Stacy's Song (9 page)

*
***

Jimmy's van was parked outside the club. This meant our band had arrived. There were a lot of other cars as well, which surprised me because usually the place doesn't fill up until at least nine o'clock, and it was only seven-thirty.

As we walked into the main room, I saw that Michael, Liz and Jimmy had already set up.

“She's here,” Liz called out. Then, suddenly they began to play Happy Birthday. Now there were people coming at me from everywhere yelling
“
Surprise
!”
And it
was a surprise. My mother was the first to hug
me, then
D
ad, and even Andy. Karen and Randy were next
and
all the new friends that were
Greg's crowd. On stage
Michael started playing Sixteen Candles.

“Come on,” Greg said, “let's dance.”

“Did you know about this?”

“Of course.” He shot me big, dazzling smile that betrayed his stunning, white teeth. The guy was a dentist's dream.

It was a special night for me.
The people I cared about the most surrounded me
. Even Mr. Kemp was there. He came in carrying a large cake with pink and white frosting and sparklers on the top. His cigar ashes narrowly missed the roses of pink icing.

“I hope you'll perform here for a long time to come.”

“I hope so, too,” I told him.

I got up on stage and the club enveloped me in its magical atmosphere. The recently redecorated nightclub was cool and almost living up to its name. Mr. Kemp had done it over in a tropical paradise motif. There were potted palms, fishnets with conch and other exotic shells attached, as well as waitresses in grass skirts. Mr. Kemp and his bartender wore brightly colored Hawaiian shirts. I felt as if I'd run off to Tahiti.

Michael didn't quite fit in. He was the man in black again. We did a duet and then I performed with the group for a while.
It was a lot of fun. Afterwards
we took a long break. I was talking with Michael, Li
z and Jimmy when Greg joined us
handing me a glass of punch. Liz and Jimmy said hello to Greg and then walked away to get something to drink too.

“Mike, how you been?” Greg asked in his friendly manner.

“Why
,
Greg
,
do you really care?” Same old Michael, hostile and bitter!

“I didn't know you two knew each other,” I said.

“We used to,” Michael corrected.

Greg
looked decidedly uncomfortable
shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He pulled at the shirt collar that was
suddenly tight around his thick-corded
neck.

“That was when I could see. I knew a lot of people then that I don't know now.”

“Hey
,
I've been real busy. The fact is the only guys I spend time with are involved in sports. But I've been meaning to drop by and visit. I'll give you a call.”

“Yeah
,
we can do lunch
right? Don't trouble yourself,” Michael said. “I don't think we'd have anything to say to
each other. I guess you noticed
I'm not into sports anymore. The only game I play these days is Blind Man's Bluff.”

At that moment, my father joined us and I let out a sigh of relief. I
introduced my father to Michael as
he already knew Greg.

“I don't pretend to know much about music,” my father told Michael, “but my daughter does and she tells me you're very talented.”

“Does she?” Michael spoke in a slightly mocking tone of voice.

My dad may not know much about music, but when it comes to picking up on attitude, he's got the radar of a bat. “Stacy inherited her musical talent from my wife.”

“I guess you don't think much of music.”

“I wouldn't say that.” My father looked uncomfortable. “I just don't feel that music is terribly important in the overall scheme of things.”

I could tell right away that Michael and my dad weren't going to hit it off. It made me uneasy.

Dad turned to Greg with a smile. “So how did the two of you enjoy dinner?”

“G
reat, sir. Stacy is terrific to be with. I've never known a girl
like her before. Next to Stacy
they're all a bunch of airheads.”

“You make a very handsome couple,” my father said with obvious satisfaction. Why did I get the feeling that if Dad could, he'd have dated Greg himself?

Michael started to walk away. I tried to warn hi
m but before I could say a word
he smacked into Randy full force and nearly lost his balance.

“Hey
,
fella
take it easy,” Randy said, steadying him. “You ought to use a cane or something.”

“Get away from me,” Michael said, loud and belligerent.

“Sure thing.”

I started toward Michael, but Liz had already taken his arm to guide him.

“There's something wrong with that boy,” my father observed.

“He's blind, Daddy.”

My father furrowed his brow. “It goes beyond that. I don't see how you work with him. He's moody and unpleasant, isn't he?”

