Little Packages Ch. 13

Still, they were good kids. I moved towards the bedroom where I prayed Kit was almost ready. That's when a little light flashed in the corner of my glasses. I was unsurprised. If I just had to deal with Babs and Steph, it made sense that Cassie was next. I subvocalized 'answer' and she appeared as a hologram a couple of meters in front of me. Cassie had changed her avatar's appearance again. She looked more like an anime character than a 12-year-old girl. She also might be pushing her luck with the size of the character's breasts.

The conversations you have with your daughters these days.

"What's up, Cassie?"

"How late is mom running?" she asked.

"The usual amount," I said. Cassie's avatar rolled her eyes.

"Is it ok if I just meet you there? Erin and I are still putting the final touches on what I should wear and Aunt Michelle is going there to take pictures anyway," she said.

Mocking her mother for running late while she was running late was an irony a 12-year-old girl couldn't process, and it would be a waste of time trying to explain.

"Sure, and Cassie? A little flash is ok, but let's remember whose day it is, all right?" I said.

She looked a little chastened but agreed and signed off.

Asking her not to be a little flashy would do more harm than good. She had spent too many years being scared over who she was. None of us wanted that. I wanted her to figure that out, no matter what. But her mom was dreading what her adolescence. For her 12th birthday, she pleaded with us to take her to a salon, have her hair properly dyed blonde, and get a total makeover. When Cassie walked out hours later, she turned heads. I'd managed to avoid being the cliched overprotective father so far, but felt a massive wave of "I'll kill anyone who hurts her" when I saw her looking like that.

If Babs was the brains and Steph the jock, then Cassie was all about looks. Despite our efforts she cared more about her appearance and less about her grades. She was also obsessed with popularity. I knew some of this stemmed from her insecurity about being transgender. The kids at the school were cool about it, and she was popular.

But between Michelle's photography and Kitten's fashion sense, she knew how to look good. She'd hadn't expressed an interest in either boys or girls yet. However, she was tall for her age, willowy and blonde, so the potential for drama was like a ticking time bomb.

I finally reached the bedroom, uttered a silent prayer to whatever gods were in charge of punctuality and opened the door. Kitten was sitting by her vanity, putting on make-up. She was wearing a lacy white bra and panties. On the bed, a green dress lay waiting to be put on.

So, better than expected, but not better than I'd hoped. Typical.

"You're giving our eldest daughter a nervous breakdown and the other two are openly mocking you," I said, coming over and kissing the top of her head.

"Oh please, we have lots of time. A few touch-ups, fluff the hair a bit, toss on the dress, and I'm ready to go," she said.

I looked at the two of us in the mirror. When we first met I was nervous about the obvious age gap. I was a man pushing 50 dating a woman not even 20. There were always sideways glances or open gawking. But even though we'd been together over twenty years, the age difference appeared to be even greater.

I looked pretty good for an almost 70-year-old man, or so I'd been told. I'd managed to keep the weight off over the years and while I wouldn't be winning any athletic competitions, I looked okay. I still had all my hair and I was pleased that the wrinkles mainly were created by laughter and not stress. But when I said I was pushing 70, nobody disagreed with me. It tracked.

On the other hand, Kitten got carded last Christmas when we went to a bar in Ottawa. We were celebrating Meg announcing her retirement from the House of Commons. When it happened, Kitten cackled and Meg cursed so much that it caused a minor social media scandal that a sitting cabinet minister used that kind of language in public. I had suspicions about the nature of that carding, but was smart enough to keep it to myself.

She couldn't pass for 19 anymore, but she could easily pass for someone in their early 30s. She had gotten more beautiful with age. The cuteness of her youth had shifted effortlessly into a woman confident in her appearance. Three children had given her some curves, which she loved after being tiny for many years. She was never vain about it, but she knew what worked and how to take care of herself.

I was sure she also picked up a trick or two from all the movie sets she worked on. You don't dress that many actresses without learning a few things. She was also the first to point out that appearance counts for a lot when you work in the movie industry, even if you're designing costumes.

