Sid and Teddy

by H. D. Knightley

  “Two weeks. Maybe less. It’s not that big a deal.”

  Mom ran her hands down her face. “It is a big deal, Thanksgiving is a family holiday, not to share with the girl you happened to wake up with this week.”

  “Mom, that was rude! Also Sid and I aren’t family anymore.”

  Mom was acting like I had done something terrible, like killed a pet. Her voice was low and measured, “Alicia and I were like sisters. You better be nice to Sid. She has had enough to deal with.”

  “Yeah, yeah, Sid’s been through a lot. But, you know what Mom, she didn’t want my help. She didn’t want me. She told me to go away. So now you invited her to Thanksgiving. Great. Maybe I should go eat with Samantha’s family.”

  “Oh no, she didn’t tell me that’s what—”

  “Did she also tell you that her boyfriend is a total ass?”

  “No she—”

  Down the hall the front door opened and Mike called in, “Happy Thanksgiving, Sid and I brought potatoes!”

  By the time I made it down the hall to intercede, Samantha was standing on one side of the room and Sid was on the other, both with confused looks on their faces. I stopped being able to think, incapable of running the introduction. Sid’s face attested to her dismay; she had been surprise attacked finding an unexpected girl inside my house.

  Maybe I should have anticipated this moment, enjoyed her tragic expression, but no, it kind of freaked me out. She looked upset. Her cheeks splotched. Her eyes misted. Mike shook hands with Samantha and then hugged my parents. My mom introduced Samantha to Sid, and Samantha gravitated to my side and grasped my hand. I gave Sid a quick hello, she nodded in reply.

  Mom asked Sid to follow her to the kitchen. I was sure she was explaining that she had no idea I was bringing Samantha, that she would have called, warned her, but there wasn’t time. Poor Sid.

  Mike was oblivious. He asked, “So Samantha, you’re a friend of Teddy’s from school?”

  Her answer was, “Yes, we’re dating.” Sid returned and slouched into a chair.

  Mike said, “Wonderful, Sid is dating someone too. It’s great to see you guys starting out in the world.”

  Sid met my eyes and looked away. I was torn between wanting to make everything okay for Sid, I had been doing it for so long, and getting myself out of there. The hell out of there. Fast.

  I jumped up. “Samantha want a tour?”

  She rose, “Yes!” and we left the room.

  As we went up to my room Samantha asked, “Who’s that girl?”

  “Sid. Just an old friend. We barely know each other anymore,” and then we waited for someone to call us to dinner.

  Eighty-One

  Sid

  Teddy just went to his room with that girl.

  Don’t get me wrong, she seemed fine, nice, pretty, polite. I mean, boring, but I guess it’s not up to me to pick Teddy’s girls. She dressed like a surf chick, but also like she never surfed a day in her life. Also fine by me. If he likes that kind of thing.

  I excused myself to sit on the back porch. I stared out at Teddy’s backyard, where I had spent so much time. The swing set had been in the far corner. The picnic table had been covered with brightly colored, patterned oilcloth to protect it from our many messy projects. The wide expanse of lawn had seen so many big games, full-costumed plays, including swords and kings and sometimes Viking battles that ended with Teddy yelling, “To Valhalla!”

  I sent a message to Gavin that said:

  Happy Thanksgiving!

  And then:

  (That’s an American holiday)

  No response, so I sat and stared out over the yard remembering Mom, sitting at the picnic table, smiling, animatedly telling Lori about something crazy, ignoring us kids, while we played our big games, oblivious to them in return, unless we needed them. Mom was always there when I needed her.

  Until she wasn’t.

  I waited for dinner to start.

  About thirty minutes later, Lori appeared, squeezed my shoulder, and told me it was time to come in.

  Eighty-Two

  Sid

  The table settings were beautiful. Lori sat at one end. I sat to her left, Dad to my left. Then Teddy’s dad, Scott, sat on the other end with Samantha on his other side. Which left Teddy directly across from me. It was like a movie: Teddy and his Date. She put her hand on his and met his eyes when he leaned in. (What kind of movie would this be? Rom-Com? Horror?) Whatever—I had a front row seat. I decided to look down at my plate the entire meal.

