Walking Backwards - Episode 12
After Rick's death Drew and Mark try to help each other out but Drew isn’t sure if it’s working. Drew, Ann, Buster and Sam welcome a new member to their family.
Welcome to the twelfth episode of Walking Backwards, the third collection of not quite true tales of Texas. Previous collections are:
The Cold Days of Summer - If you are new to these tales and the type who likes to know how things started I would recommend starting here.
The Hollow Men - the second collection of not quite true tales of Texas.
New episodes are posted (almost) every Sunday. You can move easily between episodes via links to the previous and next episode.
If you are new to these not quite true tales of Texas but are the type who likes to dive right in you could start with the prologue to Walking Backwards. The prologue provides a summary of the first two collections and descriptions of the major characters you will be reading about in Walking backwards.
In our last episode, episode 11 of Walking Backwards, the funeral of Rick Anders, a second, more private wake for Rick, and Drew returns to West Columbia.
1 + 1 = 3
The next few months passed quickly. I worked as much as I could so I didn't spent much time thinking about all that had happened. Rick was gone and I worked hard to fill that void.
Mark and I talked twice a month. He was still in Odessa, had moved into an apartment, and was working as an accountant for a firm in Midland. We usually talked on Friday nights, after the work week had come to a close. I think we were trying to fill a void in each other, now that Rick was gone. We would talk about the week while we drank beer 500 miles apart. In the past we drank at about the same pace, save on my mad days when I could and would out drink him, but now things were changing. Mark was drinking more and more and I was drinking less and less and we were running out of things to talk about. I'm not sure we were doing either one of us any good.
In anticipation of being a parent, I cut my travel down to near zero and worked form home as much as I could. I ended all my Austin contracts, spent about a day a week in Houston and had several successful short term contracts with local firms Intermedics, BASF and Dow Chemical. Towards the end of March I was taking Ann to work and picking her up in the afternoons. She didn't care for getting behind the wheel the more pregnant she became.
Around the same time I made an important decision, it was time to retire the truck and have a second car that was more family friendly, something that could carry the three humans, and when necessary, the five of us. I didn't sell the truck, wasn't quite ready to do that, but the last weekend in April we bought a Chrysler minivan.
We had it all planned out. Friday, May 26th, 1989 was Ann’s last day of work at Columbia High School. Ann's doctor told her that afternoon she had another two weeks before the new member of the family was ready to enter the world. Ann’s plan was rather straightforward. The first week at home would be spent taking care of the final details around the house to get everything ready. The last week she planned to take it easy, doing what she wanted, almost a mini-vacation as sorts, as best as one could take considering she was eight and a half months pregnant.
We learned that Ann's plan and the doctor's estimates were wrong at 4:00 am Saturday, May 27, 1989. I heard my Dad, in his usually firm, gruff way, but with a hint of tenderness, say “You don't have much time.” I opened my eyes. Sam was looking at me, her front paws on the edge of the bed, her stump of a tail wagging swiftly. Buster, who had been lying between us, was up, yawning and stretching. Ann's eyes were open and looking at me. She said to me “I think we're better go to the hospital. Someone has decided that today will be their birthday.”
I had prepared, I had thought this through but none of that matters when the moment arrives. Part of my mind immediately flashed back to the episode of The Dick Van Dyke Show where Rob Petrie had planned and rehearsed the whole sequence of events from going to bed with his pajamas over his clothes, grabbing his hat from behind his bed, and having Laura’s suitcase near at hand.
I wasn’t that nervous nor that organized but we had everything largely taken care of. Ann had packed her hospital bag the week before. We knew what we needed to do to get out of the house and on the road to the hospital. I rolled out of bed, put on some outside of the house clothes, washed my face to help me wake up, went downstairs, made sure Buster and Sam had plenty of water and food, turned on the back porch light for them and put them in the backyard. Then Ann and I walked into the garage, got in the mini van and left for the hospital.
The drive to the hospital in Lake Jackson took twenty minutes, not much traffic at 4:00 am on a Saturday morning. Ann checked into her room and got settled (as settled as one can be in such a state). Then we waited. The nurse wasn’t worried; she felt things weren’t imminent yet. There was a TV in the room. I turned it on, but there wasn’t much to see so early in the morning. We ended up settling on a movie. I think it was “How Green Was My Valley.”
