Twisted Family Values

by V. C. Chickering

  At 7 P.M., the older adults were wrapping up their meal, and the children—now in their early twenties—were already done. They had pitched in to do the dishes and were happily ensconced in the den watching Close Encounters of the Third Kind, which they were referring to as a “film classic.”

  Georgia said to Biz, “So, how’s the move coming along? I can put in some hours this week.”

  “Thanks, that would be great. Slowly but surely—”

  E.J. and Charlie said in unison, “Don’t call me Shirley.”

  Biz said, “Oh, that reminds me, I found our Farrah and Jaclyn wigs.”

  Charlie said, “Nice. Let’s wear them to Rah’s wedding.”

  Rah said, “Very funny.”

  “Wait, wasn’t there a gay Charlie’s Angel?”

  “Don’t even go there,” cautioned Rah. Then, addressing Biz, she lowered her head and looked over her shoulder at Claire, who was slowly returning from the restroom. “How’s it really going? Do you want to kill her?”

  Biz said in singsong through gritted smile, “Each and every day.”

  E.J. said, “Why do you think I’m not helping,” and took another swig of whisky.

  “It never occurred to any of us you would,” Biz said, and E.J. shot her a look.

  Claire said to her son, “Why, I’d love your help, dear. Thank you for offering.”

  E.J. responded with sarcasm. “I can think of nothing I’d rather do more, Mother. Oh, wait, yes I can—pretty much everything.”

  Rah said, “You’re a regular riot tonight. Working on a new set?”

  “I haven’t gone up in years and you know it. Retirement’s my gift to the world.”

  “Actually, the proper usage is ‘present.’ Grandpa Dun taught us gifts come from God.”

  Foster whispered to Rah, “Ix-nay on the omedy-kay, ease-play.”

  Biz added to the E.J. pile-on. “Dude, what’s with the booze?”

  “And the shitty disposition?” added Rah.

  Claire admonished all the cousins, “Don’t start.”

  “Too late,” said Charlie. Claire’s comment, as usual, was wishful thinking.

  Nana Miggs piped up, “That reminds me, while we’re all together, I have presents for you kids.” She spoke slowly now, and a shade more softly, but not labored. At ninety-six her mind was as clear and sharp as a tack; her knees were another story. Still, she felt doted on by “My Gordon,” as she called him, and her sparkle hadn’t faded. Gordon painted gorgeous landscapes with red barns in the middle distance and occasionally impressionist nudes of Nana Miggs with titles like Marjorie in Repose. Claire insisted the canvases stay confined to their bedroom. Nevertheless, the Greats were occasionally discovered crowded around them, staring. “Great-Grandma Miggs, is that you?” “You bet it’s me, honey-bun. In all my glory! Isn’t My Gordon a talent?” Claire would try to deflect, but Nana Miggs always shot straight from the hip. There was nothing anyone could do at this point about any of it.

  She asked Her Gordon to fetch a Bonwit Teller shoebox covered in the distinctive violet nosegays of a bygone era. Setting the box on the counter before her, she removed the faded lid, and opened the folds of haggard tissue with delight. Then Nana Miggs closed her papery lids and released a slow path of air as if she were exhaling a ribbon of smoke from long ago.

  “Dunny and I both wanted to give each of you something. We made a list, and here we all are. So, before something happens to me…”

  Charlie said, “Is there something you’re not telling us?”

  “Mom,” Cat said, “nothing’s going to happen to you.”

  To which E.J. said, “Famous last words.”

  “Ignore him,” said Claire, glaring at her son with weary disdain.

  “Never,” said Nana Miggs, and smirked, her eyes tired but still twinkling. “I’m going to start with the men—”

  Rah interrupted, speaking to Susan, “Because our family is ensconced in a fifties patriarchal hierarchy as old as basement linoleum.”

  Charlie said, “Easy, Rah.”

  Nana Miggs went on, “Bloodline was important to Dunny…”

  “So Ned, Gordon, Susan, and I will get the dregs. I get it,” Foster said with a grin. “Would you like us to take a walk around the block?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “It’s totally fine, Marjorie, we understand. Please continue,” said Ned.

  Nana Miggs winked at Ned and went on. “Charles, I’d like you to have your grandfather’s pocket watch.”

