Twisted Family Values

by V. C. Chickering

  “A stick? Was that a Hogwarts broom thing?” asked Ruby. She honestly didn’t know.

  “A manual shift car. I’ll teach you someday. So your Uncle Charlie intercepted me and asked where I was going, and I told him about the ice, and he said he would drive me because he needed a break.”

  Ruby turned to Charlie. “You wanted to leave your own party?”

  “People take breaks from parties all the time. We’re doing it now.”

  “Oh, true. Okay, then what?”

  Biz continued, “So we went to get ice and started talking and on the way back got into deep conversation very quickly…” Biz trailed off, her attention caught by what was left of the tree house high in a towering maple. Her throat tightened as she thought about that night. She found it difficult to look directly at Ruby.

  Charlie noticed her eyes misting a little and jumped in. “So we were talking, and that led to, um, not talking, and I got out of the car and climbed up the ladder.”

  Biz pointed to a partial platform with a dangling, rotted railing. Ruby craned her neck. “That thing? You two were whack.”

  Charlie said, “We were a little drunk—”

  “I was a lot drunk,” said Biz, “and I was wearing a dress with the biggest shoulder pads you’ve ever seen in your life.”

  “Like a linebacker,” Charlie added.

  “But I was game,” continued Biz. “And the tree house was awesome back then. It was like a cozy fort up in the air, with double-hung windows, and curtains…”

  “And a bed?” Ruby asked.

  “A futon couch,” Charlie said, glazing over. The room was coming back into focus. “Covered in pollen, as I recall.”

  Ruby said, “Ah. Ye olde futon couch. They factored largely into your generation, didn’t they? All my friends’ parents had them in their basements growing up.”

  Biz said, “How would you … You know what? Don’t tell me.” They all stood wordless for a moment, drinking in the last vestiges of where Ruby might have been conceived as if they were looking at the detritus of a shipwreck.

  “And the ice?” Ruby asked after a reasonable pause.

  “Soaked the back of Foster’s car. But we salvaged some of it. We weren’t, um, long.”

  “So, a quickie? I was possibly conceived in a quickie?”

  “It was slightly more romantic than that,” said Charlie.

  “Only slightly,” Biz said, and Ruby laughed. Biz felt a deeply profound sense of relief to be telling her story to Ruby, as if the shell around her heart were finally breaking open, letting in sunlight, allowing it to beat freely. “It was a … decidedly poor choice.”

  “You and your ‘Make good choices.’ What a killjoy,” said Ruby. “And what a hypocrite!”

  “If you want me to be brutally honest, I think I was worried I was on the verge of losing my best friend. In my day, wives didn’t let their new husbands keep contact with their former female friends. Once a guy got married, that was it, finito. Those friendships ended.”

  “Why?”

  “There was no Facebook. No texting or Insta, no way to keep in touch, and phone calls and letters seemed too intimate.”

  Charlie added, “Because they were intimate.”

  Biz continued, “The wives felt threatened—sad but true—so I panicked, plain and simple. I felt this was the end of us and I think I just wanted a souvenir piece of him for myself.”

  Charlie smirked, “So to speak.”

  Ruby said, “Ew, that’s gross.”

  Biz rolled her eyes, then elbowed him in the ribs.

  “So what you’re saying is, I’m like a key chain?” Ruby joked.

  Biz said, “You’re more than a souvenir.”

  Charlie added, “Only slightly. But to be serious, I want to add, I felt the same way for the same reasons. I think I thought this would keep us connected to each other even if our lives became separate. I knew it was wrong, obviously, but…” Here Charlie paused, then looked away. “I’d always felt the rules didn’t apply to us.”

  Ruby snickered. “God, you guys sure did lead a life of privilege. I’ve wondered if you were ever self-aware enough to notice. All of you in your tiny white world, forging ahead as if nothing else existed. Well, I exist, so thanks for conceiving me. I’m hella glad to be out in the actual world. Let’s hope I’m more self-aware than you two. Kidding, not kidding. You guys are great.” Ruby got off her high horse and looked at her mother and her Uncle Charlie. “And how do you both feel about each other now?”

  Neither of them said a word, so they all just turned and headed back. It was a topic for which neither of them had prepared.

