Aftermath part 2

So there I was, on my way to Summer Hill Court to see what the heck my father wants.  I hate to say it, but I’m still at his beck and call.  Even now. 

I got to the mansion at a quarter to five, even though I had to go to work in fifteen minutes.  I knew I was going to run late, but meh. 

Walking on the marble walkway and through the manicured gardens, I was assured that at least the exterior of the house was being kept up.

I was stood in the entrance foyer wondering what the heck my father could possibly want. 

When I walked into the kitchen, I saw my father and my brother making faces, as if something had died. 

I greeted my father’s butler, Jeremey Chapman, and then lambasted him for not keeping the kitchen clean.  “My father pays you good money just to look cute, right, is that it?” I asked him.  “This place is a mess.”

Sure enough, my dad and my brother had been feasting on pies and hamburgers, and Jeremey had been catering to their every whim.  “At least attempt to make sure they get a balanced diet,” I demanded. 

Finally my dad emerged near the fish tank.  “Hey, princess.”

After all this time my dad’s voice still makes me melt.  Doesn’t make everything he’s done go away, or the anger that I still have at him for breaking up our family the way he has, but he is my father, the only one I’m going to get.  I don’t know how much time he has left, but I have to savor every precious moment I get – which is why I postponed going to work to see him. 

I had never seen my father like this.  He was visibly shaking.  You have to know that my father is not an emotional man.  It’s a Plumb quality.  They never raise their voices for anything.  My Aunt Margaret had that, too. 

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“It’s your mother.”

“Wha – What’s wrong?  Where is she?”  I had looked around the house and didn’t see her.  I assumed she was out running errands in town,

“I’m on my way to the hospital.  She’s in pretty bad shape.”

“Wha – what happened?”

“She was downtown at the bookstore signing copies of her biography and she collapsed.”

We didn’t say anything more.  Dad and I drove to the hospital.  Bassy arrived later, after he changed out of his clothes. 

Scenes from a Marriage … and Family

Hey it’s me, Savannah, sitting in the counselor’s office with my parents.  I finally convinced them to see a marriage counselor. 

Here’s what you have to understand about my parents.  They are drastically different people.  That they’ve been together this long and have produced me and my brother is a small miracle in and of itself.  And they didn’t have the benefit of a Toya or a Halima to keep them straight. 

What I’m not really understanding is, why now?  Why did it all have to fall apart like this?  

I love my parents to death.  I just wish they could see eye to eye.

To my right is my mother.  We had a rough relationship, but now, in truth, I feel sorry for her.  She actually had it pretty rough.  My grandmother was domineering, my grandfather disappeared when she was a little girl, and she didn’t even know who half her family was.  She waited years for my father to commit and then when he did, finally, he goes and does this.   Of course, it didn’t help that I wasn’t exactly a typical girl. 

My mother was basically a single parent, even though my father was right there in the house.  My mother and I definitely had our rough moments, times when we couldn’t stand the sight of each other, but she is still my mother, the only one I’m going to get.  And I love her.

To my left is my father.  When I was little I thought he could do no wrong.  We did everything together.  I was a total daddy’s girl.  I think in some ways I still am.

My father was never the ‘typical’ dad.  For starters, he never ever raises his voice above a whisper.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen him angry or upset.  He’s very even tempered.  It’s a Plumb family trait, both Aunt Margaret and my grandfather, I’m told, were the same way.  And I see traces of this even-temperedness in both Noah and Bassy.  I wish I had it but I don’t.  I get really angry, really easily – a lot more like my mom. 

For example, Noah’s reaction when he found out Neil’s GF was pregnant?  A simple posting on his Simbook account, calling himself “Grandpa Noah.”  So typical of him.  But I digress. 

“How did the two of you meet?” the counselor begins, looking in my dad’s direction.

When my dad didn’t answer, my mom spoke up.

