"Thanks for staying with me."
"What else are sisters for?" Amelia asked.
"What am I going to do with all this stuff?" I asked, surveying the boxes stacked up all around.
The boxes from mom's storage locker were all stacked around the living room in my small one bedroom apartment. The funeral was early this afternoon. A few of us had an informal wake over at Marty's on 53ed after. Then Cara said she needed to get on her drive home. She cited "obligations". It was good to see her and her kids. If only for the day.
"Mom was a bit of a pack rat." Amelia went on.
"Yeah." I agreed.
I had managed to clear off the couch and a chair. Amelia and i were sitting comfortably with coffee. Winding down after the events of the day.
Amelia went on. "I have a few days before I have to be back." She said. "We can figure out what all we have and what to do with it all."
Both the funeral and the wake were well attended. Mom had lots of friends. It was good to see the ones I knew and greeted those I did not. I don't like funerals but Cara wanted one at the old church. Wakes are more fun. People telling stories and sharing memories.
Anyway, Amelia and I were more or less settled in for the evening. Decaf with milk for me. Full strength black for her. All I had was powder. I was not a very good host. I could not hold my eyes open.
"It's fine. You take the bed. I'll be more than comfortable out here." I said.
"No you sleep in your bed. The couch will be fine for me." Amelia reaffirmed.
It was after 10 and I was bushed. I stumbled into my bedroom. Stripped and fell into bed. Sound asleep in seconds.
I awoke to the smell of coffee. Coffee and bacon. I took my morning comfort break and pulled on some sweats to find that Amelia had bacon, eggs and a bagel ready with real coffee.
"I don't sleep much these days." She said. "I just ran out and got a few things."
The coffee was delicious. I tucked into the plate of eggs bacon and a bagel she placed in front of me.
My tiny divorced dad apartment has the obligatory tiny island counter dividing the tiny kitchen from the tiny living room. My ex-wife had the big suburban house now with the big suburban life style. Somehow I still had all the payments though. But who's bitter. She did show up for a few minutes to the wake. Giving me that obligatory "I'm so sorry for your loss" hug. Some silver haired Romeo was with her. I nodded and made nice. No one bitter here.
Coming back to the present I looked around and found that Amelia had gone through Mom's stuff. Some boxes flattened. Some repacked. A few picture albums and shoe boxes of photos. Some old papers. Good. I did not want to think about it.
"This photo." I said. Showing her the one that I had found of me at charm school. "Can we talk about this?"
It was the one I had shared when I found it before mom,'s funeral. It was shows six little girls. They were maybe six or seven years old. The were lined up in a row walking down a hall. An adult woman in a stylish skirt and jacket, maybe a teacher, giving some instruction from behind. The girls are all holding books on their head. Each girl is in a nice dress and patent leather shoes with ankle socks and gloves. The photo says "Chris and Amelia 1968" written on the back in mom's handwriting. The girl in the front was the towhead that Cara had siad was me. Amelia was the girl fifth from the front.
"Yep. I remember that day." Amelia reminisced. "Charm school was kind of fun I'm sorry you quit. Here are some other photos I found." She handed me a smaller picture album.
Looking through it I saw more photos of that same towhead girl. About 20 pages of snapshots. Some with her sisters. Some by herself. Most were posed in pretty dresses. Some were in play clothes. Most were taken in the old house or the yards around it. Mom had some great honeysuckle stalks. There was one with the girls posed in front of them. And one of the same shot with each girl by her self. One with mom in it too. She was such a pretty young woman back then. Slim, fit, well turned out in calf length slacks and a sleeveless one button shell.
There was no question. I was the towhead girl in the photos.
The pictures of me as a girl started with a toddler standing next to that "modern" danish coffee table I still had. In this shot she was in a light colored baby dress. The last page had a photo of me at ten in a jacket and tie I kinda remembered that day. Daddy, um dad was home. He was gone most of the time. He was an engineer in the merchant marine. When he was home we had good times for a few weeks. Then he went back to sea.
"I remember back then." Amelia said. "Back when I had two big sisters. Cara and Tina. These photos brought it all back to me. That was so long ago. All three of us used to have tea parties and make mud pies. We would help mom in the kitchen. Mom would take us to the shops and buy us pretty clothes. It was fun. But Daddy came home from sea for Grandpa's funeral and Tina went away. I had an older brother and an older sister after that.
"Cara might have better memories of those days. She was twelve when grandpa died. You were ten and I was eight. I don't remember so much about that time. Before grandpa died daddy came home for a few weeks every few months. Daddy was so happy to see us all back then. He brought us presents and things. But when grandpa died daddy was home for weeks and weeks."