  …

  * * *

  By Tuesday, Claire was fully moved out, and painters were scraping flocked wallpaper, and painting every room a dismal—yet inexplicably popular—shade of putty gray. She was doing her level best to keep from feeling any sense of regret. A final walk through the formerly vibrant and colorful house offered only echoes and scuff marks to remind her of the past. The stagers had brought in their own “fresh and updated” furnishings, which had offended Claire to no end. To keep things cheery, Rah gathered all the women on Cat’s backyard patio. It was time to write out table-number cards and tie rainbow ribbons around Almond Joys. Looking to spark a lively debate, Rah asked the group, “To what do you think we owe the Thornden downfall?” Cat scoffed, but Biz hit the table with her palm and said, “Ding! My drunken car accident, hands down.” Ruby also hit a pretend buzzer and offered, “I would have said your bastard child takes the cake.” Biz said, “I get it. Cake. I’m a baker. Hardy-har.” Cat said, “My affair with Ned definitely got the ball rolling.” Georgia hit the table and opined, “E.J.’s comedy set was the straw, for sure.” Ruby said, “What comedy set?” and they all colluded in pretending not to hear her. Rah suggested it was Georgia’s arrest that did them in. Georgia grinned and said, “Or what about the whole Charlie-might-be-Ruby’s-dad thing?”

  Ruby jumped in. “That gets my vote.”

  “Piper’s affair,” reminded Biz.

  “Foster’s affair,” Georgia added, then, “My affair!” and they all laughed.

  Nana Miggs said quietly, “My affair,” and their eyes grew as wide as their smiles.

  “I don’t like this game,” said Claire.

  “Well, I’m playing the bride card,” said Rah, and pointed to Susan, who hit the table and then threw all vest-wearing lesbians under the bus. Cat guffawed, so Rah rebutted by throwing all divorcées under there with them. Ruby reminded everyone of her mother’s scandal with Finn at the bakery, which Biz pointed out wouldn’t have been a scandal if she hadn’t called 911, then texted all her friends. Nana Miggs winked at Ruby and said, “Nice going, kid.” Ruby chuckled, embarrassed, then added, “Or was it Aunt Cat and the principal?”

  “Oh, yes!” said Biz, turning to Aunt Cat. “I’ve always meant to ask—”

  “Mom!” gasped Rah. Her face was shocked; she’d never heard. Aunt Cat collected her thoughts, then spoke sheepishly. “There might have been ten minutes in there between your father and Ned…” Howls overtook the room as Susan slung her arm around Rah, who hung her head in her hands for comic effect. Biz and Georgia fanned themselves—hot flashes taking over—and Rah said to Susan, “Are you sure you want to marry into this cockamamie family of dysfunction? You could get up from the table now and run as fast as you can…”

  “I couldn’t be more sure,” said Susan, and planted a sweet kiss on Rah’s lips.

  Cat said, “Well, I think we’re damn lucky to have you.”

  “Thanks. I think you are, too,” cracked Susan. The room broke up. “Notice I’m waiting until after we’re legally married before I let you all really get to know my family.” More chuckling as each woman was warmed by Susan’s love for their caring Rah. Susan continued, “Honestly, I couldn’t be more impressed that you’re all still speaking to one another. In my family … forget it.”

  Biz said, “Sometimes I think life is just one
long painful repeat exercise in forgiving everyone.”

  Georgia added, “And ourselves.”

  “Yes. Boy, oh, boy. Especially ourselves.”

  Claire rolled her eyes as she lit a cigarette. Cat noticed her derision and said, “Still think this family’s reputation is salvageable?” Claire looked around the table at all the bright, expectant smiles. Everyone seemed to be trying to find their way. They’d all made poor choices, and she had, too. In that moment Claire chose to accept the reality that none of their children had turned out the way she’d planned. And that was okay. It would have to be. They had done their Thornden best.

  Biz said, “Well, Mom? What’s the verdict?”

  Claire exhaled a thin plume of smoke. “I give up. I’ve decided to no longer care.”

  The women looked agape at one another, then erupted into raucous cheers.

  * * *

  The day before the wedding, the bakery was humming. Muriel pulled the cake layers out of the freezer ahead of time, and Biz came in early to do the filling and crumb coating. Georgia joined them in the back after assembly and frosting were complete so they could all decorate it together. Rah’s directions to them had been “Knock yourselves out,” so they planned to do just that. Huddled around a chocolate cake holding pastry bags in different shades of green Swiss meringue icing, they wore BERNADETTA’S aprons and sipped coffee while they worked. Except for Biz, who was taking a brief dance break to sing along to “Put Your Records On” beneath the framed NO SMOKING, BIZ! sign. Muriel had hung it with mockery years ago, and though the laws had become more strict and Biz had long since quit, they left it up for comic relief.