“We were both members of the Sunset Valley orchestra.  I had been there awhile and he was the hip, flashy newcomer.  I asked him once, ‘Are you sure you’re a classical musician? Because you don’t look or act like one.’  He told me, and I’ll never forget this, ‘I’m as much of a classical musician as you are.’  He reminded me he was capable of doing pop numbers too.”

“So he played a few bars of my favorite song at the time, Debussy’s Claire de Lune…

“..and then he turned around and told me that he’d once played for the Grim Reaper himself.  I was sold.  I was buying what he was selling.”

“So we had a small commitment ceremony in the community park, for our family and a few of our closest friends, and I moved into his house that he was building on Summer Hill Court.  Then I found out I was pregnant with our daughter, Savannah…”

“When I told Nathan I was pregnant and that I was having a girl, he was ecstatic.  And I remember asking him why he was so happy, and he told me, ‘I’ve got four sons.’

“I fell in love with Nathan because he made me believe the impossible dream.   It was like he had created his own personal wonderland and he wanted me to join him there, if only for a brief moment. 

And for awhile, it worked.  For a while we were blissfully happy.  We were raising our daughter, and then our son Sebastian came after that, and we made it work.  We somehow made it all work.  We lived our lives as members of the orchestra and we were pillars of the community…”

At that point I had to interrupt my mother, because she was engaging in revisionist history.  Lots of revisionist history.  I reminded her that all the parties were her idea, to keep up with her own personal vision of a society dame. 

“I never wanted or needed any of the parties,” I shouted.  “I used to disappear to go to the cemetery just to get away from everything.”

I’m tired of being their band aid.  For once in their lives, why can’t they just tell the truth?

-to be continued -

A Big Day

 

Hey, it’s me, Savannah, looking up from my novel to tell you about a HUGE day in the lives of the Plumbs. 

It began inauspiciously enough, with crying Sierra in the crib in our bedroom. 

The little tyrant disturbing my sleep really pissed me off.  It took me awhile to calm down, so I simply walked away. 

All Andy did was pick her up and she stopped crying.  Hate to say it but he is STILL way better at this parenthood thing than I am.  And yet he wants MORE children.  He has lied.

One of the neighbor kids, Michael Falcon, asked Satis to the prom.  Michael is kind of geeky, actually.  I’d rather her with a geek than a muscle bound guy who’s going to cheat on her. 

Meanwhile, Sety and AJ managed to chase each other around the house before finally taking it outside. 

And Andy, fresh from tending to Sierra, went outside to play hide and seek with Sage. 

It was time for AJ to blow out his candles.  Today he would become a teen. 

My little man all grown up *sniff*  and already he’s asking for a car and a driver’s license.  Sigh. 

Here he is after he got cleaned up.  Goodness he looks like his dad.  The brown hair is from my mom, shockingly enough.

After AJ blew out his candles, Sety and Satis sneaked out to go to their prom, also being held that evening. 

But AJ wasn’t the only person celebrating a birthday.

Yep yours truly.  Joining the ranks of the adults.

And who did I spy at my party?  Oh yes.  Bassy and then a lady in a bright pink vest.  Ugh.  Dad didn’t have to bring HER here.

Dena Hart.  As in, his new girlfriend.  Ugh.  Such a killjoy. 

Yep it’s me, with a few more age lines on my face.  I’m no longer a young adult.

 

I was tossing and turning in my bed when I heard Satis and Sety coming in from their prom.  They’d been named king and queen! 

They came in and ate PB & J sandwiches and went to bed.  By then we were ALL tired. 

Mom's Surprise Announcement

Don't ask why but I decided to pay my mother a visit. And my mother has this hare brained idea to run for the at-large seat on the Sunset Valley city council.

I mean, I understand it's something to do and she's bored now that Bassy and I are out of the house... but still, it's a little surprising, considering we're decidedly apolitical.

Digging further, though, it's not so surprising that mom has political cajones. Her paternal grandfather, Sir Henry Bellingham, was a member of the British parliament. Even further back, another ancestor was a special aide to one of the British kings.