“With Michael, you tend to forgive a lot.”

G
reg put his arm around me. “You
have a good heart
,
Stace.”

“Yes, Stacy is a
special girl.” My father smiled at us. He wasn't quite as tall as Greg, who was the tallest person present, but he was trim and distinguished-looking with touches of gray invading the dark brown hair at his temples. I decided my dad was the handsomest man in the room and felt proud that he was my father.

Dad gave me a hug
something he rarely did. He w
as not big on showing affection
and definitely not in public. But I guess this was a special occasion for him too. “It's nice to see you with Greg. You're showing good taste in friends.” His approval was evident.

My dad and Greg began talking about football and I think I yawned. Pretty soon, my mother joined us. She had a radiant look on her face and I could tell she was feeling happy. “So it was a surprise?” she asked.

“Yes. I never had an inkling.”

“You knew we
wouldn't forget your birthday didn't you?” When she smiled
small lines formed around her eyes that showed her warmth and character.

“I know you love me. I figured you planned to celebrate over the weekend.”

“It was actually Karen's idea to have the
party here. She thought you'd
like it.”

“I do.” I went over to Karen and Randy and thanked them for the great party. Karen glowed with pleasure. “I'm having a wonderful time,” I said. “Thanks, Karen. You're a true friend.”

Andy came over and plopped down between Karen and Randy. “Did you know that an ostrich's eye is bigger than its brain?”

Randy ruffled my brother's hair.
“Yeah
,
sport? I know some people like that.”

“Starfish got no brains at all.”

“I know some people like that, too.”

“Do they play football?” my brother asked.

Karen and I laughed.

“Your brother's got a fresh mouth,” Randy said with a deep frown.

“Andrew
,
go bother someone else,” I said.

“I like Karen,” he said. “She's pretty.”

“Now there we agree,” Randy said.

Seeing he'd won us over again, my little brother was determined to hold up his end of the conversation. He's more of a performer than me and loves an audience. “I read that a cockroach can live nine days without its head before it starves to death.”

“Ugh! That's gross,” Karen said.

“Find someone else to share these morsels of infor
mation with,” I told my brother
in no uncertain terms.

“Okay,” he said, giving me some attitude but moving on.

“Sorry,” I said.

“It's all right,” Randy said, “the squirt was just trying to impress us.”

I rejoined my parents and Greg.

My father turned toward me. “Stacy, did you know Greg is planning to go to Princeton?”

“Hopin
g to go there is more like it
,
sir. My dad went there. I hope to follow in his footsteps. I've got decent grades and I am captain of
the football and baseball teams
,
but even so
it won't be easy. You never know with the
Ivy League c
olleges just who or wha
t they're looking for. Anyway
I'm applyin
g to a lot of different schools
just in case.”

“The
y'd be fools not to snap you up
,
s
on.” No, it wasn't my imagination; my father was salivating over Greg.

I saw Michael signal Liz and Jimmy to return to the bandstand, and I went to join them.

Michael immediately sensed my presence. “You don't have to play anymore with us tonight.”

“That's all right. I'm part of the group.”

“No
,
not tonight. T
his is your party, your friends and
your family. Just go and enjoy yourself.” He took me forcefully with his strong hands and pushed me toward the steps of the stage.

“Michael!” I felt keen
ly
hurt.

“We
'll do without you tonight. Now
get out of here!”

I was so angry at him
I felt like punching him.

“What's the matter?” my father asked, looking in Michael's direction.

“Nothing.”

“You do look upset,” Greg agreed.

Michael starte
d playing something with a hard
fast beat.

“Let's just dance,” I told Greg.

“Sure,” he agreed.

It
was a special evening all right
but Michael sure had a way of spoiling it!

A few days later, Greg asked me to be his date for the Thanksgiving Dance. Th
at was a no brainer. I accepted
of course. The dance was a big deal for us since it represented the end of the football season. The te
am had been doing well. In fact
,
if we won the next two games
there was some talk of going on to
a state championship. At school
e
verybody was upbeat. We were
thinking football. It made us all feel like winners.

I hardly even paid any attention to the report card that was sent home. But my father paid a lot of attention to it.

“You're doing below average work in several courses. This is the worst report card you've ever had. How could you let this happen?” His spine stiffened as he stared at me. “Don't you do your homework?”

