Special thanks to the anonymous jerk who made the rude comment on
Colleen and the Leg Trick
. I hope you like the cameo I gave your remark here!
(Fair warning to everyone else: this story also involves a hairy-legged woman. If that's not your thing, don't say I didn't warn you.)
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Laurie wasn't very happy when she heard her father was marrying Teddy Piggott's mother.
Granted, high school was six years ago now and Teddy probably was no longer the snivelling little nerd she remembered. But he was still Teddy Piggott.
Teddy the Pig -- the other boys had made him cry with that name all through elementary school, and the poor thing had been branded for life by the time they'd gotten to junior high. Laurie, herself a bubbly extrovert who'd been in with the beautiful people in the junior high lunchroom, remembered poor old Teddy sitting alone most of the time. She remembered him having a crush on her best friend, Jeanne (as, to be fair, did most of the boys sooner or later) and she remembered the good laugh they'd all had about it around their lunch table when he'd worked up the nerve to ask her to the eighth grade dance and Jeanne had said no in no uncertain terms.
She remembered high school -- Teddy, poor old introverted Teddy, forcing himself to participate in class even though it was obviously murder for him, Teddy going out for the school paper and French club and math club and the choir and she didn't even know what else, and of course never asking Jeanne or any of her friends out again. Laurie could hardly blame him for that, of course. Teddy making the honor roll again and again, and getting into some big Midwestern university -- she remembered that too.
Laurie was happy for all Teddy's suffering paying off in the end, of course, and she was more than a little bit ashamed in retrospect of how she and her friends had treated him. But he was still Teddy the Pig, and who wanted to be related to him?
She had, admittedly, been pleasantly surprised at the wedding last fall, when she'd seen Teddy for the first time in six years. Gone was the greasy-haired awkward kid in favour of a poised, fairly handsome young man with a nice sharp haircut, who could fill out a tuxedo quite well. If the awkwardness wasn't entirely gone, Laurie had to admit that might have been nothing more than his memory of how she and her friends had treated him.
It hadn't helped that Jeanne had been at the wedding too, or that she hadn't matured much at all since high school. "Can't believe you're a Pig-in-law now, Laurie," she'd teased as they'd both eyed Teddy from a safe distance at the reception.
"Come on, Jeanne, that's mean," Laurie had said. "We're not children anymore, all right?"
"Oh, like you weren't thinking the same!" Jeanne had shot back. "I mean look at him, still tall and gangling and you just know if he hadn't locked that hair down with gel it'd look like he just got out of bed."
"But he did, and it doesn't, Jeanne. Come on."
"Hey, at least you don't have to live with the humiliation of him asking you out!" Jeanne had pressed on mercilessly.
"What humiliation? Jeanne, we humiliated him!"
"Oh, that's your problem, Laurie, you're ashamed." Jeanne had downed the last of her champagne and lost no time in grabbing another glass off the waiter's tray. "You wouldn't be if you'd been the one put in the position of having to tell him no."
"And then having to tell all your friends about it so the whole school would know?"
"God, Laurie, you sound like you were never a kid or something." Jeanne had taken her hand then. "Come on, let's go say hello to your new baby brother."
"Jeanne! No!" Laurie had pulled back but to no avail. "He probably still hates you!"
"Is it my fault if he hates you too?" Jeanne had actually had the nerve to laugh, and she was still tittering when they'd stepped up behind him. "Teddy! Alone as usual, I see?"
"Jeanne!" Laurie had wished she could melt into the floor. But she had remembered to smile at Teddy. "Hi, Teddy," she'd added.
"It's Ted now if you don't mind." His voice had sounded cold, nothing like the endearing sweet shyness Laurie recalled from years before. "And it's none of your business, Jeanne, but my girlfriend couldn't be here because she's got her thesis defense coming up. Mom understands, but I don't know about your dad, Laurie."
"Teddy," Jeanne had said. "Laurie here has this silly idea that you're still mad at us for some stuff that happened back in school. That's silly, isn't it?"
