Back To You (14 page)

At least at Dad’s house, I could keep my bedroom door shut to have some privacy.  My room at their house was so different from my room at home.  Sharon LOVED antiques, and my room was a beautiful display of her love.  The furniture was old, sturdy and stained dark mahogany.  It had ornate designs carved into the wood and the bed, dresser and dressing table all matched.  There was one oval framed drawing of a woman in old fashioned clothing that matched the blue accents in the room.  But my favorite thing?  The picture of my dad when he was just about two years old.    You could see the laughter in Dad’s eyes in that picture.  I didn’t get to see my dad laugh that often, or even step out of his “tough guy, responsible, adult, no fun” character, so many nights I would fall asleep in the high four poster bed looking at my dad laughing and imagining what he was like when he was a kid.

That night, instead of looking at Dad’s picture to fall asleep, I stared out the window at the moon, missing Jack and wondering if he was missing me too.

C
hapter 12

I had no idea how much that summer was going to impact my life so much.  I had no idea that some of the very simplest things would stay with me forever.  The next couple of days were insane.  Trying to make sure everything was packed and ready for the trip to the sequoias and then to Yosemite for ten days seemed impossible.  And to make matters worse, we were supposed to leave on Father’s Day, but no one in the family made time for my Grandpa.  Dad’s brother and sister and their families all lived there in Cali, but that day none of them took the time to spend with Grandpa.  So we decided to have a breakfast for him before we headed out that morning.

My grandfather was an interesting guy.  He had already had a few heart attacks, which is the main reason Dad and Sh
aron moved back out there.  He was fairly tall, had crazy white hair that stuck up every which direction, had false teeth rattled around in his mouth when he ate, and he had massive ears.  With long ear hairs.    He sounded goofy, but he was cool, even with his rattling teeth.  He laughed a lot and teased everyone.  He was a great guy and he obviously loved us kids.  According to Dad, Grandpa was nothing like the man who raised him. 

I barely remember
ed Grandma.  She was ill and bedridden and wheelchair bound by the time I got to meet her.  Right before she died, we had made a trip out there.  I was three years old and my parents were still together.  Grandma had me climb onto her bed so she could “get a good look” at me.  I am thankful to have that memory of her.

Grandma went through a lot of health issues. 
She had been sickly most of her life with several illnesses.  I had tons of respect for her though.  She was told that she had maybe six months to live, and she lived another eleven years after her time was “up”.  I admired the fact that she went to sleep every night not knowing if she was going to wake up the next morning.  Dad said she was pretty harsh as a mother, but she was strong willed to survive all that she had over the years.

The morning we were set to leave, Dad went and picked up Grandpa for breakfast.  We were scrambling around getting ever
ything done while making blueberry pancakes.  Grandpa sat there laughing at us while we scrambled.  Over the years I had spent summers out there, I had seen a change in my grandfather.  He was certainly more affectionate.  I could blame it on age, but I think Sharon and her Southern upbringing had a lot to do with it.  However, that morning was the first time I saw my grandfather hug my dad.  Really hug him.  I was putting something in the car when I saw them across the yard.  Grandpa had tears in his eyes.  He was so grateful that we took the time to spend with him that morning, even though we really didn’t have the time.

Something about that hug really had an impact on me.  I had grown up hearing stories about how hard my grandparents were on their kids.  Not once had I ever seen my parents or grandparents cry.  Witnessing that hug was an image I would
remember forever, knowing that one very simple gesture brought that man to tears.  And that moment, I felt something inside of me change.  The part of me that was the self-absorbed teenage girl shifted just a little as I understood what simple gestures can do to change a life.  It wasn’t the big things like a trip to Paris.  It wasn’t big expensive jewelry or houses or even a fancy car.  Love was all about making breakfast for a lonely old man when we barely had time to breathe.  The simple things.  It was a lesson I would never forget.

The camping trip was amazing.  Awesome.  Breathta
king.  I was even able to overlook the portable potty which was a stool with a hole in it and a plastic bag.  We were in a fairly secluded part of the sequoias with a view of a lake.  It was the middle of June and it got cold at night!  I was used to hot, steamy Louisiana summer nights, but this was the kind of night you bundle up and sleep in sweats and a couple of layers of socks all hunkered down in your sleeping with just your nose sticking out.  But I had never seen so many stars in the sky as I did out there.  Wow.  The moon was so bright, I couldn’t stop thinking of Jack and wishing he were the one sharing the tent with me.