“As much as
I have time for
,
Dad. But I've been
busy, real busy. There just doesn
't seem to be enough hours in the day.”

“Well, you better make extra hours.” His stern eyes pinned me with their intensity. “Good grades are important. I expect school work will be your number one priority.”

I nodded; I never argued with my father when he was in that kind of mood.

“You could drop that band of y
ours for starters. I believe that
blind boy is a very negative influence on you.”

I stared at my father in surprise. “I love playing
in the band
,
Dad.”

“We'll see,” he said in a way that made me uneasy. A chill slithered down my spine.

 

While I was sti
ll smarting from my report card
,
problems developed with Michael. We'd managed to rub along well eno
ugh in our working relationship
but suddenly he wanted me to devote even more time to practice.

The
day after report cards came out
Michael announced that we had an important gig. “We're going to play at the Thanksgiving Dance,” he told us. “The student council at Wilson had such good feedback about the job we did at the Sock Hop that they want us back to play for the big Thanksgiving Dance.”

“Fine by me,” Jimmy said.

“What do you think, Stacy?” Michael waited for a response.

I hesitated. “It's great
but I can't play.”

“What?” Michael's dark brows knitted together.

“I
can't.” I had no desire to elaborate, but he wouldn't let me off that easily.

“Why can't you play?”

“Because, if you must know, I've already accepted an invitation from Greg to be his date for the dance.”

“Tell him you can't go.” Michael's dark glasses confronted and intimidated me.

I wasn't about to let him push me around. “I will not! How dare you even suggest it?”

Liz stepped between us. “Look
,
for one evening
we can get someone else to play guitar
.
”

“What about the vocals?” Michael barely controlled his anger, but I was just as furious.

I had a right to my own life. I was getting sick and tired of being bossed around.

“You and I can manage the singing. Maybe Stacy will come up and join us for a few numbers.”

“Of course
I will.”

“Hey
,
don't do us any favors,” Michael countered. His strong hands pressed down hard against the top of the piano.

“You're impossible!” I shouted at h
im and hurried
out, afraid I'd
lose it and say something much worse if I stayed any longer.

*
***

The following week, Liz joined me in the cafeteria for lunch. At l
east Liz and I could be friends
in spite of Michael. “Did you get your dress yet for the Thanksgiving Dance?” Liz asked.

“I haven't had time to look around. I have to shop this weekend.”

“Me too. It's only a week away and they expect us to dress up.”

“You're kidding,” I said.

“Honor bright,” Liz responded.
“They're awfully conservative around here. The guys are expected to wear tuxes, or at the very least dark suits, and they expect me to wear an appropriate dress.”

“Who says?”

“The main man.” Mr. Reymer, our principal, was even more of a dictator than my dad or Michael. “He's so old and stodgy.”

“Imagine if you showed up dressed like most professional performers.”

“Right,” Liz agreed. “Maybe I should do my clothes shopping at the hardware store.”

We giggled together. I kind of snorted.

“I think you'd look great with purple hair and a black leather jacket.”

“Black lipstick might be a nice touch. Maybe I could press on some fake tattoos. Can you see me with a nose ring? How about some piercings? Can you imagine Reymer's expression?” We shared a laugh.

Liz and I m
et
up to shop for dresses on Saturday. Our excursion made me realize Liz and I had different attitudes regarding money. Liz insisted we go to her mother's shop where she could get a discount. The first thing she looked at was the price tag. She refused to
even try on the better dresses
,
making do with one that had been marked way down. I'm
not what you'd call extravagant
but my parents always made me feel I needn't worry about spending a little
extra if there was something I truly
wanted. The way Liz shopped brought home to me how hard things were financially for her family.

“It's going to be better when we can keep the money from our performances,
”
L
iz said. “Now that school is on
I can't work as many hours here at the store.”

After Liz chose her dress, I asked her to shop with me in another store.
I didn't see Mrs. Norris, but I
didn't want to run into Liz's mother if I could help it. I think Liz understood because she was quite willing to stay with me and let me choose where we went next. I didn't relax until I had escaped from the store. My humiliation seemed to hang in the air. I'd been dumb and dumber confronting Michael's mother the way I did. How I wished I could change the past! But it was too late for that. I just planned not to do anything
that rash again and keep my big
fat mouth shut.