The gap some days looked close to 40 years rather than almost 30. Most of the parents at the school knew who we were, but we would turn heads today. But we didn't care. We still loved each other as much now as we did in those first few months.

"I'm just saying, of the three of them she's going to be the one determining what retirement home we're going to end up in. Let's not piss her off on her big day," I said.

Kitten spun around in her chair, opened her legs and gave me a mischievous look I knew all too well.

"C'mon, Daddy. I bet we have time for a quickie before Babs completely loses her mind," she said.

When it became apparent that we would have a few kids, we had to decide whether to get another, larger house or renovate the current one. We both loved this house, so moving was not an option. So we built a second story onto the house. It allowed for more bedrooms, a family room and more bathrooms. You need a lot of bathrooms when you have so many girls.

Sometimes it was a nuisance, going up and down those stairs. And it certainly meant a high level of trust in our kids.

But it also meant we had some privacy with a few adjustments in the bedroom. This room, and a few special occasions outside the house and far away from the kids, were the only times Kitten still called me Daddy.

Oh, and 41 years old or not, she could still be a bloody brat.

"Tonight, Kitten," I said, closing her legs. She pouted, but didn't kick up much of a racket. I think she would have been surprised if I had taken her up on the offer. We were never shy about showing affection with each other, which grossed the girls out all the time when they were young. Once they got older and saw the divorce rate among their friends, well, they were still pretty disgusted, but a little more appreciative to have parents who loved each other.

But having sex before Babs' grad and making her late was a level of mean I wasn't engaging in.

I sat on the bed and watched Kitten finish her make-up and put on a necklace the girls gave her for Mother's Day. Then she went over, put on her dress, asked me to zip up the back and did a little pose in front of the mirror. All told, it took 10 minutes. I stood behind her and kissed her on the head.

"You're as beautiful as the day I met you," I said.

She beamed.

"Think kitten ears would be too much?"

"Yes."

She sighed and then nodded her head. It wasn't her day. She could look beautiful, but the ears would be distracting.

That's when there was a sudden banging on the door.

"Mooooom, if you're not ready in five minutes I'm going down to the highway, showing off some leg and hitchhiking! It'll be your fault if I'm murdered before my grad," she yelled.

Kitten rolled her eyes and I had to put my hands over my mouth to suppress the laughter.

"I swear, I'm tempted to let her go down and try. We could pick her up on the way," Kitten said.

"You'll feel bad if she's murdered before we get to her," I said, walking towards the bedroom door. I swung it open and Kitten posed, fully dressed and ready, in front of her daughter.

"Well, let's get going. We don't want to be late for your grad," Kitten said. I momentarily thought Babs might explode, but instead stomped down the hall. Kitten walked out of the room and I followed behind.

****

Growing up, our kids sometimes struggled with the lack of extended family. Kitten never spoke to her mom again. If she's still alive, Kitten has never said and everyone in the house learned not to ask. Dad met his grandchildren, but passed away when Cassie was three.

That's why it was unsurprising they all latched onto Meg, Gillian, Soo and Michelle so hard. Meg was Babs' godmother, Gillian and Soo did the same with Steph, and Michelle was Cassie's. But they were never godmothers; they were always aunties.

It worked out well. Babs admired Meg tremendously. Her goal was to become a lawyer and work on social justice issues before eventually becoming prime minister.

She's 18 and more intelligent than I am. Like I'm going to say no to that plan.

Gillian and Soo are far from athletic. Gillian is a senior exec with a video game company and Soo has become the perfect level of Canadian famous; she's starred in a few movies, made music and, with Kit's help, has a small fashion line. But they are successful, fearless, passionate women. And gay. Steph came out to them before us, but given that she never had a poster of a guy on her bedroom walls in her life, it wasn't exactly a shock when she came out to us when she turned 12.

As for Cassie, Michelle took us aside and told us what we should have seen for ourselves. At five years old our third child was deeply unhappy because while we treated her like a boy; she considered herself a girl. When she visited Michelle and Erin she changed into dresses and was much happier. Michelle showed us the photos and it was night and day.