"Dear, sit and look pretty for the cameras," she told me as I sat next to dad. Talk about awkward. I'd rather be in the bottom of an Egyptian fire pit.

I don't know about mom's chances for winning. She's running against a pretty formidable candidate, Christy Gustafsson. Apparently Ms. G is well established in political circles. Mom has name recognition as the former conductor of the Sunset Valley orchestra so she has going for her. Ms. G's politics are pretty strange, though. She once led a protest against marriage in front of City Hall.

Thanksgiving Surprise

Just when I thought my brother couldn’t pull anything else out of his hat, he surprised me (and my kids) with a visit on Thanksgiving.

“Hey sis.”  His voice was unmistakable.  When his eyes met with mine we met near the front door with an embrace that lasted a good ten minutes.

“You drove up here – for what?”

“Hey, you know I couldn’t spend Thanksgiving down there in Bridgeport while you guys were here,” he said.  “It wasn’t right.”

I was surprised by how strong he was.  He very nearly picked ME up.  “Been liftin’ weights, boy?”

“Unfortunately,” he teased.  “My agent said I had to keep in shape, so I try.”

Mom insisted on seasoning the turkey even while it was technically the butler’s job to cook the meal.  Truthfully, she hasn’t been, you know, herself, since Bassy left.  Bassy leaving was, IMO, the last straw for her. 

While dinner was being cooked, AJ thought he’d try out his angling skills.  This is where he IS like his dad.  I can’t begin to count how many fish and frogs I found in his knapsack, lol.  I tell him to put those in an aquarium or something but he insists on carrying them around. 

And, as usual, Satis was playing mommy to Sage.  I couldn’t ask for more with her or Sety, they’re great with AJ and Sage. 

While we were waiting for mom and the butler to finish the turkey, Bassy entertained me with gossip from Bridgeport.  “Did you know Matt Hamming has a new girlfriend?”

“New girlfriend?  Really?  He has a different one every week, right?”

“Seems like it.  But this one is different.  This girl Katie has moved in with him.”

I shook my head.  Bassy was dishing out dirt on his ex-boss like it was no one’s business.

He told me he’d started a small vegetable garden and has been knee deep in scripts.

“I did a reading as Buzz Light-Sim the other day,” he said with a chuckle.  “The suit I was wearing was heavy.  I couldn’t chance driving wearing that costume so I had my limo driver take me to the audition.”

Soon it was time to change into our finery (Mom’s idea, so we humored her) and eat.  And yes, that white haired gentleman at the head of the table is Noah. 

I’m stuffed, and headed to the mall tomorrow to start Christmas shopping for the kids.  Sety wants a scooter, Satis wants clothes and the new Lola Belle CD, AJ wants a bike… shhhhh….

Later,

Savannah

The Morning After, Part 2

My mother summoned me to the mansion the next day.  She didn’t want to see the kids, or Andrew – just me. 

As most of you know from reading this blog, my mother and I have had a difficult relationship.  The fact that we pretty much look alike (except that I’ve inherited the Plumbs’ English-rose complexion) has not helped.  Don’t get me wrong, I actually do love my mother.  She is my mother, after all, I did come out of her.  But as I’ve gotten older (and adopted children of my own) I’ve realized that she is a product of a different time and place, and has behaved accordingly. And for that reason, I’ve begun to cut her a bit of slack.  In truth, I actually feel sympathy for my mother.

I’ve known for awhile that she has been harboring secrets about her heritage – and, in turn, mine and Sebastian’s.  For as much as I am my father’s daughter, I am too also hers.  I’ve known for awhile that these secrets have caused her great pain, and these are things that she didn’t even tell my father – and I’m still not sure she has told him. 

I know that my mother is an intellectually brilliant woman and that I have miles to go before I catch up to her mentally, if I ever do.  My father has said as much, that the main reason he was attracted to her was her mind, and that she reminded him of his mother, also highly intelligent.  I know that my mother has only told me bits and pieces of the truth – that her mother was cruel to her and her father disappeared when she was quite young, leaving her subjected to her mother’s capricious whims.   All I know of my maternal grandparents is that my grandmother was a short-order cook and my grandfather was a jack-of-all-trades sort who traveled, painted, wrote, and gardened.  Oh, and did I mention he dabbled in inventing?

