I jumped up and got my coat. "Yep," I said, and we went out into the chilly night air. We were silent as we drove to the drive in, where we both ordered diet cherry Cokes and fried cheese sticks with marinara. Yum, even though I wasn't really hungry after dinner. Apparently Starry was giving up calorie counting for tonight.
"I couldn't help overhearing," Starry said rather apologetically. "I don't know what Mom's thinking, and Dad seems clueless. I've never seen them like that. They're usually on the ball."
"With you maybe," I said without heat. "With me, they seem to think that I'm some diva from another planet."
"So now I've got to ask, what schools did you apply to?" he asked. "It's embarrassing that I didn't ask before, and it kind of shows what a tool I've been." I smiled slightly.
"University of California-San Diego, USC, UCLA, Pomona, Stanford, Santa Clara, that's my option that's less competitive in terms of admissions, but they still have environmental science programs and great study abroad options."
"Where do you want to go?"
"San Diego. The farther away from here the better, and I really like their program. No offense."
"None taken. So climate science is what you want to major in?"
"Yeah, it's a really broad field. I can find a lot of things to specialize in, and depending on how much I like college, go to grad school. But primarily, I just want to wring out everything I can from the entire college experience. Social and cultural as well as academic. I'm a little worried about going overboard on the social side. Because I'm going to be financing this myself, I'll finally be free to be selfish." I brooded briefly. "The first year is likely to be the hardest in terms of financial aid because Mom and Dad will be claiming me on their taxes for this year. But from the next year out it will be better. I've been working with my guidance counselor and she's going to help me navigate the financial aid office. She has contacts at some of the universities."
'That sounds pretty amazing," he said. "I want to apologize for being such a dick. Watching the Tangs, I can see what could have been in terms of a sibling relationship, and we missed out on that because of me. We could have been closer, like when we were kids and the studio interview wouldn't have been just for looks and the camera. I could have insisted that Mom and Dad pay more attention to you, included you more. But I was selfish. I'm sorry I didn't."
I leaned over to test his forehead for fever. "Damn. Wish you'd have gone to China sooner."
He laughed a little. "I've been, actually, couple years ago. It wasn't the country. It was the bomb at your school. I wasn't lying during the interview when I said that it prompted a real reassessment of my life. I didn't know you had Instagram until a skeleton athlete from Sweden came up to me at dinner one night and asked if we were related, and I'm ashamed to admit that I was surprised that you were so funny and knowledgeable, and I should have known better. You and Grandpa were an enormous hit, you're great partners in crime. I was afraid I'd lost this, but I found it in my skate bag." He handed me a small blank book with the Olympic rings on the cover. Inside were a couple pages of Cyrillic writing, followed by pages and pages of names and comments in different languages and alphabets. I looked at my brother in confusion.
"Mikhal came up with the idea on the spot when he heard what the Swede had to say, had the guy sign this book for you that he was making notes in, and a couple of his teammates came up too and signed. So then I just kept it, Mikhal said he didn't need the notes, and I had everybody who came up about you sign. Some people found me just because they wanted to sign and comment. Some coaches and support staff too. One guy who waxed the Norwegian team's skis said your posts kept him entertained while he was waiting to hear back on adjustments he needed to make."
"Wow," I said, looking more closely. There were phone numbers on a few of the notes, making me smile.
"So what were you and Sally talking about when you were on the rink at the family party?" he asked casually. "Because maybe you intended people to think you were showing her something on your phone, but it didn't really look that way."
Curses. Busted, in an unusually observant comment by the brother I thought pretty much incapable of nuance. Maybe I was wrong about that too. I debated briefly. "The terms of my participation in your Olympic coverage was that when you were done with your career, that she would see that you had opportunities for the next stage of your life. Not job offers necessarily, but opportunities to help your career. Doors to be opened. Part of the deal was that she wasn't to say anything to you." I frowned, then shrugged. "I didn't know there so many resources out there at the time, or I might not have bargained. In the interest of being truthful."
He was silent, thinking about this while slowly eating his last cheese stick. "I really don't deserve a sister like you."
I half-smiled. "Well, apparently there is a real risk of serious depression, other mental health problems in former elite athletes. I didn't think you'd take my concerns seriously, so I tried to arrange it so somebody with some authority and resources would be checking in on you."
"I feel like such a shit," he said after a moment.
"I didn't do it to make you feel bad," I said. "You should never have known."
"I can't do anything about the way I've behaved beyond a heartfelt and sincere apology, but I can do better now." He slurped his Coke. "If you want."
I decided instantly to keep the pod brother. "I'd like that." He smiled.
"So what are you going to do about the parents?" he asked as I finished my Coke and he collected our trash neatly.
"Not a damned thing," I said, resting my head on the headrest. "I meant what I said. I've pretty much checked out of the homelife. In five, six months, depending on when I can leave for wherever, I'm out of here and I'm not going back to that crappy condo."
"I'm sorry about that too. You had a nice room back in Michigan." I shrugged.