That led to a lot of long talks, tears and some heartbreak. Babs and Steph struggled a bit at first that's their little brother was now their little sister. But they accepted who she was and we began the process. We were lucky that people were more accepting of transgender kids now than a few decades ago. Plus the transition was easier. She couldn't do any significant surgical changes until she turned 18, which frustrated her. But with the proper medication, we could at least make the years between now and then more manageable for her.

As for her name, she asked what we would have called her if we knew she was a girl at birth.

"We would have called you Cassandra," Kitten said. She thought about it, decided she liked it but shortened it to Cassie. And that was that.

The four of us rolled up to the high school with almost 30 minutes to spare. It was a private school, which I balked at for ages until I was worn down by pleading. I also couldn't deny the kids had all thrived there, especially Cassie. She was already there along with the assembled horde of aunties. Babs and Steph bolted out of the car and ran over to hug them. We all hadn't been together since Christmas, so it was a big deal.

Usually there'd be no way to get enough tickets for all of us to attend the grad ceremony. I tried without success. But when a federal cabinet minister calls and says she'd like a few extra tickets to see her goddaughter graduate, the tickets flowed quickly.

"How are you feeling?" Meg asked. She'd escaped the girls and came over to where I was. I was sitting in the shade on the school's front steps. We'd made steps toward cooling things and addressing climate change. But it was still damn hot for this early in June.

"Pretty zen, actually," I said. "Then again, I still have Babs here. She's going to Queen's in the fall, so it's not like she's going to school at the other end of the country."

"Does she know about the car yet?" Meg asked. I shook my head.

"No, Kit's been torturing her for weeks about driving her back and forth to university in the fall. It'll be a nice surprise for her not to have to face that reality," I said.

Meg shook her head. Everyone was moving inside so we stood up to join them and find our seats.

"I love her, but man, Kit has a ruthless streak when it comes to teasing Babs. Most parents would murder to have a kid that smart and kind," she said.

"I know. But I look at it this way; Kitten never had any kind of normal relationship with her mom. She's often making mom decisions by not doing the things her mom did to her. It can make for some weird choices. We each screw up our kids in our special way. Or you would, if you had any," I said. Meg barely acknowledged the jab.

"I have your kids and I can return them when they annoy me. Best of both worlds," she said. Meg could play the cynical card all she wanted; she would do terrible, terrible things to anyone who tried to mess with her girls.

We eventually made our way into the auditorium. The school was large enough to have its own theater space, so at least the chairs weren't brutally uncomfortable plastic things. The ceremony was in the afternoon. Afterwards, the grads would get changed into their fancy clothes, go off for supper, and then have their parties.

Babs said she was going stag with a group of her friends, which disappointed her mom, who had a whole presentation of baby photos for the guy to see when he came over to pick her up. A reliable source told me that there was a guy, but it was being kept low-key for this very reason.

I'm not saying being a gossip at 12-years-old was a good thing, but she did provide valuable intel on her sisters as long as I was discreet.

Kitten sat to my right, Meg to my left. There were the usual awards and some dry speeches from the principal and teachers. Then the grads were called across the stage. I was not crying when Babs got her diploma and waved at us. It just happened to be very humid in the building.

Finally, it was time for Babs to deliver her speech. She'd come to me when she started drafting, looking for advice. I gave her some tips, but she's already a solid writer. I'd also heard versions of the speech for weeks as she rehearsed upstairs. Based on what I heard, she also reached out to her Aunt Meg. A lot of it was going out, being unafraid, and showing compassion to change the world--no pressure on a bunch of over-achieving 18-year-olds.

She looked so small on the stage, but spoke with confidence and humor. If her Aunt Meg didn't talk to her about how to give a speech then Babs had spent hours watching videos on how to do it. But then she said something I hadn't heard before. I glanced at Meg, who also looked a little confused.

"I've talked a lot about change and compassion today, but please indulge me about some of the origins of this. When I was a kid, my sisters and I often complained when something we liked changed for what we viewed as no good reason. My dad would say, 'Change is good, donkey.' I remember being annoyed, wondering why he was calling his daughters donkeys, but it turns out it's a line from some old cartoon he liked as a kid," she said, getting laughter from the audience.