I visited several stores before locating a dress that fit me properly. They don't have giraffes in mind w
hen they tailor dresses. Anyway
,
I finally found a pastel blue with a square cut n
eckline that flattered my shape
,
making me look more curvy than I was.

“You've got a perfect model's figure,” Liz said as I paid for the dress.

I looked at her in surprise. “Me? I've got a terrible shape.”

“No, you don't. Besides
models are supposed to be tall and slim. You look positively elegant in that dress.”

“Glad you think so,” I said.

She gave me a warm smile. “Don't ever put yourself down. Others can do it so much better.”

We walked through the mall and decided on burgers at the food court. We both chose cokes and shared an order of fries.

“Do we have enough money yet for the band equipment?”

Liz nodded her head, munching thoughtfully. “Just about. Michael wants you to come along with Jimmy and m
e when we pick out the amps and
keyboard for him.”

“Isn't he coming too? He should choose the synthesizer for himself.”

“I know,” Liz agreed, “but he won't leave the house to go to a store. He thinks people will stare at him.”

“Yet it doesn't bother him to perform on stage. I don't understand.”

Liz's gray eyes had an owlish qual
ity. “When Michael's performing
he's in his own world. He doesn't even think about his blindness then. Without his music, I don't know what would happen to him.” Liz licked her lips. “Promise me that no matter
what happens or how he behaves
you won't give up on him.”

I didn't answer her right away. “Sorry
,
but I can't make a promise like that. It's not fair for you to ask. You know I care
about Michael
but I don't think that's enough.”

“He
cares about you too,” Liz said with an earnest expression. “He just keeps all his feelings bottle
d up inside. Since the accident
he's closed himself off. Music is his only link to the outside world—music and you.”

I wished
she wouldn't do that to me. I
hated it. It was as if she wanted to make me responsible
for Michael. At that moment
I
resented Liz.
I felt she was trying to manipulate me.

*
***

Bec
ause of what Liz had said
I insisted Michael let me sing with him at the Thanksgiving dance. They got another boy to play bass guitar. I thought he played well.

I joined the group for at least
one vocal in every set. Mostly
they played instrumentals anyway because everyone wanted to dance. I enjoyed getting up and sin
ging with the band.
Funny, I'm
shy about speaking in front of a class, and yet I never feel as good as when I'm performing music for an audience
.
For me
that was the high point of the evening.

Greg was very understanding. The nicest thing about him was his easy ways. He was never demanding of my time and was just as content to be with his guy friends talking sports as he was dancing with me. We had a good time at the dance.

After the dance, Greg and I went out with Randy, Karen and the rest of Greg's football buddies. We ended up at Club Paradise because there just weren't any other places open in
our town by midnight. Although
the team had lost the Thanksgiving game to our arch-rival Southvale and wouldn't
be going on to the state finals
,
spirits were still high. Greg took the loss in stride and the rest of his friends seemed to follow his lead.

“There's always another season,” he
said. “As for me
I intend to
rock them during baseball. We'll be champions yet!” He raised a root beer toast.

M
r. Kemp had a good band playing, not as good as ours
of course, but they had a nice sound. Randy told a bunch of bad jokes and Karen was polite enough t
o laugh. Then again
Karen was big-time
happy these days. It looked like Lori Rosen wasn't returning to the cheering squad until at least March.

Karen's dream had beco
me a reality; the most popular kids in school accepted both Karen and me
. The only person I didn't get along
with was Cindy Ellis
and that
wasn't my fault. Unfortunately
I made the mistake of being in the rest room the same time as her. I was applying lipstick when I caught her looking at me in th
e mirror as she combed her long
g
olden hair. If looks could kill
I would have been impaled, burned alive, mutilated, and otherwise made a perfect victim in a Stephen King novel.

I
determined that I
wouldn't shrink away and act like a coward. “Something bothering you?” I said.

Her pretty pink mouth turned into a pout. “You think you've got Greg but you don't. No more than I did. He'll drop you just the way he did me.”

“Look
,
I had nothing to do with your break-up.”

