“No, she’s hot beautiful.”
And my sister started talking about how the way a woman looks is not the most important thing. I agreed, but then my brother started saying how my sister was just a “bitchy dyke.” Then, my mom told my brother to not use such language in front of me, which was strange considering I am probably the only one in the family with a friend who is gay. Maybe not, but one who actually talks about it. I’m not sure. Regardless, my dad asked how my brother and Kelly met.
My brother and Kelly met at a restaurant called Ye Olde College Inn or something like that at Penn State. They supposedly have this famous dessert called “grilled stickies.” Anyway, Kelly was with her sorority sisters, and they started to leave, and she dropped her book right in front of my brother, and she kept walking. My brother said that although Kelly denies this, he’s sure that she dropped the book on purpose. The leaves were in full bloom when he caught up with her in front of the video arcade. That’s how he described it anyway. They spent the rest of the afternoon playing old video games like Donkey Kong and feeling nostalgic, which as a general statement, I found sad and sweet. I asked my brother if Kelly drank cocoa.
“Are you high?”
And again my mom asked my brother not to use such language in front of me, which was strange again because I think I’m the only person in my family who’s ever been high. Maybe also my brother. I’m not sure. Definitely not my sister. Then again, maybe my whole family has been high, and we just don’t tell each other these things.
My sister spent the next ten minutes denouncing the Greek system of sororities and fraternities. She kept telling stories of “hazing” and how kids have died before. She then told this one story about how she heard there was a sorority that made the new girls stand in their underwear while they circled their “fat” in red magic markers. My brother had had enough of my sister at that point.
“Bullshit!”
I still can’t believe that my brother swore in the car, and my dad or mom didn’t say anything. I guess because he’s in college now, it’s all right. My sister didn’t care about the word. She just kept going.
“It’s not bullshit. I heard it.”
“Watch your mouth, young lady,” my dad said from the front seat.
“Oh, yeah? Where did you hear it?” my brother asked.
“I heard it on National Public Radio,” my sister said.
“Oh, Jesus.” My brother has a very full laugh.
“Well, I did.”
My mom and dad looked like they were watching a tennis match through the windshield because they just kept shaking their heads. They didn’t say anything. They didn’t look back. I should point out, though, that my dad slowly started turning the Christmas music on the radio to a deafening volume.
“You are so full of shit. How would you know anything anyway? You haven’t been to college. Kelly didn’t go through anything like that.”
“Oh, yeah… like she’d tell you.”
“Yeah… she would. We don’t keep secrets.”
“Oh, you’re such a sensitive new age guy.”
I wanted them to stop fighting because I was starting to get upset, so I asked another question.
“Do you talk about books and issues?”
“Thank you for asking, Charlie. Yes. As a matter of fact we do. Kelly’s favorite book just happens to be Walden by Henry David Thoreau. And Kelly just happened to say that the transcendental movement is a close parallel to this day and age.”
“Oooo. Big words.” My sister rolls her eyes better than anyone.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Was anyone talking to you? I happen to be telling my younger brother about my girlfr. Kelly says that she hopes a good Democratic candidate will challenge George Bush. Kelly says that her hope is that the E.R.A. might finally pass if that happens. That’s right. The E.R.A. that you always squawk about. Even cheerleaders think about those things. And they can actually have fun in the meantime.”
My sister folded her arms in front of her and started whistling. My brother was too much on a roll to stop, though. I noticed that my dad’s neck was getting very red.
“But there’s another difference between you and her. You see… Kelly believes in women’s rights so much that she would never let a guy hit her. I guess I can’t say that about you.”
I swear to God, we almost died. My dad hit those brakes so hard that my brother almost flew over the seat. When the smell from the tires started to fade, my dad took a deep breath and turned around. First, he turned to my brother. He didn’t say a word. He just stared.
My brother looked at my dad like a deer caught by my cousins. After a long two seconds, my brother turned to my sister. I think he felt bad about it because of how the words came out.
“I’m sorry. Okay? I mean it. Can’mon. Stop crying.”
My sister was crying so hard, it was scary. Then, my dad turned to my sister. Again, he didn’t say a word. He just snapped his fingers to distract her from crying. She looked at him. She was confused at first because he wasn’t giving her a warm look. But then, she looked down and shrugged and turned to my brother.
“I’m sorry I said what I said about Kelly. She sounds nice.”
Then, my dad turned to my mom. And my mom turned to us.
“Your father and I don’t want any more fighting. Especially in the family’s house. Understood?”
My mom and dad make a real team sometimes. It’s amazing to watch. My brother and sister both nodded and looked down. Then, my dad turned to me.
“Charlie?”
“Yes, sir?”
It is important to say “sir” at these moments. And if they ever call you by your first-middle-last name, you better watch out. I’m telling you.
“Charlie, I would like you to drive the rest of the way to my mother’s house.”
Everyone in the car knew that this was probably the worst idea my dad ever had in his whole life. But no one argued. He got out of the car in the middle of the road. He got in the backseat between my brother and sister. I climbed in the front seat, stalled the car twice, and put on my seat belt. I drove the rest of the way. I haven’t sweat that much since I played sports, and it was cold out.
My dad’s family is kind of like my mom’s family. My brother once said it was like the same cousins with different names. The big difference is my grandma. I love my grandma. Everyone loves my grandma. She was waiting for us in the driveway as she always did. She always knew when someone was coming.
“Is Charlie driving now?”
“He turned sixteen yesterday.”
“Oh.”
My grandma is very old, and she doesn’t remember things a lot, but she bakes the most delicious cookies. When I was very little, we had my mom’s mom, who always had candy, and my dad’s mom, who always had cookies. My mom told me that when I was little, I called them “Candy Grandma” and “Cookies Grandma.” I also called pizza crust “pizza bones.” I don’t know why I’m telling you this.
It’s like my very first memory, which I guess is the first time I was aware that I was alive. My mom and my Aunt Helen took me to the zoo. I think I was three. I don’t remember that part. Anyway, we were watching these two cows. A mother cow and its baby calf. And they didn’t have a lot of room to walk around. Anyway, the baby calf was standing right underneath its mother, just kind of walking around, and the mother cow took a “dump” on the baby calf’s head. I thought it was the funniest thing I had ever seen in the whole world, and I laughed about it for three hours. At first, my mom and Aunt Helen kind of laughed, too, because they were happy that I was laughing. Supposedly, I didn’t talk hardly at all when I was a little kid, and whenever I seemed normal, they were happy. But into the third hour, they were trying to make me stop laughing, but it only made me laugh harder. I don’t think it was really three hours, but it seemed like a long time. I still think about it every now and then. It seems like a rather “auspicious” beginning.