This was not good, I thought.
At the age of eighteen, my mother had been estranged from her well-to-do family when she rebelled against my grandmother’s wishes and ran off with a mailman. She and my father were married by a Santa Teresa judge with my aunt Gin in attendance, the only one of her sisters who dared to side with her. Both my mother and Aunt Gin had been banned from the family, an exile that continued until I was born some fifteen years later. My parents had given up any hope of offspring, but with my arrival tentative contact was made with the remaining sisters, who kept the renewed conversations a secret. When my grandparents left on a cruise to celebrate their anniversary, my parents drove up to Lompoc to visit. I was four at the time and remember nothing of the occasion. A year later, while we were driving north to another furtive reunion, a boulder rolled down the mountain and crashed through the car windshield, killing my father on impact. The car went off the road and my mother was critically injured. She died a short time later while the paramedics were still working to extract us from the wreckage.
After that, I was brought up by Aunt Gin, and to my knowledge, there was no further communication with the family. Aunt Gin had never married, and I was raised in accordance with her peculiar notions of what a girl-child should be. As a consequence, I turned out to be a somewhat odd human being, though not nearly as “bent” as some people might think. Since my aunt’s death some ten years ago, I’d made my peace with my solitary state.
I’d learned about my “long-lost” relatives in the course of an investigation the year before, and so far, I’d managed to keep them at arm’s length. Just because they wanted a relationship didn’t obligate me. I’ll admit I might have been a little crabby on the subject, but I couldn’t help myself. I’m thirty-five years old and my orphanhood suits me. Besides, when you’re “adopted” at my age, how do you know they won’t become disillusioned and reject you again?
I picked up the phone and dialed Tasha’s number before I had time to work myself into a snit. She answered and I identified myself.
“Thanks for calling so promptly. How are you?” she said.
“I’m fine,” I said, desperately trying to figure out what she wanted from me. I’d never met her, but during our previous phone conversation, she’d told me she was an estate attorney, handling wills and probate. Did she need a private detective? Was she hoping to advise me about living trusts?
“Listen, dear. The reason I’m calling is we’re hoping we can talk you into driving up to Lompoc to have Thanksgiving with us. The whole family’s going to be here and we thought it’d be a nice time to get acquainted.”
I felt my heart sink. I had zero interest in the family gathering, but I decided to be polite. I injected my voice with a phony touch of regret. “Oh, gee, thanks, Tasha, but I’m tied up. Some good friends are getting married that day and I’m a bridesmaid.”
“On Thanksgiving? Well, that seems peculiar.”
“It was the only time they could work out,” I said, thinking ha ha tee hee.
“What about Friday or Saturday of that weekend?” she said.
“Ah.” My mind went blank. “Mmm … I think I’m busy, but I could check,” I said. I’m an excellent liar in professional matters. On the personal side I’m as lame as everybody else. I reached for my calendar, knowing it was blank. For a split second I toyed with the possibility of saying “yes,” but a primitive howl of protest welled up from my gut. “Oh, gee. Nope, I’m tied up.”
“Kinsey, I can sense your reluctance, and I have to tell you how sorry we all are. Whatever the quarrel between your mother and Grand had nothing to do with you. We’re hoping to make up for it, if you’ll let us.”
I felt my eyes roll upward. Much as I’d hoped to avoid it, I was going to have to take this on. “Tasha, that’s sweet and I appreciate your saying that, but this is not going to work. I don’t know what else to tell you. I’m very uncomfortable with the idea of coming up there, especially on a holiday.”
“Oh, really? Why is that?”
“I don’t know why. I have no experience with family, so it’s not anything I miss. That’s just the way it is.”
“Don’t you want to meet the other cousins?”
“Uh, Tasha, I hope this doesn’t sound rude, but we’ve done all right without each other so far.”
“How do you know you wouldn’t like us?”
“I probably would,” I said. “That isn’t the issue.”
“Then what is?”
“For one thing, I’m not into groups and I’m not all that crazy about being pushed,” I said.
There was a silence. “Does this have something to do with Aunt Gin?” she asked.
“Aunt Gin? Not at all. What makes you ask?”
“We’ve heard she was eccentric. I guess I’m assuming she turned you against us in some way.”
“How could she do that? She never even mentioned you.”
“Don’t you think that was odd?”
“Of course it’s odd. Look, Aunt Gin was big on theory, but she didn’t seem to favor a lot of human contact. This is not a complaint. She taught me a lot, and many lessons I valued, but I’m not like other people. Frankly, at this point, I prefer my independence.”
“That’s bullshit. I don’t believe you. We’d all like to think we’re independent, but no one lives in isolation. This is family. You can’t repudiate kinship. It’s a fact of life. You’re one of us whether you like it or not.”
“Tasha, let’s just put it out there as long as we’re at it. There aren’t going to be any warm, gooey family scenes. It’s not in the cards. We’re not going to gather around the piano for any old-fashioned sing-alongs.”
“That’s not what we’re like. We don’t do things that way.”
“I’m not talking about you. I’m trying to tell you about me.”
“Don’t you want anything from us?”
“Like what?”
“I gather you’re angry.”
“Ambivalent,” I corrected. “The anger’s down a couple of layers. I haven’t gotten to that yet.”
She was silent for a moment. “All right. I accept that. I understand your reaction, but why take it out on us? If Aunt Gin was inadequate, you should have squared that with her.”
I felt my defenses rise. “She wasn’t ‘inadequate.’ That’s not what I said. She had eccentric notions about child rearing, but she did what she could.”
“I’m sure she loved you. I didn’t mean to imply she was deficient.”
“I’ll tell you one thing. Whatever her failings, she did more than Grand ever did. In fact, she probably passed along the same kind of mothering she got herself.”
“So it’s Grand you’re really mad at.”
“Of course! I told you that from the beginning,” I said. “Look, I don’t feel like a victim. What’s done is done. It came down the way it came down, and I can live with that. It’s folly to think we can go back and make it come out any different.”
“Of course we can’t change the past, but we can change what happens next,” Tasha said. She shifted gears. “Never mind. Forget that. I’m not trying to provoke you.”
“I don’t want to get into a tangle any more than you do,” I said.
“I’m not trying to defend Grand. I know what she did was wrong. She should have made contact. She could have done that, but she didn’t, okay? It’s old business. Past tense. It didn’t involve any of us, so why carry it down another generation? I love her. She’s a dear. She’s also a bad-tempered, penny-pinching old lady, but she’s not a monster.”
“I never said she was a monster.”
“Then why can’t you just let it go and move on? You were treated unfairly. It’s created some problems, but it’s over and done with.”
“Except that I’ve been marked for life and I’ve got two dead marriages to prove it. I’m willing to accept that. What I’m not willing to do is smooth it all over just to make her feel good.”
“Kinsey, I’m uncomfortable with this … grudge you’ve been carrying. It’s not healthy.”
“Oh, come off it. Why don’t you let me worry about the grudge?” I said. “You know what I’ve finally learned? I don’t have to be perfect. I can feel what I feel and be who I am, and if that makes you uncomfortable, then maybe you’re the one with the problem, not me.”
“You’re determined to take offense, aren’t you?”
“Hey, babe, I didn’t call you. You called me” I said. “The point is, it’s too late.”