  Charlie was blown away. A tear sprang immediately to his eye. “Thank you, Nana.” He got up out of his chair and kissed her sweetly on the cheek.

  “Oh, don’t get up,” she said, relishing the kiss. “You can all kiss me at the end. To E.J. I’m bequeathing his wallet.” She handed her grandson a dark brown leather billfold. Its corners were worn from use, and the edges were shiny from years of handling. It curved like the final sliver of a waning moon. It was a precious thing for any man.

  “It smells like his butt,” E.J. said with ersatz wonderment.

  “E.J.!” the women cried in unison.

  “And to think he’s never found a wife,” said Foster.

  “Fuck you. You should talk,” E.J. growled. “I love it, Nana Miggs. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, dear,” she said with her endlessly forgiving smile.

  He got up out of his chair even though he’d been instructed not to and went over to her, swaying a bit. Putting his arm around her narrow back, he deposited a kiss with delicate finesse, though clearly quite drunk. “You’re the best. Stay alive, will ya?”

  “I’ll try,” she said.

  Claire was given his sterling money clip, and Cat, his wristwatch. Ned received cuff links; Georgia, his Irish wool cabbie hat; and Biz was given his walking stick. That got a chuckle from the crowd. “Okay!” she said, enthusiastically making the best of an odd choice, and did a little time-step tap dance, à la Ginger Rogers. Foster was given Dunny’s shiny U-shaped briarwood pipe, which he reflexively rubbed on the side of his nose, working the oils into the wood as he’d seen Grandpa Dun do hundreds of times. And Rah lit up when she was presented with his leather belt, its buckle engraved with the monogram “DBT.” When her fiancée, Susan, was given Grandpa Dun’s favorite hunter-green Yahtzee dice cup, Rah gasped in appreciation, then beamed at her entire family through watery eyes.

  Once everyone had their special item, Cat and Claire returned from the butler’s pantry with a bottle of reserve champagne and a stack of juice glasses. It was fitting they weren’t using champagne flutes. That way of behavior had been laid to rest long ago with Grandpa Dun, and life decidedly was more relaxed now, less prescribed. It had been Dunsfield Thornden who insisted on tradition not as a choice but as a familial mandate. As comforting as it was, it might have also been stifling. Biz and Charlie felt this blind adherence to tradition fostered a subsurface fear of forward thinking, risk-taking, and tiptoeing outside the box, but they kept their opinion to themselves.

  Charlie gave a lovely toast to Grandpa Dun, squeezing Nana Miggs’s hand at the end for punctuation. Then they all sipped the good stuff, remembering the man who seemingly brought them together from disparate places, as if handpicked from thousands of eager applicants. A moment later, E.J. went through the folds of his deceased grandfather’s empty wallet, tilting it toward the light to catch all the crevices. He pulled out a thin piece of leather-stained paper that had been hiding under a flap and unfolded it carefully, trying not to tear it across its well-worn creases. Rah noticed and said, “Um, guys?” to the room. Then to E.J., “What does it say?”

  E.J. looked at Nana Miggs, eyes full of contrition.

  Nana Miggs waved him off. “Oh, I know. It’s okay, dear. Read it. The old bird’s dead. No harm done.”

  “But, Nana…,” was all E.J. could say before the interruptions began.

  “Read it! What does it say?” asked the family in layers of curiosity.

  “Go
on,” said Nana Miggs. She seemed perfectly content to hear what was on that nearly translucent slip of paper and took another sip of champagne—her signature pinkberry lipstick scalloping the edge of her glass.

  E.J. spoke with disbelief. “Dunsfield, Dearest, A part of us will always belong to each other and no one else—and you know which part. Love, E.”

  Claire said, “Who’s E?!” with indignation on behalf of everyone.

  “Edith. Or Evelyn, or Beth Anne. She was an Elizabeth. I lost count. Didn’t matter.”

  Rah said, “I don’t … understand.” Of all of the grandchildren, she seemed to be unraveling the most. Cat was also piecing it together in real time. “Does this mean what we all think it means?”

  “It means I didn’t take it personally, and you shouldn’t either.” Nana Miggs’s eyes calmly and confidently scanned the room, landing on each member of her family. “We had an arrangement. Suited us just fine.”

