Chapter 1.
“You don’t even know these people.”
“Well, yeah, Jesse. That’s the point, you know? I’ve never had any family other than my dad. Never even knew they existed.” I was holding a duffel bag in each hand, trying to determine the likelihood that I would be able to do laundry, so I could bring less stuff. Fuck it, if I can’t I’ll find a Laundromat. Or buy new ones. I chose the smaller one and started sorting through the least worn underwear. (No one takes the old underwear when they travel. If someone were to break into your suitcase, they must think that your underwear is all new, all the time.)
I’ve heard that crossed arms - like the ones he’s got pointed at me -are a sign of being in an inflexible state of mind. See also: stubbornness, unwillingness to bend. If I had free hands he’d be getting them back, in spades. Body language is fascinating.
“I could pretend that I don’t care, but you know that’s not like me. “ At least, I think you know that. The truth is that I never really thought to wonder about where my dad came from when I was younger. I don’t know, do kids ever really think about things like that? I mean, I remember noticing that my family wasn’t big like this friends…that my holidays weren’t such a big deal as everyone else’s. I suppose I was a little jealous of an experience that I never really experienced from the inside, but my dad was enough for me. He was extraordinary. He wanted so much for me, and for his life, it was hard not to think I was the luckiest girl in the world. We had each other - and we were all the “family unit” we needed. We had each other, in a very family sitcom kind of way.
Maybe Jesse has a point? Why would I want to do anything to change the image of my father, even a little - now that he can do nothing to fill in the gaps? What if I forever change the way I think about him. There’s no going back from this. Even if staying here and pretending those people don’t exist is a huge, hairy lie that I know I would never be able to follow through on, I at least contemplated it. For all of twenty minutes.
Also, I once spent a thanksgiving at my best friend Crys’ house, with her whole, extended, drunken family…and, for lack of a better term, that shit was fucked up. I think it made me feel better to see that “normal” families were totally overrated. However, I have to admit that when my father’s lawyer called me to ask if I was interested in meeting my dad’s family, I was relieved. I wasn’t as alone as I felt. Yeah, I’m also a little girl missing her daddy.
“What am I supposed to do? We had plans.” The arms were still in place, and had been joined by a look that might be described as “pouty”.
“Jesse, we decided to stay home in our pajamas, watch football, and eat takeout. That’s not “plans” You actually have a family. Your mother has called four times this week to see if you’re coming to their Thanksgiving. Go, please - and make your mom happy. She already thinks I don’t let you out to play with the other kids.” His arms dropped and he looked at his feet. Ha-ha, someone was caught not wanting to talk to their mother.
“Yeah. Okay.” He looked back up, clearly trying to remember that he was mad. “I bet they just want your dad’s money. Why else…after all this time?”
I sighed audibly. “The lawyer said that they’re pretty well off people; they practically own this little town they live in. He also said that my father’s will is very clear and that his assets are well protected, but I appreciate the concern. Besides, apparently he did leave them something. Lawyer already went out there to talk to them and have some paperwork signed.”
“Did they know about you?”
“You know, I’m not even sure. I guess that would depend on when he left there. It sounds like he never spoke to them after he left, so I guess that it’s possible they didn’t.” I had tried to do some math in my head, but I didn’t really know when he left home, so it was pretty pointless.
“What if they’re dicks? I mean, your dad left them - apparently without a single glance back. Your dad was a good guy…he must have had his reasons.”
I stopped stuffing clothes into the bag and walked over to him, circled his waist with my arms.
“Yes, dear, they could be dicks, but I have to know. I knew my dad. I mean, in all the important ways to know one’s father, I knew him. We were closer than any father and daughter I know. But this is all new information, and I have to know. I have to see what they have to tell me and see if there’s anything worthwhile they can contribute to the picture of him that I will carry around with me for the rest of my life. It could be of value, it could be a waste of time, but I have to know.” I laid my face on his chest and hugged him tight. “It’s only a couple of weeks. If it sucks, it will be far less than that, and I will come back and we can resume our original Thanksgiving “plans”, as it were. Okay?”
He resumed the pout, but looked me in the eye and nodded his reluctant assent.
“…and if they are dicks, maybe they will be entertaining dicks, so I can at least get a good story out of it.”