her name is Lila. She has a son in Julie’s grade.” My dad beams at me.
“Oh, really?” I ask, wanting to be happy for him, but feeling sad. This new relationship seems like the last step in the breakup of our family.
“Yes! She is a lovely woman. She’s from Texas. Her husband left her. She was devastated. He stole his son’s truck when he left. They haven’t heard from him since. That was back in January.” My dad shakes his head in disbelief. Then a smile breaks out over his face once again. His eyes are shining. I hate to say it, but he has the glow of a man in love. My dad with another woman…
Suddenly, something clicks in my mind. “Did you say she’s from Texas?” I ask suspiciously.
“Yeah, honey. Why, do you know her son Leland?” my dad asks excitedly.
So that’s his name. Leland. I never knew it. “No, not really. But I’ve seen him around.” I’m not sure how to feel about this new development. My dad and Tex’s mom. Wow. That’s kind of crazy.
“Oh, Chris, you would just love him. He’s the nicest boy. He’s a real Southern gentleman,” my dad glows.
I look at him quizzically. “What does that mean, ‘Southern gentleman’?”
“Well, sweetie, he’s kind of old-fashioned. He brings his girlfriend flowers. He’s a true romantic. More important, he treats his mother like a queen. Now that his father is gone, he has stepped up to the role of man of the house.” My dad looks out the window, whimsically. He looks back at me. “How would you like to meet them sometime?”
Oh, shit, I think to myself. I wonder whether Julie knows? She would be completely mortified. “Have you mentioned this to Julie?” I ask, dodging his question for the moment.
“Not yet. I thought it would be nice if the four of us could have dinner. Would you like that?” he asks dreamily.
I look away. In my heart I feel joyful for him, but I feel pained. I have a feeling this is going to really get to Julie. It’s awkward for me, too. Someone like me shouldn’t really be friendly with Tex. This puts me in a tough spot, unless, well, there really isn’t any unless. I can see it now. We have dinner. Tex is a friendly sort. We’ll bump into each other in the halls, and he’ll greet me like an old friend. How do I explain that to my friends?
“Honey? What are you thinking? Does it make you feel bad that I’m dating?” he asks, worried.
“No, Dad, I’m really happy for you. I’m not sure I’m ready to meet Mrs…. What did you say her name was?” I hedge.
“Mrs. Gatlin. But I’m sure she would love you to call her Lila.” He smiles at me a little uncertainly. Then he says, “Chris, don’t worry about it. I understand if you need some time. This is all kind of new for you. Let’s talk about this some other time. Right now, let’s just talk about you! This is your day; your special day with your old dad.”
I can hardly suppress a giggle of relief and pleasure.
Christmas ‘ 82 Julie and I now have two separate “families” to celebrate with. There is my mom and Howard; and Mrs. Gatlin and Tex. Well, I guess I’d better get used to calling him Leland. It would be pretty embarrassing if I called him “Tex” to his face at a family gathering!
When we meet Mrs. Gatlin and Leland, they are everything that my dad said they were. She is a gracious, soft-spoken hostess, and he is unlike any of the boys I have met at school. He seems more like a man than a boy. He takes our coats, and asks us what we would like to drink. Julie looks almost ill. I feel somewhat uncomfortable myself. But it is Christmas, and when I see my dad with Mrs. Gatlin, I forget about school. I think my dad used the word “lovely” to describe Mrs. Gatlin. I could not have thought of a better word. They look like a real couple. She’s nothing like my mom. I can’t imagine a woman like her ever cheating on my dad. My heart does a somersault to think that he might not get his heart broken again. I resolve to deal with whatever I have to at school. I only hope that Julie will behave herself.
The four of us sit down at the dinner table for a Christmas feast. Mrs. Gatlin asks Leland to say the blessing. He reaches both of his hands out, clasping my hand in his left, and Julie’s in his right. His hand is large and warm. His grasp is firm but gentle. He gives us all a smile, and bows his head. He is eloquent, and thankfully, brief. I blush as he glances up at me while releasing my hand. He gives me a smile and a wink. I can’t help but to return his smile. He glances at Julie too. He smiles at her, and she manages a wan smile in return. She looks at me across the table and rolls her eyes. I just shrug.
Mrs. Gatlin’s voice is soft and musical. Like Leland, she has a Southern twang that, on her, is downright charming. She explains a dish that Julie is currently holding with a puzzled look.
“Julie, honey, that there is fried okra. Have you ever had okra before?” she asks, her eyes sparkling.
“No,” Julie answers.
“Well, okra’s a favorite in this family. Leland, darling, keep on passing the food,” she calls across the table to her son.
Leland gives his mom a big smile, and says, “Yes ma’am!”
Wow, he says “ma’am”, just like I would imagine a Southerner to do! Mrs. Gatlin wants to know all about Julie and me. It takes Julie a little while to warm up, but eventually she does. Julie enjoys talking about herself. I guess we all do. But Mrs. Gatlin found the best way to get into Julie’s good graces. By the end of the evening, my stomach hurts from laughing. Leland’s eyes have watered many times with laughter. My dad looks happier than I have seen him in a long time. He looks at Mrs. Gatlin with reverence. At one point, I catch him taking one of her hands in his own, and kissing it. She giggles like a girl. I look over at Julie. She doesn’t seem to be as happy as I feel.