The second day we were there, we went fishing.  Sharon liked to fish, but hated touching the fish, so she used a towel and squealed a lot.  Dad laughed at her.   We each caught a couple of fish before we called it a day.  I watched Dad clean the fish and
decided at that point that I was NOT eating that for dinner.   

I noticed that someone had set up in the campsite near us.  He had no tent, just a paper bag full of stuff and a sleeping bag on the picnic table.  While we were getting dinner ready, I had to go by his campsite to get
water from a pump.  I heard him sobbing.  It broke my heart to see a man this distraught.  So when I made it back to our campsite, I asked Dad and Sharon if they minded if I gave my fish to him.  They didn’t mind at all.  So my dad and I walked over with my fish in hand.  The man’s head was in his hands, and he was still crying softly.

“Excuse me?”  I said gently.

He looked up at me like I had completely surprised him.  “Yes?”

I stammered a little.  “I noticed that you didn’t have much and thought you might like to have some fresh fish for dinner.  We have too many to eat tonight.”

He looked at the fish and then back at me.  His eyebrows rose as he took the fish.  And then he smiled and wiped away his tears.  “Thank you.”

I walked back to the campsite feeling like I had just done something wonderful.  I had no idea why that man was crying.  I didn’t know his name.  But something inside of me told me that that tiny act of kindness changed his life that night.  It was only a couple of fish, but I smelled it cooking at his camp and looked at the sky to say “Thanks” to God for allowing me to give one drop of happiness and hope to a man who seemed like he had lost ev
erything.

Although I didn’t eat any fish that night for dinner, I munched on a few snacks we had on hand (goldfish crackers were much better than trout) and played card games with my family by the firelight.  Two days earlier, my grandfather showed me that love was indeed found in the smallest of things, but meant the world to the recipient.  Even if that person was a complete stranger. 

The night sky smiled down on me as I fell asleep, and I knew Jack would have loved seeing this many stars and the beauty all around.

The rest of the camping trip was wonderful.  We drove to Yosemite and spent our days going on hikes, taking pictures of the most incredible scenery I had ever seen in person and meeting an
imals.  Yes, animals.  That week in Yosemite I was approached by a chipmunk, a duck, a huge fat squirrel that hung around our campsite and a baby deer in a field. 

I admit that my dad was often hard on us
growing up, but I got to see a different side of him during that trip.  He walked and talked and showed me all kinds of things.  It was the first time I felt like I was truly on a family vacation.  Sharon was really laid back and even Bryan and I got along pretty much the entire time.  We laughed and played and even giggled at night when we could hear the bears in the distance.  Of course I still missed Jack, so at night I would lie there listening to Bryan sleep and wonder what it would be like to camp with someone I was in love with.  With the sound of a nearby stream in the background and those thoughts, I slept better than I had ever slept in my life.

It didn’t take long to get back into the groove of things once back at Dad’s house.  They both worked, so it was Bryan and me during the day.  It wasn’t too bad.  I had my daily swim and tanning session in the pool.  Bryan loved to
sneak up and do a cannonball to splash me, but I usually got him back.  Leah and I spent a lot of time together.  I spent nights at her house and of course we went to parties and hung out with her friends.  She still hung out with some of the same people, but there were several new friends too. 

I knew exactly how lucky I was to g
et to spend my summers like that.  I didn’t have to work, was a few minutes from the beach and had a pool in my backyard.  Very rarely was I bored thanks to the friends I had made.

During the day when Dad and Sharon were gone and Bryan would go hang out with friends, I would listen to the ca
ssettes that Randy and Jack had made for me.  I learned all of the Van Halen songs by heart, picking out the ones that were my favorites.  I really did like most of their stuff.  Jack’s tape had a few sappy songs on it, which I loved of course, and a few others of his favorites on there.  He wrote me a couple of letters that summer too.   I felt guilty in some ways because I really missed him, but I was having tons of fun too.  We talked a couple of times on the phone, but Dad was strict with how long I could talk long distance.  It was always so great to hear his voice and made me want to be with him so much.  Obviously Dad and Sharon didn’t want me to be serious about a guy like that, but I think they could see I was happy, so they didn’t bug me too much about it.