  There was a buffet table at the other end of the room, to keep the table clear, but by tradition everyone sat first in front of their empty plates, to talk about what we were grateful for. I couldn’t think of one single thing. And I couldn’t imagine anything more horrific than being put on the spot to say, I’m grateful for . . . what? My mom died this year. I trashed my friendship with Teddy. I had forgotten how to laugh. These weren’t the normal fare of a good gratitude circle. These were the things you talked over with a therapist. With a confidentiality agreement. Not in front of some girl named Samantha. While she held hands with Teddy.

  Lori said, “Because this is our first Thanksgiving without our dear Alicia, and because she was the one who would organize our yearly gratitude circle, I would like us to go around the table and say something we admired, that we were grateful for, that we miss about her.”

  Fine, gratitude about my mom. I could come up with something nice to say about Mom.

  “And I’ll begin—” Lori’s voice broke. “Alicia was my dearest friend. I counted on her help, her support, her advice.”

  Lori wiped her nose and seemed about too sad to continue, but then she took a deep breath. “She loved to do things. To create things. Every good idea I had in the last nineteen years, began with her. I go for the phone at least once a day to tell her something. I miss her so much.” She sobbed and then laughed. “I’m a mess, I’m sorry, I wanted to be a more sophisticated hostess. Sid, would you like to say a few words?”

  Eighty-Three

  Teddy

  As soon as Mom began talking I realized I had made a huge mistake. An epic mistake. This was Sid’s first Thanksgiving without her mom and I had brought a date. What the hell had I been thinking? This was like the funeral all over again. I had wanted a do-over, had begged the universe for a do-over, but here I was, sitting beside a stranger, while people I loved mourned.

  Sid’s face was drawn and splotchy. She was collapsed in on herself, but it was her turn to speak. She gulped in air. Her mouth pulled down, eyes glassy from tears. “My mother was the kind of woman who could take ten pipe cleaners, two sharpie pens, glitter, and a glue gun, and create something that would keep me and Teddy happy for hours.”

  She glanced across at me, I gave her a half smile and looked down at my plate.

  “She was the easiest person to talk to, ready to laugh, to sing, to dance. She always put me first, in everything.” Sid sobbed and rolled into Mike’s arm.

  He asked her, “My turn?”

  She nodded, her face hidden in his shirt.

  Mike said, “I have a lot, but I’ll go simple. I was thinking today about how much Alicia loved movies, a really good story. I miss her exuberance, but I’m so grateful that she passed it down to this one.” He squeezed Sid and kissed her on her forehead. “Scott, your turn?”

  I wondered if my dad might pass, but he said, “Alicia brightened every room, plus she was a great cook. When we camped together, her cooking kept my family alive.”

  Mom sighed deeply. “Baked fish, kabobs, grilled veggies, hot chocolate—now I suppose we can never camp again.”

  That was probably true. Mom loved to camp, but she hated to cook while camping. Alicia had been the only way she could do the one without the other.

  Then everyone turned to me.

  I said, “Alicia was like a second mom. When I was a total screwup, which was all the time, she would just talk to me about it. That was it, no judgment, no bringing it up
later. And she always let me dig through her cooler. She packed way better snacks. No offense, Mom.”

  “None taken. I’ll let you in on a secret: she packed her cooler with things she knew you loved. She always had bandaids for you too, as many as you needed after a wild day at the park.”

  I nodded. “That explains a lot.”

  My mother said, “She also always had chocolate to share with me.”

  I said, “It’s hard to believe someone so wonderful could be gone.”

  We all cheered with our glasses, “Here, here!”

  Mom put her hand on mine and gave it a squeeze.

  Sid watched me, chewing on her lips, tears sliding down her face.

  Mom said, “So we’re a mess. My apologies Samantha for the tears, but it’s time to eat.” Everyone got up at once to go to the buffet table and serve their food.