In the car on the way home, I ask her what she thinks of the Gatlins. She doesn’t answer for a while. She lights a cigarette. I didn’t even know she was smoking. I give her some time. Then curiosity gets the better of me.
“So? What do you think? Dad sure looks happy,” I comment.
She sighs, tapping some cigarette ash into the car’s ashtray.
“What’s the matter?” I ask, a little impatiently.
She takes her eyes off the road for a moment to look at me. I see her eyes glistening with tears. I suck in my breath, surprised.
“Chris, I just wish Mom and Dad had never split. Mrs. Gatlin seems nice enough. But it’ll never be the same.”
I don’t know what to say. I never took Julie for being a sentimental one. But it looks like she is. I look out the window. Houses we pass are all decked out for Christmas. Christmas lights wink; plastic Santas and reindeer decorate rooftops. I guess Julie and I see things differently. I’m happy that our dad has found someone. After what Mom did, I can’t even imagine them together again.
January ’83 Back at school, I don’t call Leland “Tex”, and hope that no one notices. I never laugh when he can see, and when I laugh, I don’t mean it. If all these people who laughed at Leland got to know him, they would find out how cool he is. But I guess they’ll never know. No one has caught on to me yet. I’m crossing my fingers.
I think about what kind of friends I have, that I have to pretend to dislike someone that I actually like, and who is really nice. I am between a rock and a hard place. If I openly challenge the status quo, I could become an outcast. Then who would I have for friends? High school sucks. I think, too, about what my dad would think if he knew that I have teased Leland and Amelia. He would be crushed. He thinks I’m better than that. I don’t know. Maybe someday I can actually be that person he thinks I am. I wish we could move. I could start over; maybe I could even live with Dad and Mrs. Gatlin. Christ, then Leland would be my brother! That’s pretty funny. He’s a nice enough guy, he would probably never even ask me about the times I called him Tex. Sometimes, I think I would trade Julie for Leland if I had the choice.
March ‘83 It happens fast. My dad is gone in an instant. On a trip to Texas to visit the extended Gatlin family, my dad suffers a massive heart attack in a hotel room. He never has a chance. Whenever I try to talk about it with anyone, I can’t. I dissolve into tears. I realize how many dreams hung on my dad: my dream of a better family, and Mrs. Gatlin’s dream of a new family.
My mom, even though she is with Howard now, breaks down. She is wracked with guilt. She says over and over that he was a good man, and she never should have hurt him. She says that she never apologized to him. Now the chance is gone. She tells Howard that she needs time for herself. We prepare for the funeral. I agonize over just the best way to express my feelings about my dad as I compose a small speech to read at the service. Julie won’t talk to anyone. She has not handled any of this well; not our mom’s betrayal, and not our dad’s death. She missed out on her last chance to appreciate him. Who knew it would be her last chance? Now he is gone, and she has to live with herself, knowing she could’ve been with him more, she could’ve been there for him.
I am surprised at how many people turn up at the funeral. I guess I shouldn’t be. My dad was a wonderful guy. My mom, Julie, and I stand by the casket. My dad looks waxen. We are exhausted. We hear the same words over and over. “So sorry for your loss,” “He was a wonderful man,” “We will sure miss him,” and on and on. I don’t know whether our mom knows about Mrs. Gatlin and Leland. When they come through our receiving line, I greet them as friends. Julie is stiff, but polite. I see from my mom’s reaction that she has no idea who they are. She must be baffled by Mrs. Gatlin’s grief as she sobs over my dad’s body. I say nothing. Leland holds his mother as she weeps, talking to her quietly. She takes his arm, and he leads her to a chair. Our mom looks at each of us in turn and we both pretend we have no idea who they are. Even Julie knows that this is not the time to throw it in our mom’s face. Dad must not have thought she needed to know.
It’s amazing to think back to that time. High school was such an awful trap. I did things I was ashamed of, at first because I was thoughtless, and then because I was caught in my own trap. I didn’t have the courage then to risk my reputation in order to be honorable.
Mrs. Gatlin returned to Texas to be near her family. Leland became a career Army officer. He is stationed in Iraq. He works 16-hour days for our country. He is a family man, although he and Amelia never married. I lost track of Amelia. The period of time during which our lives intersected was too short. I hear from Mrs. Gatlin once a year at Christmas. We exchange Christmas cards with short letters. She never remarried.
I am proud of my daughters. I pay close attention to the content of their characters. I don’t leave it to chance. I know I can’t control who they become, but I can be more present in their lives than my mother was in mine. My husband, too, is attentive to his daughters. I make it sound like we are a perfect family! We are not. I simply try to avoid the mistakes of my parents, just as all parents do. And naturally, I try to pass on the wisdom I learned from my own mistakes.
It makes me sad that Julie didn’t seem to learn anything from those dark days. She had the same mother and father. We were sisters. What made us so different? I keep in touch just so we don’t lose touch. But the woman she grew into was not so different from the girl she was in high school. We don’t see my mother much, either. She and Howard went on to have a child together. I should feel drawn to this child; after all, she is my sister. But our family broke apart years ago. Even this child cannot pull us back together again. Perhaps had my dad lived, we would have behaved more like a family in his honor.