"Mad isn't the right word," Ted had said. "I'm proud that I overcame all the bullshit you and your friends put me through, and I stopped being angry a long time ago. But I haven't forgotten the kind of person you are, Jeanne." With that he'd set his glass down on the buffet table. "Now, if you'll excuse me..."
"Ted, wait!" Laurie had said. But he hadn't waited, and he hadn't let her near him for the rest of that horribly uncomfortable weekend.
Months later as she headed back to her hometown for a mandatory family reunion, Laurie admitted to herself that she could hardly blame him. She also allowed herself to admit she still didn't like the idea of being related to a guy she mostly remembered as an awkward, sadsack loser. But her dad loved his mom, and so she vowed to do the best she could to make nice with him.
As she flagged down the flight attendant for another glass of cheap wine, Laurie wondered just how she was supposed to do that. She had no idea, but there was no choice.
Little doubt their parents had heard of the lingering animosity between the two of them. Dad hadn't actually told Laurie that when he'd issued the ultimatum on the phone. "We're getting back from Bali the second week in March," he'd said. "And then we're having a family retreat. You and Ted are both coming, no ifs, ands or buts, understood?"
"Why, Dad? What's the point?"
"Because we've never been all together, except at the wedding and that was too big and crazy for any bonding. We want to all get to know one another better."
"I already know Ted better than I really want to."
"None of that, Laurie! You know, every time I think you're not quite the snob you used to be, you disappoint me again."
"Sorry! But look, Ted and I..."
"Ted and you are both adults, and we expect you to put your teenage angst behind you. Do I make myself clear?"
He had indeed, Laurie reflected as she sipped her new drink. Poor old Dad, who'd had to be both parents to her from age ten, who'd learned all sorts of things about stuff most men never understood just to make sure she got all the support she needed growing up, who'd screwed her head on straight plenty of times when she was a teenager -- she owed him this, and she knew it.
But she wouldn't like it.
As Laurie stepped off the plane, she found the airport as empty as she'd ever seen it. "Wow."
She didn't realize she'd said that out loud until the woman greeting the passengers laughed. "Yeah, it's been like this all week," she told Laurie. "We might not even be flying at all pretty soon."
"The virus?" Laurie asked. "I didn't think it was that bad."
"If we want to keep it that way..." the woman said.
Laurie had heard all about flattening the curve, of course. But had things really gotten that bad?
In the taxi to her father and stepmother's new home (which she had never seen before), Laurie saw it had gotten that bad. "No mask?" asked the driver, who was wearing one.
"Shame on me," Laurie admitted. "I'll be sure to buy one while I'm in town."
"You'll have plenty of time, then," the man said. "They're saying no more outgoing flights after tomorrow, at least that's what I heard."
"No kidding." Laurie's heart sank; she did not want to get stuck with her new family for long, even if she could patch things up with Ted -- and that was a big if. At least, she reminded herself, Dad and Patricia (Ted's mother had insisted on first names for both step-parents) would be there.
Except, as she was about to learn, that they weren't.
The house was big and beautiful, in a well-coiffed cul-de-sac in a suburb Laurie had known by name only. It was set well back from the curb, up a little hill and with spacious lawns on both sides. "I can think of worse places to get stranded," the cabbie said as he collected her payment, insisting on a credit card and making Laurie tear off the receipt herself.
"So can I, I've got to admit," Laurie said, opening the door. "Thanks."
It was chilly. A few years out West had made Laurie forget how late it stayed cold back home. That at least gave her the resolve to face Ted when there was also a warm hearth and a homemade dinner waiting. Her smile was genuine as she ran one hand through her chestnut mane and rang the doorbell. Surely at least it wouldn't be Teddy who answered.
But he did. "Laurie." He opened the door wide and stepped aside. "Your room is upstairs, last door on the left."
"Th-thanks." Before she could even step inside, Ted was already retreating. "I take it Dad and Patricia aren't back yet?"