Around 6:00 am a nurse hooked several different monitors to Ann and suggested this was a good time for me to leave for a couple of hours. I went downstairs, ate breakfast, skimmed through the Brazosport Facts (the local newspaper) then walked around the hospital to kill some time.
Hours passed, we were now into mid-afternoon. Around 4:00 to 4:30 the doctor came by and said things would start happening soon. He was right, around 5:00 pm Ann was moved to the delivery room and things did begin to happen. The doctor and nurse asked me if I wanted to come down to the end of the table and watch the delivery. I was holding Ann's hand and said “No, I’m fine right here.” Ann pushed, and at 5:31 pm we heard a cry and we were the parents of a little girl.
Strange how you remember the exact time of certain events in your life. This was one of those times.
The nurse cleaned our daughter up and started to hand her to Ann but she said “I’ve carried her for nine months, it’s her Dad’s turn now to carry her.” And so, they handed Rae Bettina Remington to me. She was as perfect as a little girl could be.
Rae didn't weigh nothing at all, eight pounds and a few ounces. I could carry her easily in one arm. I walked around the delivery room and talked to Rae. I told her about me, about her, about her mom, about our house in West Columbia, about our dogs Buster and Sam, about her cousins, uncles, aunts and grandparents. The whole time I talked, Rae never took her eyes off of me. She looked very serious with a furrow in her brow as if she was intently listening and understanding every word I said. She had a thick, dark shock of hair.
At one point I was holding Rae in my left arm and pointing things out to her with my right hand. My hand must have come close to her because Rae reached out and grabbed my pointer finger in her tiny little fist. Everything I ever knew about love changed. I knew right then and there that Rae was my daughter, she would always would be my daughter and that I would always love her. I looked into her dark, serious, intent eyes, and I saw everything I loved about Ann in Rae and more.
That evening I went home to Buster and Sam. Ann and Rae would be in the hospital until Monday. I made lots of calls that evening. I averaged about three calls per beer. I called Ann's mother, Ann’s brother and his family who lived in Huntsville, an hour north of Houston, Ann's favorite aunt in Connecticut, some of her relatives in Beaumont, her friends who lived nearby, my Mom, Elizabeth, J.T. and Sue, Mark, Jack, Jason and Barry. By the time I called Barry I was well into my second six pack. He was working the night shift at his station so he had to be satisfied with a possibly incoherent voice message. With the last call made I put a frozen pizza in the oven for the three of us. You may not know this, but most dogs are true connoisseurs of frozen pizza. We split the pizza into roughly equal thirds and were all satisfied.
I dreamed of the field that night. Rick, Tommy and my Dad were waiting for me.
Rick and Tommy congratulated me on my new status of being a dad with hearty slaps on the back. Dad had a small smile and shook my hand. They wanted the details of the new Remington and I told them everything I could think of. Then they asked me how I was doing.
“All right, but I have no idea of what I'm doing or what I'm in for. Ann and I read three different books about parenting, but once it all became real none of what I read made a bit of sense.”
“Son, that's one of the hard things about being a parent. No matter how much advice you get or how many books you read, being a parent is totally different from all of that and is unlike anything you ever done. The best you can do is just that, your best.”
“Mr. Remington, what was it like being Drew's dad?” asked Tommy.
“It wasn't what I expected, not all all. Four years earlier we had lost Edward, our first child. We weren't sure if we could deal with the risk of such a loss again. Then Drew showed up. Clumsy as hell, but tough, didn't matter how hard a fall he took, nothing in him ever broke. Ah, hell, the boy sometimes was a giant bruise, but he never broke a bone that I know of, save for that fracture that night outside of Abilene.”
That caused a pause. Tommy was looking down at the ground. Rick placed his hand on Tommy’s shoulder. My Dad realized what he had said. “Damn. Tommy, that was the night you died. Damn, I didn’t mean to bring that up.”
“That’s all right, Mr. Remington. I don’t regret what happened. Wouldn’t make a difference if I did, would it? Let’s get back to what it’s like being Drew’s father.”
My dad sighed. nodded to Tommy and went on. “From my perspective Drew is damn near unbreakable. Shit, Drew was hard at times. Scared the hell out of me more than once.”
“Vice versa.”
My Dad looked at me for a moment.
