Twisted Family Values

by V. C. Chickering

  “Nobody says that anymore, Mom. You’re dating yourself. Bye, all!”

  “Bye!” echoed the room.

  Ruby pushed the swinging door open, and Gigi and the guys followed.

  “Watch the alcohol consumption!” Cat called after them.

  Ruby shouted, “I’m the designated driver! More Ruby awesomeness!”

  “Good work, pal!” They all turned to Biz, who was bursting with unforeseen pride. For as much as she’d fucked up, she’d still managed to raise a funny, take-no-shit young woman with personality to spare. It was hard to fathom, and she was grateful as hell. Charlie reached across the island and gave her hand a squeeze—he, too, had become emotional. It was the first public display of affection he’d made toward Biz in twenty-five years—in front of the family who’d kept them apart, the very people who were evidently caving. “And good work to you, too, Mom,” said Charlie. The room nodded in agreement.

  “Thanks,” said Biz with a fragile squeak. “It was no trouble at all.”

  …

  * * *

  The kitchen had cleared out for the night; only the sisters were left. Cat collected linen napkins off the table and threw them down the laundry chute. Claire turned on the faucet and rolled up the sleeves of her cream-colored silk Talbots blouse. “What the fuck?” she spat with twenty years of unleashed rage.

  “Claire!” Cat admonished. “Mom is right upstairs.” She’d never heard the F-word cross her sister’s lips in her entire life. She found it kind of funny to hear it now.

  “I don’t care! Jesus Christ.” Claire scrubbed a pot as if her life depended on it.

  Cat chuckled, “Wow, our lord and savior, too? Are you practicing to become a Hell’s Angel? Nothing would surprise me at this point.”

  Claire ignored her sister. “Is that all that’s taken you by surprise tonight?”

  “Are you upset by Mom, Dad, Charlie, Ruby, or E.J.?”

  “At all of them! What the fuck has happened to this family?!”

  “Wow, there you go again. I’m not used to you swearing. You’ll have to give me time to adjust.”

  “Well, screw you, too, then. Screw everyone. I’ve had it,” said Claire. She was washing each plate and glass thoroughly by hand before loading them into the dishwasher. Cat subtly removed and dried them, then quietly put them away without Claire noticing. “I just can’t believe that Dad was … and Mom knew … and didn’t care … I’m just. It’s not right.”

  “And Mom apparently enjoyed herself, too.”

  “Cat, please. How did we not know this was going on?”

  “We were kids? Enmeshed in our own worlds? Unless we walked in on one of them, how would we have ever…”

  Claire froze, staring, the sponge poised in midair. A shade shorter but still lithe, not a hair out of place, she looked like a vitamin ad for seniors.

  “What?” said Cat. “What do you remember?”

  “Nothing.” Claire resumed scrubbing.

  “It’s not nothing. Tell me. I can read your mind.”

  Claire turned to Cat with a quizzical look. “Is it possible that when Mr. Powers was working on the plumbing in the master bathroom…”

  Cat said, “Nooooooo,” and froze, too, her mind fluttering a catalogue of images through her brain.

  Claire spoke slowly. “They would go into her bedroom together, we would hear the shower run, then they would come out twenty minutes later.”

  “He always said, ‘Alllllll fixed,’ and Mom would giggle, remember?” Cat cracked up.

  “It’s not funny,” said Claire.

  Cat’s eyes came alive. “I came home early from a dance once and there was Mr. Appleton in the living room. It never occurred to me that Mom probably wasn’t getting a lesson from our piano teacher at nine at night.”

  “And where was Dad?”

  “At the club.”

  They both looked at each other with eyes alight and exclaimed, “At the club!”

  “Jesus Christ,” said Cat. “I thought he was playing cards or watching sports in the downstairs bar.”

  “Well, now we know,” said Claire. “Unbelievable.”

  “He still might have been doing those things, he just might have also been living it up with E. Or one of the many E’s, according to Mom. Holy hell.” Cat couldn’t suppress a mischievous grin.

  “Holy hell is right.” Claire was not smiling. They resumed the kitchen work, but now Claire handed the cleaned dishes directly to Cat to dry. “Wait. Do we even know that the E was a woman?”