  Muriel hadn’t changed save for an additional fifteen “happy” pounds she’d put on since she and Finn got together. They made her hourglass figure look even more lush, and she radiated the energy of a woman cherished by the right man. Muriel was extremely generous with Biz and bestowed upon her an oeuvre of cake-decorating expertise. Biz blossomed once she made peace with her default career and began to respect the discipline and finesse inherent in the cakely arts. She fully embraced gum-paste sculpture as the means of indulging her creative whimsy; her cakes impressed the hell out of patrons and bakers alike. It took time and effort, but the practice was worth it—Biz felt a creative resurgence. Her new bliss was wild cake embellishment and she thanked the universe every night.

  Biz inched the tall fondant-covered cake around slowly on a raised rotating iron stand while applying diagonal stripes of buttercream frosting in shades of chartreuse and parakeet green. It was meant to suggest the forest where Rah and Susan met on a college birding trip. Georgia and Muriel, in charge of gum-paste birds and wildflowers, were succeeding and failing with various degrees of charm. There was also an attempt at matching sleeping bags and pajamas. And two statuettes of lady birders, with oversized binoculars trained on each other, were awaiting placement on center top.

  Finn walked upstairs from his shared basement office, where Muriel was helping him learn a new bookkeeping program for his business. He laughed as soon as he saw the cake. Biz said, “Excellent! That’s the reaction we’re going for. We hope to make the bride and bride giggle.” With wide open arms he boomed, “Hello, darlings! Give us some kisses.” Finn was genuinely pleased to see Biz and Georgia there. He walked around the table, giving them both pecks on the cheek, then landed a juicy one on Muriel with a warm embrace.

  “Thanks for the sugar, sugar,” she said, and returned his randy smirk. “Hey, do us a favor, will ya? Load these into the car. Cookies first, then come back for the cake.”

  A lithe, tanned blond woman in a linen sundress and boho sandals peeked around a tall rack of baking sheets. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I was told the bathroom was through the kitchen.”

  Finn said, “Oh, hey, Amanda. Right through here.”

  Biz spat, “Tindy?! Wow. Finn?” It was Tindy-friggin’-Weldon.

  Finn said, “I’ve been working for Amanda off and on for years. How do you two—”

  “We roomed together in college.” Biz forced a thin grin as she introduced Tindy to Georgia and Muriel, whose names she promptly forgot. Once recovered, Biz said by way of welcome, “How are you, Tindy? I mean, Amanda. What brings you into Bernadetta’s bakery?”

  “I’m picking up a strawberry rhubarb pie.” Tindy’s smile was nervous, genuine, and shy. Biz’s smile was frozen and totally unnatural. “Yum,” she managed to add. Then Finn broke the awkwardness. “Well, it was nice running into you.” Everyone nodded like idiots in agreement.

  “Yes. Me, too. Oh, and I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night at your cousin’s wedding.”

  “You will?” Biz was thrown, yet again. Tindy continued tentatively. “Um, I have plans I can’t cancel, but Charlie told me it was casual and that I should stop by afterwards for dancing.”

  Georgia blurted out, “Charlie Charlie?” then felt like a total dork.

  Muriel glossed over her remark. “How lovely. Like as his date?”

  Tindy shook her head. “Um, no. Or, I don’t think so. I’m single. Divorced, so maybe. But … I’m not sure. I just bumped into him at The Wonder at a birthday party for my son.”

  In a gesture of supreme generosity, Biz rescued the moment. “It doesn’t matter. Come as you are. We’d love to have you. It’ll be nice to catch up and for Charlie to have a dance partner. He loves to dance.”

  Tindy lit up. “Oh, so do I!”

  “Okay, then,” said Muriel, with slightly less generosity.

  “Okay. I’ll use the restroom,” said Tindy, and ducked behind the door.

  Georgia whispered, “Is anyone going to ask her if she had an affair with Charlie while—”

  Biz elbowed Georgia, “No, shh,” then added, “She seems nice.” Finn offered, “She is. Lovely woman. Pleasure working with her. Always pays on time, mannerly.”

  Biz said in a hushed tone, “Of course she is. And she looks fucking fabulous. I know you’re all thinking it. I am. Why couldn’t she be a bitch? Or have leprosy or a hump?” Biz felt a hot flash begin to well inside and take over her sweaty body’s useless, broken temperature gauge. She unbuttoned her blouse as low as decorum would civilly allow, grabbed a flattened cupcake box, and fanned herself like a maniac. “Of course I’m flashing, adding insult to injury. She probably doesn’t even get them.”