August ‘81. Julie and I are bored out of our skulls. It is a humid summer day. We are sitting outside our house in lawn chairs in the front yard. Flies buzz nearby. Cicadas thrum in the forest behind our house. There’s not a damn thing to do around here. It’s the suburbs, and Julie only has her learner’s permit, which means she can only drive with an adult. We don’t even live in a subdivision with a name like Hidden Valley or Rolling Meadows. The streets in our subdivision have stupid space age names, like Satellite Circle and Star Ridge Drive.
I look up, and that scuzzy little creep Amelia Carson, who just moved into the neighborhood, is walking by. Good, I think to myself. Something to do. I nudge Julie, and she winks at me.
“Hey, Scuzz, where do you think you’re going?” she taunts.
The girl glances over at us from behind her long, messy hair, and keeps walking without saying anything.
I chime in, “Scuzz, where’d you buy those clothes, K-Mart?”
Julie sniggers. Though we can never get her to lash out at us, we always hit home. The hurt shows on her face. Sometimes, her eyes water. We know she’s walking to her little friend’s house, around the corner. The two of them are so gay.
We’ve heard that her family comes from the city. She looks like no one ever taught her how to dress. She doesn’t wear designer clothes or even Levis and Nikes. She doesn’t seem to care what she looks like. She even wore bellbottoms to school one day. At the bus stop, we laughed at her, asking if she thought it was still the 70s. She always looks like she’s in her own little world. At school, she and her little friends keep to themselves. They are misfits. Julie and I are “popular” girls.
She disappears around the corner, and I look over at Julie. She looks as bored as I feel all over again. There’s nowhere to go. Well, there is the pool and the mall. They are kind of cool scenes. I get up to grab a popsicle from the kitchen. I ask Julie if she wants one. She tilts her head back to look up at me, and says, “Grab me a grape.” The house is nice and cool. I wonder how come we’re not sitting in here. I guess there’s even less to do inside. As I’m closing the front door, popsicles in hand, I see a familiar car turn into the street. It’s our mom.
I hear Julie mutter under her breath, “Here comes the slut.” I look at my sister, surprised.
I ask her, “Why’d ya call her a slut?” I’ve never heard her say that before.
Julie looks at me, unbelieving, and replies, “What, haven’t you figured it out?”
I just look at her. “Figured what out?”
Julie shakes her head. “Mom’s having an affair,” she sneers. “That makes her a slut.”
I watch as my mom’s car pulls into the driveway. I have no idea how to feel. I’m not sure I even believe it.
“How do you know?” I challenge her.
She looks at me over the tops of her glasses. “What, you haven’t seen her sneaking off to make secret phone calls? You haven’t wondered where she goes some nights?”
I guess I hadn’t. Maybe being older, Julie knows what to pay attention to. I feel kind of hollow. I feel real bad for our dad. I wonder if he knows? He’s kind of a pussycat: mild mannered, not assertive enough. Our mom has always pushed him around.
Apparently, Julie has the same thought I do. The minute our mom gets out of the car, she begs sweetly, “Hey, Mom! Can you take us to the pool? You could just drop us off.” It’s hot as hell today. What scrawny trees there are in this subdivision don’t make much shade. I begin to imagine the coolness of the pool water and scoping out all the cute guys.
Mom looks at us, sighs, and says, “Oh, why not?”
We hop up out of our lounge chairs and run upstairs to our bedrooms. I grab my suit out of a drawer, struggle out of my halter-top and short shorts, and wriggle into my suit. I turn this way and that in front of my princess mirror, trying to see if my tiny boobs have gotten any bigger. I can’t tell. I lean down in front of the mirror to see if I’ve got any cleavage. There’s only the faintest hint.
As I enter the hallway, I see Julie in her room applying sparkly blue eye shadow in front of her mirror. It strikes me as funny, since we’re going swimming. But I guess she’s going more for the boys. I walk down the steps slowly, practicing swaying my hips seductively. As my dad passes, below, he looks up at me. I flush, completely embarrassed. I wrap my towel around my hips. Seeing him reminds me of what Julie told me. He smiles at me, and I search his face for any trace that he might know about my mom.
“Going swimming, sweetie?” he asks in a friendly tone.
“Mmm hmm,” I mumble, embarrassed on his behalf. I avoid his eyes. I wait in the living room, cooled by the air-conditioning. Julie comes down the stairs gracefully. She’s obviously getting ready to be checked out by boys, too. She plops down on the couch beside me. Her hair is perfectly feathered. Her freckles give her a mischievous look. She’s wearing lip-gloss that smells like bubblegum.
September ‘81. School has started. There’s a new kid in Julie’s grade, a boy from Texas. He’s tall and wears cowboy boots, a leather vest, and a giant oval engraved belt buckle. He’s got a serious Texas twang. The kids seize upon this immediately, dubbing him “Tex”. They don’t mean it in a friendly way. He’s new blood, ripe for the kill. He just smiles wide, with lots of white teeth, and says “How y’all doin’?” He doesn’t rise to the bait.