  Claire said, “Stop it. I can’t even. Just stop it right there.” They both paused and stared at the steady stream of water running purposefully and without hesitation from the faucet. Cat uttered, “Could be. I supposed anything’s possible.” Claire broke in, “I thought I knew them. It’s so weird. These people are our parents.”

  “We did know them,” said Cat empathetically. She could tell her sister was feeling personally hurt. “We knew as much as we were supposed to know at the time. They weren’t under contract to tell us everything. We were their kids, not their peers.”

  “They didn’t have to tell us, but I think they should have told each other.”

  “I have a feeling they did. I think their agreement worked for them.”

  “I think secrets cause cancer,” said Claire, and began to sponge off the counter.

  Cat paused to push her own secret out of her mind. She spoke carefully. “I think there’s more to it than that. I think people can have privacies, there’s a difference. As long as no one gets hurt.” Cat reflected on what she had just said. Had she caused her Charlie harm? She wondered how many of Biz’s unfortunate challenges had come from her own choices and how things might have been different if Charlie—if everyone—had known his truth all along. Charlie felt immense guilt for his behavior; Biz felt terrible, too. They had all suffered because of the lie. Hell, Cat had battled cancer. Was her secret the cause? She knew how much Charlie loved Biz and that he would still do anything for her. She was right to keep the secret, wasn’t she? Would anyone care in this day and age?

  Claire returned the sponge to its cradle and surveyed the pristine kitchen. It was as if no intimate family gathering had taken place. Untying her apron she said, “Aren’t you disgusted by your son?”

  “By my son? No.” Cat was taken aback. “Are you disgusted by your daughter?”

  Claire lit a cigarette. “It’s been established that Charlie used force with Biz in the past. It’s quite possible that Biz was—”

  “Don’t you dare.” Cat glowered at her sister.

  Claire said, “Fine. Let’s say they were both willing participants. Biz was single at the time, but Charlie was engaged to be married. Maybe if you had led by example and instilled in your son the importance of fidelity when making a commitment, they wouldn’t have ended up together the week of his wedding.”

  Cat couldn’t believe what she was hearing. All goodwill and forgiveness toward her sister vanished. “I think we should stop this conversation right now. We’re throwing a wedding together and will have a much easier time of it if we’re still speaking.” She started for the door.

  “You know I’m right,” Claire said after her.

  Cat spun around. “I know that you’re mean and combative when you’ve been drinking. And your children are fucked up and you refuse to take any accountability for it. I know that people who feel safe and loved don’t become alcoholics like Biz, and that E.J. is always the angriest person in the room. There’s an excellent chance they’ll probably both wind up alone, and you’ll never acknowledge the part you played in their outcome because you were too busy going to garden club meetings. It may be too late for them, but it’s not too late for Ruby. But that means you have to participate in her life and stop giving a shit about how she came into it.”

  Not one to not have the last word, Claire followed Cat to the front door, listing all the ways in which her children were fucked up: Georgia the jailbird, married to an adult
erer; Charlie’s failed marriage and unplanned fatherhood; and Rah too afraid to come out for all those years. At this last comment, Cat stopped with her hand on the knob. The suddenness had the effect of halting the swirling air around them.

  “You’re incredibly sad,” said Cat with genuine regret—deep, despairing, and permanent. “I wish you felt loved and safe.” She added, “We’d have all been much happier if you did. I’m exhausted and am going home to sleep in my own bed. I’ll be back in the morning to help with breakfast. Happy Easter.”

  * * *

  Over the course of the next few days, both Cat and Claire independently imagined how challenging it might be to host a wedding for Rah and Susan while living together and not killing each other. So, for the purposes of the upcoming June wedding, the sisters called an unspoken truce, effective immediately. It was excruciatingly hard, but guilt took a backseat and blame got a much-deserved rain check. For two and a half months, Cat worked hard to let go of trying to enlighten her sister, who was unlikely to change. And Claire found consolation in the fact that most of her friends’ kids hadn’t turned out perfectly, either. Thank God, at least, for everyone’s health—even Les’s, whom she was finally beginning to accept. Enough bothering about what could have been, thought Claire. It’s time to buckle down and throw a gay wedding.