  Everyone was too stunned to speak, their minds a whir. Only Biz spoke. “What about you, Nana? Did you enjoy your side of the arrangement?”

  “Of course. It’s how we stayed married all those years. You kids are doing it all wrong.”

  Biz chuckled, and E.J. laughed out loud. Georgia looked at Foster, who checked his cell phone. Neither of them found this very funny. The other women were even less amused.

  E.J. giggled. “We assumed you were … um…”

  “Careful, E.J.,” Biz warned.

  “Conservative,” he finished tactfully.

  Nana Miggs grinned and said, “On the outside,” with a wink.

  Cat said, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “You wouldn’t have wanted to know.”

  Claire cut in. “Mother, are you saying—”

  “I’m saying no more. Case closed.”

  The Thornden clan was silent; they had so many questions. Instead, they looked across the kitchen island from face to face—all eyes were wide, all mouths agape. Finally Foster said, “Nana Miggs, have you been a secret Buddhist all this time?”

  Nana Miggs glanced at Gordon and said, “Maybe.”

  Ruby, Gigi, and their boyfriends, Miguel and Oliver, came into the kitchen, pushing through the swinging door, one of the last vestiges of the original kitchen.

  “What’s the ruckus?” said Ruby. “Is Uncle E.J. pissing everyone off again?” She had the dark beauty and chutzpah of Biz at that age with a big, unwieldy heart and surefire sense of humor. But years ago, she courted mischief more than her mother had in high school and could be unreasonably stubborn and combative. Biz worried Ruby was heading down a questionable path with the wrong kids, so she dragged her to evening AA meetings, claiming she couldn’t find a sitter. She knew in her soul it was saving both their lives, which Ruby would one day figure out.

  “Hey, Dad,” Gigi said to Charlie. She was tall like Ruby but fairer, with a mop of strawberry hair the color and thickness of Piper’s. Her hazel eyes were like summer moss and the almond shape of Charlie’s. Her dimple made her and Ruby look like sisters, and they were often mistaken for such. Gigi was an avowed observer and tended to follow Ruby’s lead, but their friendship had an equanimity and rhythm that mirrored Biz and Charlie’s. “Hey, kiddo,” said Charlie to Gigi, and reached out for her hand. She let him take it. She liked her dad. “Are you sleeping at my place or your mom’s tonight?”

  “Mom’s. And Steve’s.” Gigi rolled her eyes, and Charlie grinned patiently. “Mom’s awesome new boyfriend,” Gigi added, dripping with sarcasm. The family nodded and exchanged looks of acceptance and support. A few glanced at E.J. to gauge his response. There was an awkward pause; E.J. squirmed and downed his fourth drink. He was still bitter and embarrassed after being dumped by Piper, though everyone felt it was well deserved. It hadn’t been easy to forgive him for the fiasco back in 2002, and for the affair and the end of the marriage. Especially after all that selfishness amounted to nothing once he cheated on Piper and lost her for good. She moved nearby to Stonemere to have joint custody of the kids, but eschewed most Thornden family gatherings. In all honesty, they were relieved. Piper and Charlie were partners in parenting, but no longer soul mates or friends.

  “So, what were you guys all shouting about?” asked Ruby.

  “None of your beeswax. Go away,” slurred E.J.

  Ruby was part of a new generation who stood up to bullies, with no time for dismissive rhetoric or misogyny. She was also twenty-four now and didn’t stand for being publicly admonished by an ornery alcoholic. Miguel was a new boyfriend, and she wanted to make a good impression. She turned to the guys and said, “This is our Uncle E.J. He once tried to be a stand-up comic, but he sucked, so now he drinks all day. It’s pretty cliché. Hey, Uncle E.J., what can you tell us about Aunt Piper’s new boyfriend, Steve? I hear you two were in the same class in high school.” She meant it as a jab; she was asserting her power. She was tired of everyone excusing his behavior. E.J. prickled at the comment. A former jock, Steve had a firm grasp on Piper and her sweet ass. E.J. was in no mood for Ruby’s defiance. Plus they were out of Maker’s Mark. He taunted his niece, “I don’t know, Ruby. Why don’t you ask your dad.”

