Hello Loved Ones (29 page)

“I was just wondering why you never wrote, or called.”

He sighed. “Prudy thought you kids were better off without me. Why should I argue with her?”

Three reasons. And she was one of them.

“Don’t you feel bad about it?”

“I could spend time feeling bad about a lot of things, but who wants to be miserable?” He faced her, his hands on his hips. “Now if you want to make yourself miserable over seeing me tonight, I’ll just go.”

“No, no, please!” She pulled his arm. What was it with her parents, that neither could say those simple words?
I’m sorry.
She’d feel so much better. She ought to tell him, but asking for an apology…well, it was like someone handing you a glass of warm water on a hot day. It tides you over, but it’s not real enjoyable.

He softened. “Why do you think I’m here, huh?”

Sally smiled. Of course he felt bad. Who wouldn’t feel bad after being thrown out by your wife and son and being alone for ten long years? And here Sally was picking on him, making him dredge up the feelings he probably worked so hard to hide. She would not ask for more than he could give. She would not wreck it!

“Mom doesn’t date,” she said.

“How about you? Anyone special?”

She thought of Cash. “There’s one boy I like all right.”

“Does he treat you good?”

Hmm. There was the way he pretended to ditch her at Stuckey’s, the way he’d gotten mad when she wouldn’t go to the beach with him, the way he peeled out without saying goodbye after they had kissed.

“Not really.”

He laughed. “Then you must be madly in love! Hell, boys around here aren’t good enough for you. You never want to end up with someone you knew in high school. It’s the kiss of death. Look at your mother and me.”

But Sally didn’t want to think anymore about her mother, or Lenny or Nell. She wanted to talk about boys, or school, or whatever ordinary things a father and daughter talked about. She wanted to have fun.

“So tell me about your friends,” he said. The connection was there, between them! In their DNA. “Will they be surprised to see me?”

“Frannie is my best friend. She knows everything now. She’ll be there with her dad, Verle, but he doesn’t talk much. Then there’s Debs and Patty Ann. They’re ok sometimes, but mostly they’re stuck up. You know, all giggly and snooty-like.”

“They give you a hard time?”

Sally shrugged. “They give everyone a hard time.” She smiled. “But once, in second grade, I split Patty Ann’s lip open when I socked her in the mouth.”

He laughed again. Sally loved the way it sounded, like a big round bubble that came out in a burst and hung in the air. She could reach out a finger and pop it.

“Why’d you hit her?” he asked.

“She made fun of my clothes.” She said this as if it were funny, when it had been anything but. She wondered, did he have any idea how bad off they’d been without him? If he did he didn’t show it.

“Lenny taught me how to make a good fist,” she said. That was another thing her dad might have taught her if he’d been around. The old sadness started seeping in and she had to will it away. Was every conversation going to be a reminder of something she never had?

Something seemed to change in him, too. There was a gloominess when he said, “Yeah. Lenny’s a born fighter. That much I know.”

Were they both remembering Lenny’s bat, and the way he’d hit Richard with it that night ten years ago? Sally wished those years weren’t separating them. It was such a wide gap. Whatever they said to each other now was no more than throwing rocks in a hole.

“Are you still drinking?” she asked. She might as well throw the boulders first.

He laughed. “You’ve been dying to ask, haven’t you?”

“So what if I have? It’s a big night for me, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“I haven’t had a drink in, oh, at least seven or eight days, so don’t worry. I’m good and sober.”

She tried to hide her shock. “Seven
days?
Is that a long stretch for you?”

“What are you, my sponsor?”

“Oh, so you go to….those meetings.”

“Didn’t I just say I’m sober? If that’s not good enough—”

Here was a balancing act that had nothing to do with her shoes.

“No. Of course it is.”

They walked without speaking until they got to the church. There was a knot of girls in fluffy dresses out front. And the Texaco station across the street. If only Cash could see her now! Wouldn’t he be shocked? If he hadn’t dumped her off like he did, she might have called him to let him know how everything turned out.

Wait a minute. Why should she want anything to do with Cash? Look at her! She was as pretty as any other girl, and twice as sensible. Which of these girls would have the gumption to do what she’d done, locating a father who’d been gone for ten years? Now that he was back, things were going to be different. She might stand a chance with one of the popular boys, like Roy Westveer or Jimmy Dorn. Still, she kept looking over at the station as they approached. She heard someone say
Hiya Sally
.

It was Patty Ann and Debs, walking arm in arm in that childish way they had, as if everyone didn’t know they were the best of friends. Sally’s mouth went dry. If her dad was going to be ridiculed, it would begin with them. Everyone else would follow.

She swallowed. “Hi. Here’s my dad.” So she blurted it out. Who could blame her?

Richard tilted his head back and looked down his nose at them. “These the ones you told me about?”

She nodded. He took Debs’ hand, leaned in close, and said in a voice you’d use with a five-year-old, “High school is not the slightest bit important in the grand scheme of things. You girls realize that, don’t you?”

Their faces went slack with surprise. Patty Ann recovered first.

“Sally just talks about you constantly,” she said sweetly. “In fact, she never shuts up.”

“I do
not,
” Sally said. Prissy-ass bitches. If she did talk about her dad, it wasn’t to the two of them.

Richard laughed. There were those gaps, where his teeth were missing. She wished he wouldn’t open his mouth quite so much. But she was awful to be so picky. It wasn’t like any of the other dads were Hollywood handsome.

“I’m just giving you girls a hard time. I know you can take it. Look at you! Top of the food chain, that’s for sure.” He gave a long whistle.

Debbie and Patty-Ann smiled uncertainly and ducked away. Richard took Sally’s arm.