  “Weddings aren’t gay, Aunt Claire, people are,” said Rah. She had to gently remind her family of that point often during the weeks ramping up to their big day. Thankfully she was bolstered by Susan’s patience and strength, and in too good a mood to take it personally.

  Rah came out to her family in 2010, and no one was the least surprised. Forty was late, but, she and Susan reasoned, it was no one’s business but her own. Even when Ellen DeGeneres came out on national TV in ’97 and was featured on the cover of Time, it took Rah another thirteen years to be relaxed enough to tell Grandpa Dun and her family. She worried the news would provoke E.J. and Aunt Claire, and possibly hurt Grandpa Dun in some way. But one night Rah and Susan were helping bundle Nana Miggs into the back of a car after a party. As they leaned in to tuck a blanket over her lap, she said, “You two don’t have to pretend for me. Love is a magical beautiful thing. Let us celebrate with you. We’re your family.” Rah teared up, unable to respond. Susan conveyed warmth speaking for them. “Someday, Nana Miggs. Thank you very much.” That was enough for the time being. After that, Susan looked much more at ease at family gatherings. She always made sure Nana Miggs had a refill at cocktail time and a hand to steady her at the stairs.

  The couple held a commitment ceremony for close friends at Susan’s summer place on Lake Winnipesaukee. It was a small, casual affair held in a rustic A-frame—with lots of happy tears, laughter, and dancing. Though disappointed they hadn’t been invited, their families were congratulatory when told the next morning. Then when same-sex marriage became legal in New Jersey, Rah proposed again and Susan agreed. Thus began the planning of their legally sanctioned, family-approved, New Jersey, Thornden-masterminded gay-not-gay wedding.

  While running down the laundry list of RSVP admin, Rah thought, this is clearly a self-selecting affair. She said, “Nothing like a gay wedding to find out who your real friends are.” Susan corrected, “It’s a wedding, not a gay wedding, remember, dear?” The responses from Larkspur and Firth families dribbled in, which suited Rah and Susan just fine. Fifty was the perfect number of guests as far as they were concerned. Rah only wanted folks who mattered to her and not an overwhelming home court advantage. Except for Claire, who thought there should be more in attendance, and that the reception should be held at the club. However, while reeling from Biz’s drunk-driving accident, and Piper and E.J.’s affair, the family had stopped going as often. Membership outreach had been paltry. Old-timers who still remembered the Thornden family pretended not to notice their absence, and newer members who saw no social advantage to befriending them continued not to care. Regardless, the cousins convinced Cat and Claire that their grand backyard would be perfect. Or at least the half of it they would still own when the wedding rolled around. The house was going on the market, and buyers were sure to circle. So, Ned led the charge to revitalize the landscaping, and Rah solicited estimates on a fence, nice and tall.

  With four weekends until the big day, any family members around were put to work. There were detailed instructions to ready both neglected homes with much-needed TLC. Garden beds had overgrown, the shed needed desperate painting, the hedges needed trimming, the pool needed scrubbing—the list was very long. And then it was discovered Claire’s real estate agent would be holding the open house on their wedding day. No one could believe the timing, but they concurred with shaking heads that neither were they very surprised.

  The last Saturday before the wedding was a gorgeous May evening with no humidity and low expectations. Pizzas were delivered because everyone was exhausted and no one wanted to cook. As various yard projects were wrapping up, before they started on indoor tasks, Ruby asked who was interested in getting some fresh air, a quick walk around the block. Biz and Charlie were the only takers, so they headed off together, just the three odd musketeers—alone for the first time ever.

  “Look at us,” said Ruby, “just a mom, her kid, and her uncle-slash-possibly-father out for an innocent stroll.”

  Biz shot Ruby a look as if to say, No way, not here, not now. She could feel a hot flash starting to swell. Ruby read her mother’s mind and decided to ignore her. “Hey, why don’t you two tell me the story of how I might have been conceived.” Charlie let loose a chortle, then gave Biz a look. “C’mon, you two. Everyone’s been fed. Grandma Claire and Great-Aunt Cat have everyone dusting framed photographs and polishing silverware. Let’s do this. Now’s the time. Tell me everything.”