“Good point, Drew. We scared each other more than once. Yeah, you were hard, but then there were times it was easy, when I didn't worry about you. Parents are scared to death to see their children fail, they're afraid that failure will stunt a child. Not you, Drew. Just like you could take a hard fall and get back, failing at something never stunted you. Hell, sometimes I think all that failing or not looking good at something did was just piss you off and cause you to focus more the next time and turn it around. Your Mom used to worry about your grades, how you always started out slow in a class. She would fret that you were struggling, but every time, every time, you turned it around and you always managed to show the teacher that you were smarter than you let on or they first thought. Me, I was never worried. I had faith in you. I always looked at it as you were just sensing the situation, observing, figuring out your place in it, deciding what to do and then doing it. You might stumble at first, but you figured out things as you went on and soon enough you were catching up and passing the pack.”
I wasn’t used to compliments from my Dad so I didn’t say anything in response. Moments, maybe years passed in silence. It was always hard to tell because time passed strangely in the field world. I noticed the dark of the night was fading and there was a glow rising in the east. I knew my dreaming was near an end. Before everything faded away I asked my Dad for one last piece of advice. What I got wasn't what I expected.
“When you're going through hell, keep going” is what my Dad said.
“What? What is that supposed to mean?”
“You'll figure it out.”
“Huh?”
The dream was over. I opened my eyes. It was a little after 2:00 am. The house was quiet. Buster was curled up on Ann's pillow. Sam was asleep near the door to our bedroom. I petted Buster for a minute, he grunted in satisfaction. I closed me eyes and fell back asleep until the first rays of morning light drifted into the bedroom.
Sunday at the hospital I was a butler of sorts as almost everyone that Ann knew and was within an hour's drive showed up to see Ann and Rae. I mostly shook hands, opened doors and stayed out of the way.
Monday morning we checked out of the hospital and brought Rae home. Ann's mother spent the first week with us. The second week Ann's aunt from Connecticut stayed with us. My mother came down in mid June and stayed for two weeks and after that it was just Ann, Rae, Buster, Sam and me. The dogs adapted quickly to the change. They spent a little more time outdoors and I didn't have as much time to spend with them as I did before, but they were understanding and quickly accepted Rae into the family. I often caught Sam sound asleep underneath Rae's crib, protecting her from anything and anyone who might dare to harm her. Buster became very protective of Ann, making sure that at some point in every day Ann rested on the couch with him.
Within a few weeks of being a father I wondered what I did with all the spare time I no longer had. Very quickly I realized that being a father was going to be the hardest job I would ever have, but I also knew it would be the most rewarding job I could ever have.
I didn't know anything about being a father. Ann and I read more than one book about parenting, but nothing prepared us for the overwhelming sense of not doing everything we were supposed to do, or not doing one thing in the right way. It was exhausting for both of us but we made do. We made mistakes, I'm sure, but our intent was always correct. That summer our focus was on Rae. In the fall Ann took a six month leave to stay home with Rae and I kicked up my workload both in southern Brazoria county and in Houston.
Since Rae's birth Ann and I had been going to the Catholic mission church in West Columbia three to four times a month, making most of the Sunday morning masses. Part of getting married in the Catholic Church was that we had both made the commitment to raise our children as Catholics. I wasn't so sure about what I was hearing most Sundays but I was listening and I did see some good. To me, the mass was a form of sanctuary, a place of peace away from the noise of the world.
We were adapting, finding a pattern for this new life of a family. In general, things were going well. I didn't spend much time thinking about the past, about Rick. Other than working contracts and spending time with my new family I was out of touch with nearly everything and everyone else. I hadn't talked to anyone from Odessa other than my mother and Mark since I had been there in January. I hadn't talked to Jack since March when I wrapped up my final Austin contract. I hadn't seen Jason since one day in early April when we met for lunch. I was completely out of touch with Barry who had moved up to be the number two sportscaster at the station he worked at in Corpus. My only contact with Uncle Bill, the Anders and Robert was at the monthly board of directors phone call for VP Charities. I was out of touch with my old world.
Next week in episode 13 of Walking Backwards a few months have passed when the voices come back in full force and fury, and Drew hears rumors of a rustler’s moon.
this was good...I have never had children and you helped me see the impact, the incredible change and wonderment...thank you
Rae sounds pretty cool! She’s lucky to have such a wonderful dad! ♥️