“Don’t worry about the losers in this hick town,” he whispered. “They’ll wind up married to the football players, with nice houses and a bunch of kids and they’ll be bored and miserable their whole lives.”

“Actually…” That first part sounded pretty good to Sally. But she could see what he was trying to say. Wasn’t she just telling herself the same thing? Aim higher!

Inside the foyer they found a table covered with name tags. She half expected to be left out, to find that they wouldn’t be getting the same treatment as everyone else. But there they were.
Richard Van Sloeten. Sally Van Sloeten
. See, he belonged here, same as anyone. She handed his name tag to him, then peeled the waxy backing from hers and pressed it on her chest. People were bustling around them, and they were briefly separated by a whirl of glittering, giggling girls smelling of perfume and hairspray. He caught her eye over the top of a dark-haired head and smiled, then reached out a flat hand, meaning she should give him her balled up paper for him to throw away. How thoughtful he was!

“I’m surprised old peckerwood hasn’t moved on yet,” he said, pointing to the plaque on the wall that said
Reverend Phillip Voss.

“Excuse me?”

“Voss. That’s my name for him. You like it?”

“Why do you call him that?”

He snickered like a kid. “I’ll tell you later.”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed too. The things he said! His attitude, the way he walked, the way he rolled his shoulders, and looked around with those sparkly eyes like he was looking to take on the world. Maybe he was a little rough around the edges, with the dent in his head and the missing teeth, but he seemed fresher and more alive than anyone else. She hoped it would rub off on her.

The banquet was in the Fellowship Hall, which was a nice name for basement. Sally’s breath caught as she looked around. Why had she never appreciated the 4-H Club? They’d worked a miracle. The tables were covered with white cloths and crepe paper flowers (Lenny should be proud!) and giant ribbon bows hung from the backs of the metal folding chairs. Long pieces of fabric covered the ugly ceiling tiles and billowed gently in the breeze from the fans. Candles flickered everywhere and gave it all a gently, dreamy look. The only bright light came from the corner, where there was a painted backdrop of a starry night behind a white swing. For a dollar Mrs. Dekker, the church secretary, would take a Polaroid. Finally Sally would have a picture of her and her dad! She could tape it on her mirror in her bedroom.

“Want to get one?” Sally asked, motioning toward the swing. She didn’t want to seem too anxious but there was no line yet, her lipstick was still fresh, and if they waited Mrs. Dekker might run out of film, or break the camera. Anything was possible.

Her dad was surveying the room with a beady-eyed look.

“Sure,” he shrugged, following her over.

“Well!” Mrs. Dekker squinted. “Who’s this?”

“My dad,” Sally said proudly.

“Oh!” Mrs. Dekker was startled. “Of course.”

“Nice to see you, too,” Richard said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. Sally stared at him.

“She knows me!” he hissed as they took their places, Sally on the swing with Richard behind her. “I saw her every month for years when I sold tithing envelopes here.”

“She’s like eighty-something. She didn’t recognize you.”

But he was scowling. “It’s bullshit.”

“It was ten years ago!”

“Shut up and smile,” he said, slapping a hand on her shoulder.

The flash went off before she was ready and Sally feared the moment was ruined. She didn’t want to be punished for the past any more than he did. But couldn’t they make a fresh start without trampling on anyone’s feelings?

Mrs. Dekker handed her the Polaroid and Sally watched the milky white square intently, waiting for their images to appear. Again, she expected to somehow be left out. There would be a strange smudge where her face should be. Or her dad wouldn’t show up at all. Something to tell her this wasn’t really happening.

Then there they were. A little blurry, their smiles unsure, but visible. Real. She gave her dad a happy, goofy grin and tucked the photo in her purse.

“C’mon,” she said, “There’s some people over there I want you to meet.”

She dragged him across the room, an electricity crackling in her ears. This was just so perfect! It had to be the greatest reunion in the history of reunions! She ought to call the Sentinel and tell them to send their best reporter. Surely it was front page news.

“That’s Stanley,” she said, pointing to one of the boys lined up against the wall. “See, the boys work as waiters. Isn’t that fun? Anyway, we’re in homeroom together. You can talk baseball with him. He’s a big fan, like Lenny.” She knew she was talking a mile a minute, but she didn’t care. In fact, seeing the boys just made her more giddy. Could they tell from looking at her that she’d been kissed? Were they noticing her dress, or her mysteriously mascaraed eyes? Did her legs look more shapely in heels?

“And over there, that’s Myrna, she’s the brainy one, so you can use big words all you want. She knows them all. But be yourself, of course.”

“What am I, a goddamn puppet?”

She stopped. Where was the easy grin, the bubble-like laugh, the cocky tilt of his chin? He had his hands shoved in his pockets and his eyes were shifting uneasily. She was reminded of an animal in a cage.

“Sorry.” Now that they were in the middle of the room, she felt the eyes on them too. Curious eyes. Confused, calculating,
judging
eyes. She straightened. It was okay. She’d expected as much. All the same, when she saw Frannie waving at her from across the room, she nearly went weak with relief.

“Frannie!” Sally squeezed past some people and hugged her friend before introducing her dad.

“Doesn’t Frannie look great?” Sally said.

Richard seemed to be collecting himself. He gave his tie a quick cinch, and with a hard blink flipped some switch in his face. There. A smile. He cocked his head and said, “Next to you, dear, all others fade.”

So maybe he was a little thoughtless. Because Frannie
was
plain, there was no hiding it. But he was only trying to make Sally feel special. How could she blame him for that? She’d just have to help him think about his words before he said them.

How exactly would she do that?

“Let’s sit,” he said, and she nodded.

“Well?” Frannie whispered, pulling on her elbow. “How’s it going?”