  Biz looked over at Charlie. “She’s never asked until now.”

  “Fine with me,” he said affably. He’d longed for this conversation forever.

  “Okay, fine,” said Biz, fanning her open collar. “You know the Roundsavilles’ tree house?”

  “No,” said Ruby, her face a blank. The ladder rungs had rotted off by the time Ruby would have been old enough to climb. “Was I conceived in a frickin’ tree house?! Oh. My. God. That’s so lit!” Ruby scanned all the nearby trees and took out her phone to text her friends.

  “Hold on, young lady,” Biz commanded sternly. “If you text one word of this—”

  “I agree with whatever she’s about to threaten you with,” said Charlie.

  “You’ll get no story.”

  “And no inheritance,” added Charlie, joking. It was common knowledge there was very little left.

  Ruby looked at them and put her phone away. “Big deal. You guys spent it all.”

  Biz took her grown daughter’s hand and spoke to her plainly and with respect. “I’m not going to tell you that what we did was right, I’m just going to tell you what happened. Decent people can make poor choices.” Charlie agreed from a few paces behind.

  “Mom. I get it. You’re not a bad person. You did a bad thing. Just tell me the story, God.”

  “I prefer dumb thing, not bad. But okay. We were at Charlie’s engagement party—”

  “You guys had sex at your engagement party?! To Aunt Piper?!”

  Biz stopped short in her tracks. Biz said, “If you’re going to freak out or judge us, we’re not—”

  “Okay, okay. Sorry. Go on.”

  Biz looked to Charlie. “Hey, pal, feel free to jump in anytime.”

  “You’re doing just fine,” he said, smirking.

  “This is why I’ve avoided—”

  Ruby tugged on her mom’s arm. “I know, I’m sorry. Keep going.”

  Biz winced. “Okay, but you can’t tug on my arm that way. I have some bullshit called frozen shoulder.” Biz rubbed and squeezed her arm up and down from her upper arm to her wrist. “It happens to women-of-a-certain-age. And it’s boring, trust me, but hurts like hell.”

  “Oh, sorry,” said Ruby. She meant it.


  “Your Grandma Claire and Great-Aunt Cat were hard at work throwing one of the last parties they would host for a very long time. It was a huge Thornden shindig, loads of people at the house—two hundred at least. Charlie had been traveling with only short visits back home every so often, and we hadn’t had much time together. We’d been best friends growing up, and now he was getting married.”

  Charlie said, “And we’d been, um, experimenting with each other incrementally over the years.”

  “No shit. And sex was your last hurrah.”

  Biz said, “Are you going to let me tell this story or not?”

  Ruby demurred. “Sorry, I’ll stop.”

  “Jeeze.”

  “Jeeze,” Ruby said, mimicking her mom. “Didn’t you guys talk at all? Weren’t there phones back in the eighties and nineties?”

  “Yes, there were phones. But it was different. There wasn’t texting. There was email, but it felt too business-y for a lot of us for a very long time. You have to remember, my generation grew up writing letters. And when you traveled you used pay phones, when you could find one that worked. And if the person didn’t pick up, you left a message on an answering machine. But if you had roommates, it couldn’t be private. It’s hard to explain…”

  Charlie said, “It was tricky to coordinate, so people didn’t talk as much. There were postcards, but…”

  Biz added, “But we had a big falling-out before he left, so—”

  Ruby said, “Over what?”

  Biz looked at Charlie and said, “That will remain private.” Charlie nodded in agreement.

  “Roger,” said Ruby with a little salute.

  “So, I digress. Where was I? I’m so old I can never remember what I was—”

  “The engagement party. And you’re not old, Mom, you’re only forty-eight. Forty-eight’s the new thirty.”

  “Ha. Thanks, kid. Here’s five dollars. So, all the guests had arrived and there were a million cars in the driveway, and I was supposed to get more ice. And your Uncle Foster was blocking everyone in, so I went back to get his keys from him, but I didn’t drive a stick.”