We don’t see much of Amelia Carson in school except in the halls. She’s one of those smart kids. She’s in a bunch of AP classes. Julie’s got one or two classes with Tex, but he’s also in a bunch of AP classes. Makes me feel kind of shitty. I wonder why I’m not in any AP classes. I guess I’m just not smart enough. Damn them!
At home one night, our mom goes out. Our dad calls us into the living room. He asks us to sit down. He looks tense. Julie and I look at each other nervously.
“Girls, uh, I wish your mother could be here for this, but she can’t.” He clears his throat loudly. He drums his fingers against his knees nervously. I can feel my heart rate increasing. A knot forms in my stomach. I have a feeling I know what he’s about to say.
“Well, girls, your mother and I are separating. I’ll be moving out to an apartment. It’s possible… well, it’s possible that this is it for us.” His voice has gotten a bit shaky. He looks down at his shoes. Then he looks at each of us in turn. I have a lump in my throat, and think I’m about to cry. This can’t be us. Is our mom really having an affair, like Julie says? I feel just awful.
“Dad!” I plead, beginning to cry.
“Oh, Chris, don’t be such a baby!” Julie sneers. Then she looks at our dad, and says, “You’re better off without that slut anyhow.” Our dad stands up, steps across the carpet, and swiftly slaps Julie. His hand is shaking. He has never struck either of us before.
“Don’t ever speak about your mother that way again!” he says, his voice shaking. “I still love her. Separating is her idea.” He looks at Julie then he looks at me. I want to go to him, to comfort him. But the tension in the room stops me. Julie gets up and leaves.
“Julie! I am not finished!” our dad calls after her. He looks at me and says, “I want to be able to see you girls every week. I’m still your dad, and I still care what happens to you. I would like to come by on the weekends and pick you girls up.”
Then he glances in the direction Julie went. He asks me softly, “Would you like to see me separately? I could see you and Julie together or separately.” He waits while I think about it. Then I nod tentatively, also glancing in the direction Julie went. “Okay, then. Chris, I know this must be very hard for you, and I am so sorry to put you through it. I hope that somehow I can make it up to you.” I swipe at my nose with the back of my hand, and nod.
November ‘81. It’s been two months now. We’ve been seeing our dad on the weekends. I miss him, and I’ve come to distrust our mom. Our dad seems depressed. I guess he really does love her. I like seeing him without Julie. She’s been in a rotten mood, and has been super bitchy. It seems like she carries this huge chip on her shoulder. She’s nasty to our mom. Knowing Julie, she’s just covering up for how she really feels. I try to be cheerful when I see my dad. It’s hard, because he reminds me all over again of what I’m missing at home. My mom seems to be fine. I just can’t believe it. It’s like she doesn’t even miss him or something! Maybe she really is having an affair.
The big school dance is coming up. There’s a lot of whispering and speculation in the hallways about who might go with whom. I’m by some lockers talking to my friends when I see Amelia and Tex walk by, hand in hand. I just about drop my books. They look happy. I want to puke. She’s tall, but he’s taller. They stop by a classroom and he bends down to kiss her. I have to look away. I have no boyfriend. How come Amelia gets to have a boyfriend? On the other hand, who needs a boyfriend everyone makes fun of?
A man comes to our house one night. My mom explains that he’s a lawyer. They sit down at the dining room table. The man spreads paperwork out in front of my mom. They talk very quietly, so we can’t hear. I have trouble doing my homework. I have trouble concentrating in class. My life is falling apart.
At the bus stop in the mornings, we still tease Amelia. One morning, she snaps, and hurls a “Fuck you” our way. That’s the only time she has ever fought back. Julie and I look at each other, snickering, pleased to have gotten a reaction.
“Oooohhh,” Julie stretches the word out. “Is that all you can think of to say?” she sneers. “Not very original, Scuzz-ball,” she says. Amelia just turns away and pulls her book bag closer to her chest. We can’t see her face. I bet she’s crying. That’s the only time Amelia ever fights back. The next day, she’s not at the bus stop. We wonder whether she’s sick, or whether she’s “sick”. The following day her hair is brushed and shining. She’s wearing a dress. She’s even got a little makeup on. I can’t believe it. She actually looks kind of nice.
April ‘82 After five months of legal wrangling, my parents are officially divorced. My dad will never live with us again. I can’t believe it. I don’t resent our mom the way Julie does. She has gotten downright vicious with our mom. It’s painful to watch them. Sometimes, from my room, I can hear them squabbling. If I’m studying on my bed, I bury my head in my pillow, trying to block them out. One evening, I can’t stand it any more, so I go outside to take a walk. There are no sidewalks in our subdivision, but there is not much traffic either. It’s almost dark; I can hear the sounds of other families in their houses.
As I pass Amelia’s house, I notice her dad sweeping off the driveway. He looks up, and gives me an odd look. He stops sweeping, and just stares. I feel dread. I suppose Amelia has told her parents about us. Or at least her dad. Her dad, who still lives with her at her house. I notice that he’s handsome. After I have passed the house, I look back, and he’s gone back to sweeping. He whistles a tune I don’t recognize. He’s a very good whistler. I have seen Amelia and her dad in the park playing catch with a baseball. She looks at her dad in a way that reminds me of my dad and me. Maybe I get the same look on my face when I look at him.