  Biz straightened. “Knock it off, you two, seriously.”

  Ruby said, “You know darn well I was born of the Virgin Biz.”

  Claire commanded, “E.J., Ruby, that’s enough.”

  E.J. went after his niece without mercy. “I just realized, Ruby is a perfect name for you. Do you know what ‘rube’ means?”

  Charlie said, “E.J., what is wrong with you?”

  “It means someone too dumb to see what’s right in front of her face.”

  Biz said, “You’re an asshole.” Charlie got off his stool. But Ruby forcefully cut in. “No, no, hold on, everybody, I can handle this myself. Uncle E.J., why are you so mean? Did my mom grab your toys when you were a kid? Is it because Uncle Charlie ended up with your childhood crush? Or are you pissed Aunt Piper left you for someone funnier than you?” Gasps were heard, but Ruby continued, addressing Miguel and Oliver. “There are those who think my Uncle Charlie is also my father. Gigi and I have known this for years and don’t care.” Ruby looked directly at her boyfriend, Miguel. “Do you care if my uncle is also my sperm donor?” The young man shook his head no. Ruby said to Gigi, “Do you care if we’re half sisters?”

  Gigi barely looked up from texting. “Oh my God, that would be so chill.”

  Ruby said, “I know, right?” then looked around the room in full command of the conversation. “Does anyone in this room care who my biological father is? I honestly do not. And if I don’t, I don’t know why you all should. Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that our heads may be nestled too comfortably up our own asses?”

  Biz said, “Ruby, watch your language.”

  “Look, I’m guilty, too! But at least I’m trying to be more self-aware. There are events of dire consequence impacting us beyond the Larkspur bubble! There’re the school shootings and the marathon bombing. Global warming is totally nuts. Syria is using chemical weapons against its own people, and Trayvon—have you guys even heard of Black Lives Matter?” Only Susan, Rah, and Nana Miggs nodded in awareness. “Because exactly none of our small-town bullshit matters.”

  Claire said, “I beg your pardon, young lady.”

  “Nana Miggs knows it’s true,” Ruby said, looking at her great-grandmother, who was possibly the wokest person among them. They exchanged a look of compassion before Ruby continued, “Uncle Charlie, I love you. Like a father, or uncle, whatever, you decide. And if I’m your daughter, that’s totally dope. Mom, I love you, you’ve done a great job keeping me off the pole. Not sure why you weren’t using birth control at the time, but—”

  Biz shook her head. “Oh my God, I was so irresponsible. Please don’t be like me.”

  “No joke, Mom, you were totally insane. And I’m not perfect, but I’m working on it, right, Gigi?”

  Gigi snickered. “Whatevs.”

  Ruby resumed. “Can we all ag
ree that I turned out awesome?” The room nodded. Biz was tearing up. Ruby said, “Uncle E.J., I love you, too, even though you’re always angry. I have a few ideas why, but I wish it bothered you as much as it does the people trying to love you. I may be the only one, so you should be nicer to me and maybe, just maybe, I’ll change your diapers and wipe your sorry ass when you’re a grizzly old bastard—even more than you are now—because no one else I know will. Until then, you’re welcome to join me at AA—’cause you, my friend, are a hot mess. And you can find a new victim to torture from now on, because I truly don’t care.”

  Everyone looked astonished. Claire was bristling. Ruby said to Biz, “We’re taking off, Mom. There’s a band playing in the city.” To Gigi she said, “Are we taking your car?” Gigi muttered, “Yeah.” Every Thornden family member, save Gordon and the boyfriends, reflexively corrected her, saying, “Yes.” Then they all shared the laughter and relief of life’s small triumphs. Biz was in watery tears; Claire and Cat were choked up. “Inside joke,” Ruby said to her beau. “C’mon, let’s roll. We’re off like a prom dress. No offense, Mom.”

  Biz cracked a smile and tugged Ruby’s sleeve. “You still love me?”

  “Obvi,” Ruby said with a peck to her mom’s cheek. Then added, “Except when you blast that old crapass music throughout the apartment.”

  Biz put her hand to her heart. “K.C. and the Sunshine Band will forever rock my world.”