Some butterflies started to gather in my gut. I was ten years old in the last photo in that album. Amelia showed me the other albums too. Mom had kept one for each of her kids. She was going send Cara hers. But she wanted to talk to me about it first first.
"Cara's album has pictures of Tina in it too. So does mine. From before I turned 8. All the albums end at more or less the same time. Nothing added after 1971. Just these three albums are like that. The other ones are all of the family snap shots and portraits and stuff. It looks like mom organized most of our childhood photos.
"There is one kind of funny thing though. There are no photos with Tina and daddy together. It looks like Tina was never around when daddy was home. There are no photos with Tina in any of these other albums either. Just photos with you, Chris."
I sat thinking. Here at forty six years old I was learning that I had spent most of the first ten years dressing and probably being seen as a girl. Except when my dad was home from sea. I was 'Tina' most of the time. For a few weeks per year when I was Chris. I had no recollection of 'Tina' at all.
I had no recollection of any of it. I remember my dad and I remember doing all those family things like going to the beach and fishing and camping and the rest. We had lots of fun with daddy. But I have no memory at all of being 'Tina'. Yet here was concrete proof. Pictures of 'Tina' and my sister's memory of two older sisters.
"I had Two sisters till grandpa died. And daddy, was home for a few months that time. That's the other part of it." Amelia went on. "Remember when daddy stopped coming home?"
"I know that he never came back after that last time he went to sea."
"Yeah." Amelia said. "There are no pictures of daddy in the big albums after that time with grandpa's funeral. Just of everyone else. Remember when Grandma moved in with us after grandpa died?"
"Yeah."
"See?" Amelia turned to a page in one of the albums. It said 1972 in the corner. "We start seeing grandma in all the pictures with us. And no more pictures of daddy or Tina."
I was lost in thought. Maybe shock. I guess it made sense. Mom kept us as three girls when daddy was at sea. I'd be 'Tina'. That all changed when grandma moved in. I remembered some from then. Mom went to work. First at a retail store and then sold houses. Grandma moved into my room and I moved to that room in the basement. That's the bedroom I remember. My room. Chris' room.
By the time grandma passed we were all grown up. Heck Grandma was at my wedding. That was a good day. I was really in love.
"I was 'Tina' almost full time from when I was a baby till I was ten."
Amelia nodded. "That seems right."
"Then it just stopped when grandma came to live with us."
"That seems like what happened." Amelia agreed.
"And mom never talked about it."
"Not that I know of." Amelia asserted. "Not to me at least. And not to you either, apparently."
I had been brought up as a girl, or mostly as a girl, till I was ten. But after that I was a boy. I was the only boy in the house till I got married.
My wife liked that I was not "Some macho jerk". At least at first. But after the twins were born things changed. She accusing me of stuff. I did not understand. I was devoted to her and my girls. My girls were the center of my universe.
After the divorce I rarely saw my girls even though they lived just across town. All I got were calls from my ex's lawyer if child support was late.
So much to think about. What had happened? Why had I just forgotten about 'Tina'?
"Chris?" Amelia asked. "Are you still in there?"
"What?" I said.
"What are you thinking about? You seem lost."
"Um. Just all this." I answered. "I'm confused."
"I want to send Cara some of this stuff." She went on. "I want to send her album to her. But 'Tina' seems to be getting to you. Is it OK with you if I send Cara's album with those pictures of 'Tina' to her?"
"Um." Butterflies in my gut. "You want my permission?"
She nodded.
"Can I think about it?"
"Sure. I'm sure Cara knows about all this. She was older and she is in lots of the pictures."
What was this feeling of butterflies in my gut. What was I afraid of. Amelia knew about 'Tina' and was remembering more about her. She stated babbling on with stories of how close she and 'Tina' were. I presume that Cara knew about 'Tina' too. After all she was twelve. Surely she would have memories of 'Tina' Why had she never mentioned it?
"I'm not feeling so good." I said.
Some things that I never understood about my divorce and my ex's vehemence started to make some sense. She claimed I was cheating with someone named 'Tina'. And that she could not trust me any more. I had no clue till she played tapes of me talking in my sleep about 'Tina'. Even then it made no sense. Now I knew who 'Tina' was. I wonder if I would ever figure this out.
Comments
Memories are constantly changing
Everything we remember is constantly being ever so slightly revised as we add more and more life experiences. This one's a biggie. Good story.
>>> Kay
Blocking Trauma
I suspected almost from the start that this was a sequel to your earlier story, "My Name on the Photo". And it turned out to be. It sounds as if something's blocking traumatic memories.
-- Daphne Xu
Something happened with his
Something happened with his dad and grandparents apparently.
Hugs!
Rosemary