I spent a few days with my mom’s side of the
family while I was out there.  Grandma was still the same as she had been for as long as I could remember, but I could tell the last couple of years had taken its toll on her.  See, my cousin Rhonda was young and vibrant, the kind of person I wanted to be like, and she had been diagnosed with a very aggressive type of breast cancer.  She went through every imaginable treatment, fighting it the whole way.  And she was a survivor.  She came to stay with my grandmother when she had to undergo the heavy treatments so Grandma could take care of her.  I imagine that watching your grandchild go through all of that pain and suffering would certainly take its toll.  When I was there, my cousin came down to see me.  I got to see my aunts and uncles too.  It was always great to see them, but I knew that they wished that Mom was there too.  Of course, they drilled me about how Mom was and discussed their concerns with her lifestyle.  I kept my mouth shut mostly, defended her when I could, and changed the subject as fast as possible. 

What always amazed me about my cousin Rhonda was that she was always smiling.  She loved to laugh.  Her hair had grown back in very crazy curly, not frizzy curly like mine.  And watching her tell a story was like watching a candle glow.  Her eyes sparkled as she would talk about her friends and her adve
ntures.  She had a good career and had not yet settled down to start a family.  She just bought a condo when she made it through the rough stuff and was done with her treatments.  I was sixteen years old and I would just watch her, thinking that one day I would like to have a life like hers.  Making good money at a job she loved, independent, happy, and loved by anyone who met her.  And she told us all about a trip she had planned in a few months to Hawaii.  I had always wanted to go to Hawaii.  One day, I promised myself.

The summer went by pretty fast and before I knew it, it was time to pack up and head home.  The night before I left, Leah had a going away party for me and invited all of the friends I had gotten to know over the last three summers I had been there.  Ironically, Dad liked to enforce a curfew that was ridic
ulously early to me.  Would have been to anyone.  At home, my curfew was late and not very strict, but I was always home on time or early.  Maybe it was because I didn’t have to break many rules that I chose to not push the issue. 

At Dad’s house it was different though.  I was not a r
ebel at home.  I was this responsible adult in a teenager’s body at Mom’s.  Chores done, school work done, home on time, did nothing bad like drinking or drugs.  But I got this little sneaky rebel streak when I got to Dad’s house.  I scoffed at the curfew most of the time, because I knew they would be dead asleep when I got home anyway.  The night of this party was like that.  Dad wanted me home like an hour after it started.  I was the guest of honor.  Right, I would be the first to leave my own freaking party.  NOT!!!  I knew when I left that night that I would definitely be home later than they wanted.  Oh well.  What would they do?  Ground me for less than a day?

Being around Leah’s friends really helped my low self esteem.  I was a novelty.  Petite little Southern girl who talked funny and had insanely wild blond hair.  They would laugh at some of the things I didn’t understand about Southern California, which was NOTHING like Southern Louisiana.  They appreciated my intell
igence and my goofy laugh.  One guy was interested in me.  His name was Perry, aka Perry Bear.  He was sweet, kind of cute and a couple of years older than I was.  I had never condoned cheating on a boyfriend or anyone for that matter.  I still wondered exactly where the boundary of the “cheating” was.  Was it being attracted to someone?  Was it flirting harmlessly?  Kissing?  Touching?  Or was cheating simply having sex with someone who wasn’t your boyfriend or girlfriend?  For the first time in my life, I was actually tested in this area.

I hated, HATED, that Mom had cheated with married men.  My moral compass just cringed at the thought.  I couldn’t, wouldn’t do that to someone.  I always thought about the other person that was involved, the one who would get hurt.  My opinion was that if a ma
rried man would cheat on his wife to be with someone else, why on earth would he ever be faithful to his mistress?  Anyone I heard of that cheated on their significant other always dropped several notches down my approval scale.  I guess I was just a prude that way. 

I say this because I had to eat my words to some extent that night.  The party was still going pretty strong, but I knew I should get home.  Being late was one thing, but I wasn’t the type to totally snub my nose at Dad and Sharon
.  Since Leah just lived a few houses down, it was a quick walk home.  But it was late and Perry offered to walk me back so I wasn’t out there alone.  I thought he was nice but I loved Jack.  Maybe five weeks worth of missing him finally had broken me down.