“I summoned you here because I know I am soon to go with the Reaper, and I cannot let the truth go with me.”

“Remember that story that your Aunt Margaret told you about when you were still in my stomach, how I went into the cemetery at night to fish?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s true.”  My mother was frank.  “I’m the cause you do what you do.”

“What do you mean?”

“Savannah, I’m an ambrosial.  And so are you.”

“Ambrosial?  What do you mean?”

“Before he disappeared, my father had been doing research on ambrosials and he left behind specific instructions for becoming one.  My mother sought to hide these instructions from me but I found them anyway.  As soon as I was old enough I followed them to the letter.  Thus, I am an ambrosial, which simply means that I am able to cook a special recipe called ambrosia, that consists of life fruit and death fish.  And you can only go into the cemetery late at night between the hours of 12 am and 5 pm to catch them.  Hence, my late night trips.”

“My mother passed away just before I turned teen, and her death was regarded by the police as suspicious.    Apparently, when they found my mother, she was lying in a pool of water, next to a television and some oddly placed sprinkler heads.  I was asked all kinds of questions.  To this day they still don’t know what happened to her.  At any rate, with both of my biological parents gone, I went to live with a family friend, Edmund Browning, who helped me with my instruction in music and art.”

“I met your father when we were both trying out for the Sunset Valley Orchestra.  I’d just gotten here with my two older daughters, and I was simply looking forward to something to do. I was certain that he was the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, but he wasn’t as confident, and neither was your Aunt Margaret, especially given that I am older than he is.  People thought your father was ‘weird’ and ‘spacey,’ but I was especially intrigued when he’d told me that he’d once entertained the Grim Reaper himself.

“I did two things when I got pregnant.  The first thing was, since your father wanted a daughter so badly, I ate three watermelons in succession, as I’d learned that eating them increased the chances for a girl child.  And then, since I didn’t want to be an old lady training a toddler, I called upon my prior knowledge of herbs and fish to go to the cemetery and cook the recipe.  The recipe has the power to temporarily reverse aging.  I also made enough for your father, as well as your Aunt Margaret.  Without it she would not have lived to see you grow up.”

“So yes, I am the cause you are the way you are.  I am the reason for your interest in the paranormal.  I should not have been surprised when you got this job, but I was.  I didn’t think you’d actually follow through on it, for some reason.  I think on some level I didn’t want you to end up like me or like your grandfather.  I’m the one that slipped that death flower into your knapsack just before you went on that trip to Egypt.

“I got pregnant again for the sole purpose of bringing forth another ambrosial – and I chose your father as the sire.  In my mind’s eye, he was perfect – blond hair, blue eyes, toned physique – he looked to me like a Norse god, yet he claims not to have any Scandinavian heritage.”  She laughed.  “Falling in love with him, actually, was not part of the plan.  But I did.  I fell madly, completely, truly in love with him, and everything about him, even (and especially) his quirks.  That’s why I was as willing as I was to wait for him to commit.  I realized that men like your father don’t come along very often.  Sure, he is eccentric and he’d be the first one to say it, and his eccentricity is a by-product of being prodigiously talented.  But deep down, he is a good man, a decent man, who means well.  And he thinks the world of you.  I saw the same thing in Andrew, and hoped that you would marry him – and lo and behold, you did.  I hope, for your sake and his, that you married him because you are madly, truly, completely in love with him, not because I wanted you to be settled.”

My mother handed me, perhaps, the ultimate wedding gift.  No, not the ambrosial book she’d studied as a girl – which she did give me, by the way – but the truth.

Even if it hurts. 

It is this complicated heritage – my mother’s as well as my father’s – that I pass on to my children.  I can only hope that they absorb these lessons a lot better than I did.