Blocks in our subdivision are long, and I don’t feel like going around the whole block just to avoid Amelia’s house. I double back. By now it is dark, but porch lamps light my way. Mr. Carson is sitting on his porch smoking a pipe. I close my eyes and breath the pipe’s aroma with uneasy pleasure. His legs are crossed, and his long arms are stretched along the back of his bench. A twinge of envy hits me. I glance at him nervously as I pass.
Shockingly, he calls out, “Chris, is that you?” I am dumbfounded. “I would like to talk to you for a moment. Do you mind?” he calls.
My stomach is in knots. I guess I’m about to get a lecture. I stammer, “Uh, okay,” and take a few steps into the driveway.
“Come a little closer so we don’t have to shout,” he urges.
I take a few more steps, feeling sick. If Julie were here, I’d feel a lot braver.
“You are Chris, right?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I murmur.
“I understand that you and your sister are not terribly fond of my daughter Amelia. Is that correct? I don’t want to make any assumptions,” he says gently.
I twist my toe against his driveway. I can’t look at him. “Well, I… I… well, no, we don’t really know her.” It is the partial truth.
He puffs on his pipe thoughtfully, taking his time. I squirm. I never could have imagined having a conversation like this.
“Okay, well, would it be fair to say that you have had words with her? Do you know what I mean?” he asks softly.
I really don’t want to be having this conversation. I look up at him, and he must see the pained look on my face.
“Chris, I am not trying to give you a hard time. I just want to be sure that what my daughter tells me is a fair characterization. From what I understand, you and your sister are rather hard on my daughter. Do you think that’s a fair statement?”
My God, this guy sounds like a lawyer. “I guess so,” is the most I can manage.
“Fair enough, thanks for being honest,” he says kindly. “If you don’t mind, let me explain a few things.
“When we moved into this neighborhood, it was a huge adjustment for Amelia. She has always had trouble fitting in. It’s not my job to defend her. It would be better if she could defend herself. But, unfortunately, she’s rather shy. You might be surprised to know that she has a nickname for you and your sister.” He looks at me patiently.
“Oh, really?” I stammer, not wanting to know what it is. I wish I could just disappear.
He takes a breath, and continues, “She calls you two ‘The Animals’.” He looks at me. He puffs on his pipe, blowing the smoke heavenward. The sensation of dread mixed with the intoxicating aroma of his pipe is very strange.
“So, you’d like us to stop?” I probe.
“What I would like is for you to think about how what you are doing makes you feel about yourself. Will you do that for me?” he asks patiently.
I feel I have no choice but to agree. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”
“That’s terrific, Chris. I appreciate it. You seem like a nice kid.” He smiles at me.
I heave a sigh of relief. Perhaps this was a kind of lecture. But I don’t come away feeling chastised. My dad is kind, like this. He doesn’t talk as much; but he is gentle, like Amelia’s dad. I guess she’s a lucky girl. I hurry home, putting my conversation with Mr. Carson out of my mind. But it nags at me. When I think about it, I realize how remarkable it was.
May ’82 After a couple weeks, I can’t get Mr. Carson’s words out of my head. He has asked me to look inside myself. I realize it is not something I have done a whole lot. I wonder whether other people do it. I guess if my mom did it, maybe she would not have had the affair. It’s hard for me to think at home. I take another evening walk, hoping to clear my mind. I walk in the opposite direction this time. I don’t want to run into Mr. Carson tonight.
I realize that I have a grudging respect for Mr. Carson for speaking to me. If I were getting teased, I would just fight back. I kind of like a good fight. But I am not shy. I guess I can see how a shy person might need someone to speak up for her. If my dad spoke up for me and I were shy, I would be embarrassed. But if it made someone quit teasing me, I guess I’d be grateful.
I try to do Mr. Carson’s exercise. I think about all the times Julie and I have teased Amelia. It doesn’t seem that bad to me. Kids I know tease other kids all the time. Especially misfits. It has always been this way, ever since I can remember. Then I think about what Mr. Carson said - that Amelia has always had trouble fitting in. I wonder if kids at her other school teased her? Probably. I’ve always figured that’s just how things work. Some kids get teased, other kids do the teasing. I have always felt lucky to be the one doing the teasing. I don’t know. I’m having a hard time with this little “exercise”. It’s hard to think like somebody else.
I wonder if my dad was teased as a kid? I could see it. He’s not much of a fighter. He’s kind of shy, and he’s not very handsome. Maybe I could ask him whether he got teased. Then he could tell me what it felt like. Then maybe I would understand how Amelia feels. That weekend, as we eat lunch in the food court at the mall, I ask him. “Dad, did you ever get teased when you were a kid?” I keep my eyes on my food, trying to appear casual.
“Why, honey, is someone teasing you?” he asks, concerned. I shake my head vigorously.
“Dad! Of course not!” I deny. “But what about you? I’m just curious.” My dad looks puzzled.
“No, I didn’t get teased. But my best friend did. He was pretty shy, so I ended up sticking up for him a lot.” My dad shakes his head, remembering.