  Georgia said, “Why are you getting so uppity? I thought you’d be happy for him—”

  Muriel startled in her chair a little. “Oh, crap.”

  Biz said, “What?” so she wouldn’t have to address Georgia’s remark.

  “Is now the time to tell you that Hugh finally eloped with that dental hygienist?”

  Finn said, “The one with the big boobs?”

  Biz asked, “Once a fallback, always a fallback. There goes my chance.”

  “Bullshit. You had your chance for nine years!”

  Biz said, “People can simmer on your back burner for a very long time. What made you think of that, Muriel—does she have leprosy?”

  “No,” said Muriel sheepishly, “she’s gorgeous. And young.”

  “Nope,” Biz said, still fanning herself, processing the information, turning it over in her head. “Not a good time,” she said, and tried not to cry.

  “I didn’t think so,” said Muriel, and grabbed a flattened box to help fan. “Definitely not a good time.”

  * * *

  On the big day, the reimagining of the Thorndens as a family embracing diversity and acceptance was in full view for all guests to witness and appreciate. The house and yard had cleaned up nicely. The trampoline was disassembled, and they’d lost the pool to Claire’s side but, thank heavens, kept the Ping-Pong shed. There were strings of white Christmas lights wrapped loosely around shrubs and trees, and locally sourced daffodils, tulips, and hyacinth in mason jars dotted card tables with vintage tablecloths and candles. A sign on a wicker basket suggested that guests leave their cell phones and pick up a bottle of bubble stuff with a small wand to keep th
eir thumbs occupied. An iPod with a nineties playlist stood in beautifully for a live band, and deviled eggs were, of course, omnipresent.

  Rah and Susan looked amazing, though both would have scoffed at the thought that somehow their outfits bore mentioning over the importance of legalized gay marriage in their state. Nevertheless, Rah looked very sharp in a white collared shirt with crisp oatmeal linen pants, and Susan wore a long-sleeved white dress with a slight scoop neck and zero appliqué. They each sported a crown of white roses, daisies, and hydrangea—and held hands all day, teary and beaming. The entire family was in attendance, minus Piper, who said she had a work trip. E.J. arrived late with his new girlfriend and missed cocktail hour, much to everyone’s relief. Les came with his business and life partner, Gerard, whom Biz was thrilled to see. She introduced them to everyone at the whole wedding, saying, “This is my dad and his partner-partner.” And Dick slid into the back row for just the abbreviated outdoor service, then made a hasty departure with his trophy wife and their sullen fourteen-year-old son.

  The fence Rah had put in did a great job of ensuring their privacy, but the white balloons confused more than a few prospective buyers looking for Claire’s open house. So for five hours, friendly young couples—dressed smartly and wanting to make the right impression—wandered into the wrong house and had to be sweetly turned away. By the middle of Susan and Rah’s vows it became something of a running joke. And by late afternoon, a chorus of drunken revelers could be heard shouting jovially, “Next door!” then pointing at the other side of the fence in hilarity. Biz occupied herself by doing everything in her power to not drink in order to obliterate the thought of Tindy as Charlie’s date. To this end she reverted to her inner waitress and cleared all the dishes, swooping in within nanoseconds of unsuspecting guests’ last bite. Charlie kept an eye on his film-student videographers, giving them tips on lighting and composition, while Ned bartended alongside Ruby’s and Gigi’s boyfriends, Miguel and Oliver.

  Gordon’s full-time job was to tend to Nana Miggs, who still cut a modest but legitimate rug. When Charlie rolled the piano out to the patio, she insisted Gordon dance with her. They requested “Make Someone Happy” and together with Susan and Rah were first on the floor. Foster asked Georgia to dance, which shocked more than a few. She made a fuss at first for comedy’s sake, but by the third song he had her laughing. Others joined in and held someone tight: Finn and Muriel; Ned and Cat; Rebekah and her husband; and even E.J. and his new girlfriend. The Greats danced with either their dates or each other, and the rest of the floor filled in with friends of the newlyweds from various chapters of their lives. It was easy to tell their Austin friends from their chemical-engineering and bird-nerd friends. Someone projected a slide show against a white sheet held between two trees. Charlie’s live playing added an old-timey sweetness to the slowly moving, cross-faded images of Susan and Rah falling in fabulous love. When the slide show was over, the tissues were gone and Charlie kept going. He played jazzy lounge versions of “Harvest Moon,” “Brass in Pocket,” and “Valerie,” and everyone danced.