  Dad, standing in line, said, “I wish she was here to add to our feast today, she had a flair with gravy.”

  Samantha took all my focus, asking what the dishes were and checking against her extensive mental list of ‘sensitive’ foods, and when we returned to our seats Sid had excused herself from the room. I placed my plate on the table. “Start, I need to use the bathroom.” I went to find her.

  She was standing in the living room, in the dark, the only light a street lamp streaming through a window. She was holding a framed photo. It was of the two of us, on the beach, when we were about four years old. She looked up when I entered, almost like she expected me. “My mom took this I think.”

  “Yep, and you painted the frame. I think it might be my mom’s most prized possession.”

  Sid nodded, replaced it on the table, and wiped her eyes with a wad of tissue.

  “Sid, I’m so sorry about tonight, about Samantha. I didn’t know you were coming, or I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking. It’s like I can’t think these days . . .”

  “I probably deserved it, after the concert.”

  “No, you don’t deserve this. Not at all.”

  “I should go back, or your mom will come looking for us next, and then my dad . . .”

  “True.” We stood for a second staring at each other, and then she walked by me out of the room.

  Eighty-Four

  Sid

  If all women are eventually, dramatically, and tragically killed by the Ache of the build up tears. If the Ache will kill them—all of them, or rather all of us—from inside that place right behind the eyes. If that is true. And it is. Then I am about to succumb at this point. I have so many tears built up that I can’t cry them out for relief. I can cry and cry but more keep coming.

  And this freaking Thanksgiving dinner is not helping. My tears are built up and about to burst through, and there’s a girl I never met before sitting across the table, holding hands with my Teddy. If this doesn’t make the Ache spontaneously and immediately deadly, I think it might be, at the very least, the moment when the Ache becomes incurable. Shit I’m sad.

  Hanging out with Teddy and his family was a huge mistake.

  Eighty-Five

  Sid

  About halfway through dinner Lori said, “I miss Alicia’s advice.”

  My dad said, “She prided herself on giving really terrible advice.”

  Lori nodded. “But underneath it was really wise, like the time I had the meeting with the CEO of that hip soap company. I was terrified. Teddy was little, so I had to take him with me, had to drive into the city, and had to pitch my idea. There were too many things to worry about. Alicia came over in the morning, hugged me, and solemnly said, ‘Lori, just remember, never talk to strangers.’”

  I chuckled. “Mom said that? That’s funny because she talked to everyone.”

  “Yep, it was bad advice, but it made me laugh. I always felt better when Alicia made me laugh. Also, I think her point was, walk in and be friendly. Make them your friends, and the pitch will be easier. Which is actually great advice.”

  I said, “She once told me it was better to ask forgiveness than permission. I said, ‘Mom, you’re sure that’s advice you want to give your daughter?’” Lori patted my hand, and we smiled at each other.

  Lori asked, “You have one, Mike?”

  “During cold season she would remind me, ‘Don’t lick any door handles!’”

  Teddy’s father laughed. “She also talked you into homeschooling, Lori. I thought it was terrible advice, but it meant Teddy could surf with me whenever I wanted. So best advice ever.”

  Lori asked, “Teddy do you have one?”

  “Once when I was ten and deep in my Harry Potter phase, she told me that, and I quote, ‘One thing will always be true Teddy, girls will always fall for someone in a wizard cloak.’”

  The whole table laughed.

  Teddy added, “It’s not true.” His eyes met mine.

  Scott said, “So tomorrow is our traditional Black Friday surf. Everyone’s going, right? 7:00 am?”

  Teddy said, “I don’t know if I can . . . I was driving Samantha to San Diego tomorrow morning.”

  Scott said, “Oh,” a look passed between him and Lori. He turned to me, “You win the award for best kid if you go, Sid. I don’t play favorites, but also, don’t make me surf alone, not on a holiday.”