I’m not sure where to go with this. I was hoping to find out what it felt like to be teased.
My dad gives me a funny look. He tilts his head to the side a little bit. Then he asks, “Chris, don’t tell me you are teasing other kids. You’re not, are you?” This question hurts. I’m stymied. I don’t like lying to my dad, but I don’t want to admit to him that I tease Amelia, either.
“Chris?” he probes. I can feel my face getting hot. I hope I’m not blushing. “Look, you can tell me. I won’t be angry.”
I have a really hard time answering him. Even if he wouldn’t be angry, like he says, I think he’d be disappointed. I decide not to tell him.
“No, Dad. I’m not teasing anyone,” I lie, hating it. Now my lie sits between us on the table. I know it’s there, and maybe he does, too. I feel shame. I quickly change the subject, hoping to rescue the afternoon. I vow never to lie to him again.
After that visit, I stop teasing Amelia. I don’t suppose this is what Mr. Carson had in mind, but he would be happy with the result.
June ’82 Amelia and Tex are still together long after the fall dance. They must be going steady. School is almost out for the summer. One night a strange man comes to our house. Our mom introduces him as Howard. He will be having dinner with us. She calls him her ‘friend’. She is unusually animated. She tries a little bit too hard. Howard is laid-back. I want to like him, but he may have played a role in the breakup of our family. Julie is downright hostile. I guess now my mom’s relationship is unofficially official. Now we see Howard once or twice a week. I wonder whether or not to mention him to our dad. I think not.
I’m still not sure whether my mom was seeing Howard before our dad moved out. One night, after dinner, I decide to test her.
“So, Mom, Howard seems nice,” I say.
“Really, honey? Do you really like him?” she asks a bit too eagerly.
“Sure, Mom. So, uh, how long have you known Howard?” I ask, hoping to sound casual. I watch her face closely.
“Well, let’s see,” she says. She takes a little bit too long to answer. I can almost see her mentally constructing a story to tell me. I can’t believe she hasn’t already thought of one.
I tap my toe impatiently. “Well, how did you meet him?”
She laughs nervously, playing with a lock of her hair.
I am disgusted. I turn around without waiting for an answer, and go to my room. Below, I hear her calling out to me.
“Chris, honey? Where are you going? What the…”
I treasure my time with my dad. There is so little of it. It’s only on the weekends, and I have to share it with Julie. Sometimes I wish I could have her share of the time. I don’t think she appreciates it. She’s so caught up in her own bitterness. Dad seems to be coming to terms with living alone. He says he still misses our mom, but he seems to have realized he cannot win her back. He is a sentimental man, but he’s not stupid. He seems to have forgotten about our previous conversation about teasing. I am relieved.
July ‘82 Julie is driving now. She drives us to the pool and the mall. She has a boyfriend who seems kind of fast to me. She likes to drop me off and go off with her boyfriend for hours. That’s fine, I have my own friends. I just hope she doesn’t get herself into trouble. One day I see Amelia and Tex at the pool. They are as playful as two children. They have eyes only for each other. I have never seen her in a swimsuit before; she has a nice body. She doesn’t notice, but I see some of the other boys scoping her out, even popular boys who would never go near her in school. She is lean and willowy. She’s all legs. Her legs look toned, as if she is active. Her breasts are bigger than mine. But she will never be popular. I overhear two boys from my crowd, Brian Fitzsimmons and Joe Earhart, talking about her.
“Hey, who is that babe over there?” Brian asks.
“Where, that one?” Joe asks. I glance over and see him pointing at Amelia.
“Yeah! She looks pretty hot. Is she from around here?” Brian reaches for his glasses.
“Are you kidding? That’s Amelia Carson! Are you blind?” Joe says incredulously.
“Oh, yeah, you’re right. But look at her! Doesn’t she look hot?” I glance over again, and see both guys staring at Amelia. Brian has his glasses on, and is smiling appreciatively.
“Holy shit!” he exclaims. “She’s with Tex! He’s got his hands all over her.”
The guys are quiet for a while as they watch Amelia and Tex. Then Joe says, “Well, I used to think she was kind of scuzzy. But I think you’re right. She is hot! Who knows, maybe she’s getting laid. I’ve heard that can put the bloom on a girl!”
“Jesus!” Brian says. “Tex and Amelia! Go figure.” The guys’ attention soon wanders to other girls. I tire of hearing them size up every girl at the pool. I pick up my stuff and move to the other side of the pool.
At home Julie’s temper has cooled. Although she’s bitter, she’s given up fighting with our mom. She’s seen that it is no use. Although I don’t like it, I am growing accustomed to our new life.
October ’82 One weekend my dad takes me downtown. It’s a beautiful crisp day. The sun is shining, and I am elated to escape the suburbs. He accompanies me while I shop for clothing and shoes. He can’t afford much, but he wants me to have nice things. I am careful not to take advantage of him. As we sit by a window at a downtown café, he breaks some news to me.
“You know, Chris, you’re not going to believe this, but I’ve met someone. Her name is Lila. She has a son in Julie’s grade.” My dad beams at me.
“Oh, really?” I ask, wanting to be happy for him, but feeling sad. This new relationship seems like the last step in the breakup of our family.