"Yeah, the condo is the one thing about moving here that I truly hate. My friends back there, we'd been friends since we were little and it was more habit than anything. My friends here are better, we click more, have more in common. We all want the same things, to have fun without getting into trouble, getting into good colleges. The high school isn't necessarily better, but I like the teachers more. And frankly, being a California resident gives me a lot more options for college than I'd have had in Michigan."
"Well, at least it hasn't been a total disaster for you."
"Nope. Actually, moving here has created the problems Mom and Dad are momentarily fussed about." I gave him a crooked smile. "If we'd stayed in Michigan, I would have just gone along and I would have acquiesced to the gap year--or two, the way they were going--community college with the promise of my last two years at a university, though probably still not UM, which is where I'd wanted to go. Moving here has been a lot better for me."
"That's something, at least," he muttered. I agreed.
"This is going to pass," I said. "It might be uncomfortable for you and them, but they'll soon collapse back into benign indifference, which I actually prefer. My friends have to jump through a lot more hoops with their parents. Then when I'm in college, they can pretty much forget about me, and that's fine too, I've pretty much given up on them. But Grandpa's different, and hopefully things will be better with you too. Being born at the end of summer sucks, because otherwise I could have moved to whatever school and maybe gotten an apartment for the summer, work there, but I'm not going to be eighteen until after classes start."
"I don't know why our parents turned out the way they did," he said, puzzled. "Grandma and Grandpa were a lot different with her, we've seen the scrapbooks Grandma made with all the pictures. And granted, my skating put a lot of strain on the family, but that's no excuse for them to forget you even if I'm a selfish bastard. Maybe it was Dad's influence. Grandpa and Grandma Knight aren't really what you'd call nice people."
I shuddered. Truth. "Have you heard from them lately?"
"Yeah, I got a phone call last Friday, they wanted to know why I didn't mention them in my interviews." He snorted. "Maybe if there was more contact with them than a check at my birthday and a Christmas card, I'd remember them better. Maybe not. Last time they visited, they were critical of just about everything, including skating, that they predicted I'd never be really successful in, said that figure skating wasn't for straight boys." I rolled my eyes.
"What did you tell them?" I asked inquisitively.
"That I couldn't control what the interviewers asked or how the conversations were edited," he shrugged. "I didn't want to get into the fuss the truth would have caused, so yeah, I understand what you mean about checking out."
After that, the conversation was less about the scars inflicted by our relatives and more about comparisons, checking out preferences in movies, music, books, activities. Kind of a get to know you. With someone I should have known better. When we got back, the exterior light was on but the door to Mom and Dad's room was closed.
The next morning I made some oatmeal and grabbed an apple on the way out the door before anyone was up. I splurged on a mocha and read the paper at the Starbucks before dropping my comforter and new dress (it needed a better pressing, but I wasn't complaining since it had been made so quickly) at the cleaners and going to the park and getting some time in the fresh air on my board before going to work. After two peaceful and productive shifts, I left after closing with the others. While I was working, Grandpa had left a message inviting me to dinner. I suspected an ulterior motive, but he deserved to know what was going on, particularly if I asked if I could stay with him, which might yet happen.
Grandpa greeted me with a hug when I walked into the house and had me set the table. "I was surprised to get a visit from your brother this morning," he said as he checked a nice little pot roast.
"Oh?" I asked with interest.
"Yes, he had quite a story to tell about your parents last night." He set the pot lid down and speared the meat with a big carving fork, putting it on a cutting board to rest. "Punkin, I remember when your mom was getting ready to go to college. Charlotte took her out shopping a few times, it was fun for both of them. I imagine Jane wants that same experience with you."
With a humongous effort I kept my eyes steady as I looked at him. "Not a mind reader, Grandpa. I might be more sensitive to her feelings if she'd spent any time on mine. She told me last night she was afraid I was being too ambitious with my choices and thinks I'm going to be disappointed." He frowned. "She doesn't know me at all. I'm a lot tougher than she thinks. And more capable. She's never once talked to me about college, what I want to do, where I want to go. Dad gave me their tax return for last year so I could complete the FAFSA, but he didn't help me work on it. I can't figure out if it's apathy or a punishment for rejecting their preference for my education. I don't know if she actually knows what I want to study. And I can't imagine that shopping with her would be very fun." I put down the silverware and napkins on the table, then took the bowl of root vegetables from him and a green salad from the refrigerator as he sliced the roast.
"I was surprised to find Stan on my doorstep and with that report," he said as we sat down. "But he said that he apologized to you for a lot of things and he's hoping to be a better brother. I'm glad to hear that you decided to give him a second chance. You were so close when you were little."
"Before you say anything, it was easier to accept his apologies than it would be from my parents, not that I think sincere apologies are going to be forthcoming," I said. "They're the parents, they could have insisted on better behavior from him, modeled better behavior themselves. The bar is higher." Grandpa smiled at me indulgently.
"You really aren't a mind reader," he teased me. "I'm not disagreeing with you." We served ourselves and started eating. "I was going to say that if it gets to be too much, you can move in here until it's time to go to college." A tightness that I hadn't noticed in my chest eased.
"Thanks, Grandpa," I said quietly.
And that was when Invisible Steve wanted to join the party, hopped up on the table, and put his paw in the vegetables.