"Wow, I didn't know Babs was that good a shot," Meg whispered as she leaned over towards me.

"What are you talking about?" I responded.

"She just murdered you from alllll the way over there," she said.

"Oh, shut up. I blame you for that," I said. Meg just cackled.

"Will you two shut up or I'll be the one doing the murdering," Kitten hissed at us. We shut up.

"As many of you know, my little sister is going through some significant changes. I know she struggles sometimes, but she's mostly happy and pretty awesome, as far as annoying little sisters go," Babs said, again getting some laughs. I couldn't help but admire what she was putting together, even if I didn't know where she was going with this yet.

"I was 11 when she told us what was going on. It was hard for everyone at first. There was a lot of tension and drama in the house. I remember stomping around and sarcastically saying to dad, "Is change still good?

"He got very serious, took me into his den and sat me down. 'Of course it can be good. But I never said it would be easy or that you wouldn't have to work hard to make it that way. Your sister is prepared to do that. How about you?'"

I remembered that day clearly. She and Steph supported their sister, but it's hard enough to have one sister and then discover you now had another one. After that day she was a different girl.

"My parents are big on moments of clarity. When the stars align, and it becomes apparent what you have to do. They say if you're lucky you get a couple in your life. Well, I had one at 11. If my five-year-old sister could be fearless, so could I.

"The world is going to change and we're going to be the ones to do it. So let's make sure it is a better place after we're finished. Time to get to work, donkeys," she said, folding up her papers. She walked off the stage to applause, including a section of the theater standing and cheering.

"Did Shrek ever say that second bit about hard work?" Meg asked as we were getting up to leave.

"Shhhh. Like Babs is ever going to watch a 50-year-old animated movie."

"Lying to your daughter. Appalling."

"If the two of you have finished bantering, perhaps Ben would like to go and check in with Cassie to make sure she's ok. It was a lovely speech, but that might have been a lot for her," Kitten said.

"Of course," I said and went looking for her. I didn't have to search for her long. She was in the corridor chatting with Erin.

"You ok, kiddo?" I asked. It was a waste of time asking Erin to give us a moment; Cassie would just give her the recap two seconds after I left.

"Yeah, I'm good," she said, pushing back some of her blonde hair over her ear. I'm not an expert on teenage girl angst, but she did seem fine. "Babs told me a week or so ago what she wanted to do and read what she had. I suggested a few changes, and that was that. It's not like everyone here doesn't already know who I am. It was pretty cool that she wanted to include me in her big moment."

"That's true. But it's also pretty awesome that you're willing to share yourself like that too," I said. "Never stop surprising me or being awesome, Cassie."

She smiled and hugged me, no small thing for an almost teenage girl to do in her school.

"Thanks, dad."

Later, we were all outside posing for more pictures. Babs was in good spirits now that the stress of her speech was over. Still, I could tell my daughters were starting to get antsy. There's only so long you can pose for pictures with your parents and family before you want to go and hang out with your friends.

Still, I had one last thing that needed doing.

"Ok, quick family meeting," I said to the girls. There were eye rolls and groans, but they all came over by a tree I was standing under to get some shade. Kitten came over as well and took my hand. We talked about this moment for a few weeks, and I was nervous but ready.

"First, it's Babs' big day and I've said probably a hundred times today how proud I am of her. But I wanted you to know how proud we are of all of you. We give you a hard time, but we couldn't be happier with all of you. You're all amazing young women," I said.

I could see the predictable reaction. A mixture of eye rolls, but also secretly thrilled that their parents were proud of them. I learned from my dad; you have to say these things. Never wait decades and just assume they know.

"Babs' speech talked about change. And I know you've all thought that line is weird, but I do believe it," I said, pausing. "Her speech is also the perfect time to talk to you about something. I never talked about my life before I met your mom. I know some of you have done some digging and prying...."

There were no denials because everyone knew it was Babs who had been the nosiest. Fortunately, I had a limited presence online and her aunties and mom agreed to keep their mouths shut.