“Yes! She is a lovely woman. She’s from Texas. Her husband left her. She was devastated. He stole his son’s truck when he left. They haven’t heard from him since. That was back in January.” My dad shakes his head in disbelief. Then a smile breaks out over his face once again. His eyes are shining. I hate to say it, but he has the glow of a man in love. My dad with another woman…
Suddenly, something clicks in my mind. “Did you say she’s from Texas?” I ask suspiciously.
“Yeah, honey. Why, do you know her son Leland?” my dad asks excitedly.
So that’s his name. Leland. I never knew it. “No, not really. But I’ve seen him around.” I’m not sure how to feel about this new development. My dad and Tex’s mom. Wow. That’s kind of crazy.
“Oh, Chris, you would just love him. He’s the nicest boy. He’s a real Southern gentleman,” my dad glows.
I look at him quizzically. “What does that mean, ‘Southern gentleman’?”
“Well, sweetie, he’s kind of old-fashioned. He brings his girlfriend flowers. He’s a true romantic. More important, he treats his mother like a queen. Now that his father is gone, he has stepped up to the role of man of the house.” My dad looks out the window, whimsically. He looks back at me. “How would you like to meet them sometime?”
Oh, shit, I think to myself. I wonder whether Julie knows? She would be completely mortified. “Have you mentioned this to Julie?” I ask, dodging his question for the moment.
“Not yet. I thought it would be nice if the four of us could have dinner. Would you like that?” he asks dreamily.
I look away. In my heart I feel joyful for him, but I feel pained. I have a feeling this is going to really get to Julie. It’s awkward for me, too. Someone like me shouldn’t really be friendly with Tex. This puts me in a tough spot, unless, well, there really isn’t any unless. I can see it now. We have dinner. Tex is a friendly sort. We’ll bump into each other in the halls, and he’ll greet me like an old friend. How do I explain that to my friends?
“Honey? What are you thinking? Does it make you feel bad that I’m dating?” he asks, worried.
“No, Dad, I’m really happy for you. I’m not sure I’m ready to meet Mrs…. What did you say her name was?” I hedge.
“Mrs. Gatlin. But I’m sure she would love you to call her Lila.” He smiles at me a little uncertainly. Then he says, “Chris, don’t worry about it. I understand if you need some time. This is all kind of new for you. Let’s talk about this some other time. Right now, let’s just talk about you! This is your day; your special day with your old dad.”
I can hardly suppress a giggle of relief and pleasure.
Christmas ‘ 82 Julie and I now have two separate “families” to celebrate with. There is my mom and Howard; and Mrs. Gatlin and Tex. Well, I guess I’d better get used to calling him Leland. It would be pretty embarrassing if I called him “Tex” to his face at a family gathering!
When we meet Mrs. Gatlin and Leland, they are everything that my dad said they were. She is a gracious, soft-spoken hostess, and he is unlike any of the boys I have met at school. He seems more like a man than a boy. He takes our coats, and asks us what we would like to drink. Julie looks almost ill. I feel somewhat uncomfortable myself. But it is Christmas, and when I see my dad with Mrs. Gatlin, I forget about school. I think my dad used the word “lovely” to describe Mrs. Gatlin. I could not have thought of a better word. They look like a real couple. She’s nothing like my mom. I can’t imagine a woman like her ever cheating on my dad. My heart does a somersault to think that he might not get his heart broken again. I resolve to deal with whatever I have to at school. I only hope that Julie will behave herself.
The four of us sit down at the dinner table for a Christmas feast. Mrs. Gatlin asks Leland to say the blessing. He reaches both of his hands out, clasping my hand in his left, and Julie’s in his right. His hand is large and warm. His grasp is firm but gentle. He gives us all a smile, and bows his head. He is eloquent, and thankfully, brief. I blush as he glances up at me while releasing my hand. He gives me a smile and a wink. I can’t help but to return his smile. He glances at Julie too. He smiles at her, and she manages a wan smile in return. She looks at me across the table and rolls her eyes. I just shrug.
Mrs. Gatlin’s voice is soft and musical. Like Leland, she has a Southern twang that, on her, is downright charming. She explains a dish that Julie is currently holding with a puzzled look.
“Julie, honey, that there is fried okra. Have you ever had okra before?” she asks, her eyes sparkling.
“No,” Julie answers.
“Well, okra’s a favorite in this family. Leland, darling, keep on passing the food,” she calls across the table to her son.
Leland gives his mom a big smile, and says, “Yes ma’am!”
Wow, he says “ma’am”, just like I would imagine a Southerner to do! Mrs. Gatlin wants to know all about Julie and me. It takes Julie a little while to warm up, but eventually she does. Julie enjoys talking about herself. I guess we all do. But Mrs. Gatlin found the best way to get into Julie’s good graces. By the end of the evening, my stomach hurts from laughing. Leland’s eyes have watered many times with laughter. My dad looks happier than I have seen him in a long time. He looks at Mrs. Gatlin with reverence. At one point, I catch him taking one of her hands in his own, and kissing it. She giggles like a girl. I look over at Julie. She doesn’t seem to be as happy as I feel.