  All the attention was on me, and I was not happy about being on the spot. But hell, I wasn’t happy about much anyway, the laughs a second ago notwithstanding. But here’s the thing. I couldn’t blame Scott for putting me on the spot. We had been doing this for a decade. Going to the beach together the Friday after Thanksgiving. This was one of his favorite days, favorite surfs with his son, favorite things of all time. “Um, I don’t know—” I glanced at Teddy wondering what he was thinking, how could he put his girlfriend before the surf with his dad? It didn’t seem like him and also made it crystal-clear how in deep he was with this girl.

  Scott said, “Come on Sid, this is our tradition.” He turned to my dad, “Mike, will you come?”

  “I have to work, and no one wants me sitting in front of my laptop on the beach, so I’m begging away. But you, Sid, you should go.”

  I gave Dad a grim look for using the ‘should’ and he shrugged. “Everyone needs a nudge sometime.”

  I nodded. “I’ll go, best kid and all.”

  Scott turned to Teddy and Samantha again. “What if Samantha went with us? It will be fun. We surf all morning, drink coffee and eat muffins, then go home and nap. Anything to stay away from the shopping madness.”

  Samantha said, “Oh I couldn’t, I promised my family I would be home on Friday to go to the mall.”

  Scott nodded awkwardly.

  Then Teddy half-turned in his chair and spoke directly to her, “I could drive you home tonight, after dinner.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “My family isn’t expecting me until tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, but if I took you home tonight you’d be able to go with them super early. You said they were disappointed you wouldn’t be there. You heard my dad, I can’t miss the surf tradition.”

  Samantha looked in Teddy’s eyes and then around the table. “Okay. You can drive me to San Diego tonight.”

  Another look passed between Lori and Scott.

  After dinner I helped clear the table to the kitchen and noticed a photo of me on the refrigerator. It had been there for years but I had forgotten it existed. I was costumed like Mary Queen of Scots in a neck ruff created from an old tutu, a bodice and blouse from Salvation Army, and skirts I had sewn myself. I had sculpted a crown out of clay and cardboard, painted and glittered. My grin was huge. At the time I thought it was all so perfect, but now it looked so handmade. “You kept this up there? God, I was such a nerd.”

  Lori said, “I see someone with a single-minded devotion to something.”

  “Yeah, a nerd, that’s the definition.”

  Teddy walked in just then. “What?”

  I said, “I was looking at this photo of myself being a total nerd.”

  He took the photo and studied it. “Better t
han a nerd, Queen of the nerds.”

  Lori said, “You have to be kind to your past self, Sid. What you know now and what you knew then are two different things.”

  She took the photo and clipped it on the fridge. “I keep it because I remember watching you work on that costume every day for three weeks. You made drawings, lists, you watched tutorials, you left the park early to work on it. And when it was finished Alicia was so blown away with pride. Me too. Look at your smile, have you ever seen such happiness?”

  Teddy stared at the photo, nodding. Then he said, “Mom, if there’s nothing else, I’m hitting the road, who knows what traffic will be like tonight.”

  She asked, “Where’s Samantha?”

  “She’s already in the car.”

  “Oh, What time you think?”

  “Midnight? I’ll call when I’m turning around. Sid, I think Dad is planning to pick you up in the morning. We’re taking two cars. I’ll see you on the beach.”

  Eighty-Six

  Teddy

  This is what I thought about while I drove Samantha home to San Diego—I was stuck. Powerless. I hadn’t moved from that first day in the waiting room outside of Sid’s mom’s hospital room. While she lay dying, I sat staring at my hands. Consigned to a chair. The only thing I could do that day that came even close to heroism was refusing to leave if it came to that. It didn’t. Sid came out and told me to go home.

  Here I was four months later stuck in that same kind of place, wanting to help, but not able to be helpful at all. Sid was being crushed, right in front of me, smaller and smaller and more broken. What was I doing, walking around her, as she died under this giant weight, wondering, would a pulley system work? Or what about a tool of some kind? Do they have tools for this kind of thing? When what I needed to do was just get all superhero and lift that weight. The bigger part of the problem though was this: I didn’t know if it was up to me help anymore. I had been circling, trying to figure out the best tool, when I got sent from the room.