In the car on the way home, I ask her what she thinks of the Gatlins. She doesn’t answer for a while. She lights a cigarette. I didn’t even know she was smoking. I give her some time. Then curiosity gets the better of me.
“So? What do you think? Dad sure looks happy,” I comment.
She sighs, tapping some cigarette ash into the car’s ashtray.
“What’s the matter?” I ask, a little impatiently.
She takes her eyes off the road for a moment to look at me. I see her eyes glistening with tears. I suck in my breath, surprised.
“Chris, I just wish Mom and Dad had never split. Mrs. Gatlin seems nice enough. But it’ll never be the same.”
I don’t know what to say. I never took Julie for being a sentimental one. But it looks like she is. I look out the window. Houses we pass are all decked out for Christmas. Christmas lights wink; plastic Santas and reindeer decorate rooftops. I guess Julie and I see things differently. I’m happy that our dad has found someone. After what Mom did, I can’t even imagine them together again.
January ’83 Back at school, I don’t call Leland “Tex”, and hope that no one notices. I never laugh when he can see, and when I laugh, I don’t mean it. If all these people who laughed at Leland got to know him, they would find out how cool he is. But I guess they’ll never know. No one has caught on to me yet. I’m crossing my fingers.
I think about what kind of friends I have, that I have to pretend to dislike someone that I actually like, and who is really nice. I am between a rock and a hard place. If I openly challenge the status quo, I could become an outcast. Then who would I have for friends? High school sucks. I think, too, about what my dad would think if he knew that I have teased Leland and Amelia. He would be crushed. He thinks I’m better than that. I don’t know. Maybe someday I can actually be that person he thinks I am. I wish we could move. I could start over; maybe I could even live with Dad and Mrs. Gatlin. Christ, then Leland would be my brother! That’s pretty funny. He’s a nice enough guy, he would probably never even ask me about the times I called him Tex. Sometimes, I think I would trade Julie for Leland if I had the choice.
March ‘83 It happens fast. My dad is gone in an instant. On a trip to Texas to visit the extended Gatlin family, my dad suffers a massive heart attack in a hotel room. He never has a chance. Whenever I try to talk about it with anyone, I can’t. I dissolve into tears. I realize how many dreams hung on my dad: my dream of a better family, and Mrs. Gatlin’s dream of a new family.
My mom, even though she is with Howard now, breaks down. She is wracked with guilt. She says over and over that he was a good man, and she never should have hurt him. She says that she never apologized to him. Now the chance is gone. She tells Howard that she needs time for herself. We prepare for the funeral. I agonize over just the best way to express my feelings about my dad as I compose a small speech to read at the service. Julie won’t talk to anyone. She has not handled any of this well; not our mom’s betrayal, and not our dad’s death. She missed out on her last chance to appreciate him. Who knew it would be her last chance? Now he is gone, and she has to live with herself, knowing she could’ve been with him more, she could’ve been there for him.
I am surprised at how many people turn up at the funeral. I guess I shouldn’t be. My dad was a wonderful guy. My mom, Julie, and I stand by the casket. My dad looks waxen. We are exhausted. We hear the same words over and over. “So sorry for your loss,” “He was a wonderful man,” “We will sure miss him,” and on and on. I don’t know whether our mom knows about Mrs. Gatlin and Leland. When they come through our receiving line, I greet them as friends. Julie is stiff, but polite. I see from my mom’s reaction that she has no idea who they are. She must be baffled by Mrs. Gatlin’s grief as she sobs over my dad’s body. I say nothing. Leland holds his mother as she weeps, talking to her quietly. She takes his arm, and he leads her to a chair. Our mom looks at each of us in turn and we both pretend we have no idea who they are. Even Julie knows that this is not the time to throw it in our mom’s face. Dad must not have thought she needed to know.
It’s amazing to think back to that time. High school was such an awful trap. I did things I was ashamed of, at first because I was thoughtless, and then because I was caught in my own trap. I didn’t have the courage then to risk my reputation in order to be honorable.
Mrs. Gatlin returned to Texas to be near her family. Leland became a career Army officer. He is stationed in Iraq. He works 16-hour days for our country. He is a family man, although he and Amelia never married. I lost track of Amelia. The period of time during which our lives intersected was too short. I hear from Mrs. Gatlin once a year at Christmas. We exchange Christmas cards with short letters. She never remarried.
I am proud of my daughters. I pay close attention to the content of their characters. I don’t leave it to chance. I know I can’t control who they become, but I can be more present in their lives than my mother was in mine. My husband, too, is attentive to his daughters. I make it sound like we are a perfect family! We are not. I simply try to avoid the mistakes of my parents, just as all parents do. And naturally, I try to pass on the wisdom I learned from my own mistakes.
It makes me sad that Julie didn’t seem to learn anything from those dark days. She had the same mother and father. We were sisters. What made us so different? I keep in touch just so we don’t lose touch. But the woman she grew into was not so different from the girl she was in high school. We don’t see my mother much, either. She and Howard went on to have a child together. I should feel drawn to this child; after all, she is my sister. But our family broke apart years ago. Even this child cannot pull us back together again. Perhaps had my dad lived, we would have behaved more like a family in his honor.