She fin
ished combing her perfect blond
hair and placed the co
mb back in her evening bag. “No
,
I
guess you didn't. The thing is
he'll get tired of you soon enough. You're nothing special. Maybe he'll even
come back to me. But if he does
I'll make him pay before I forgive him.” I envisioned her interrogating suspects with a whip in some dank prison.
I felt a chill slither down my spine.

“What makes you think Greg and I aren't crazy about each other?”

“You forget, I know him—better than you think. I know how shallo
w, superficial and self-absorbed
he is. The all-Ame
rican boy athlete has
no substanc
e. You might be wild about Greg
but he'll never care that much about you. He's not capable of it.”

“If you feel that way
why would you want him back?”

“Did I say
I was any different? Besides
it's an interesting challenge.”

I
shook my head and
left her standing there
admiring her
beautiful façade in the mirror
,
considering her next conquest.

 

As it turned out, I never did go shopping with Liz and Jimmy for the band equipment. After the Thanksgiving Dance, they had enough money to pay for everything. The fee for the dance had pu
t the total over the top. I was
glad, but my time factor was tighter than ever.

I was having trouble, especially with physics. No matter how hard I studied, I couldn't achieve the grades I needed. The best I seemed able to swin
g on the tests was a “C.” That
didn't cut it with my dad. Often I took a short nap after dinner. Then I set the alarm and studied from eleven to two or three in the mor
ning
making sure I did a
ll my homework. The trouble was
,
then I was too tired to concentrate fully on what the teachers were explaining in class. I caught myself nodding off from time to time. It was a vicious cycle that I didn't know how to break out of
.

On top of that
Michael wanted a great deal from me in the way of rehearsal time. He wouldn't lighten up in his demands.

“Liz has signed us up for a band competition. If w
e can win over the other groups
we can get som
e important recognition.
It
's time we tested ourselves, to see how we measure up. But we've got to practice. We need a professional sound. We can't afford to be sloppy.” Michael was a hard taskmaster, a demanding perfectionist. He and my dad might not have liked each other, but they had more in common then either of them realized.

One evening
I found myself yawning and goofing up on a few notes. My eyelids kept closing. “I have to quit early,” I told him.

“Are things getting too hard for the rah-rah girl? Why don't you give us a cheer with your pom-poms?”

I so disliked
him when he talked tha
t way. “You're an inhuman beast
,
unfeeling pond scum
slime. I hate you!”

“Good, put those emotions into your playing,” he responded.

I practically threw the guitar in his face. “You're torturing me.” I left without looking back.

The next afternoon, Liz phoned and tried to smooth things over.

“I'm sick of it,” I told her. “He's never satisfied! He wants more than I can give.”

“He demands the most of himself,” she reminded me.

“I wish you'd stop making apologies for him.”

“Stace
,
I wouldn't if he
could do it for himself. Please
,
please
don't give up on us.”

“All right. I'll practice, but there are limits.”

“I'll tell him,” she promised.

 

One evening when Greg dropped
by
I told him about the demands Michael was putting on my time.

“Sounds just like him,” Greg sympathized. “We use
d to be friends a long time ago
,
played together on the same baseball team. He was our star pitcher
and the toughest man to put out
but he always expected a lot from all of
us, too much. Never satisfied
,
that was
him
.”

“Were you very good friends?” I asked.

“More like friendly rivals
you might say. At one time
I guess I was a little jealous of his abilities. I think he might have played pro ball if it weren't for his accident. He had a lot of talent and he was willing to work hard. Can't say I ever felt his kind of
obsessive
dedication. He always took things too seriously, no sense of humor.
Too hard-nosed.
Seemed almost pathological.”

“He is a fanatic,” I agreed.

“Don't know how we ever became friends in the first place. All we shared was an interest in baseball.”

“Couldn't you still be friends?”

He trained his eyes on the rug in my living room. “Got nothing in common anymore.”

“You mean
since the accident.”

Greg nodded his head
and I now understood why Michael felt such resentment toward Greg. If
the situation had been reversed
I doubted Michael would have dropped
Greg as his friend. Then again Greg was right
,
all they ever
shared was a love for playing sports.

“Hey,” Greg said, “let's not talk about Michael Norris anymore. Let's talk about yo
u and me.” He moved closer. “I
do like you a lot. You're smart and you have a good sense of humor. You're fun to be with.” One of the nice things about Greg was the ease with which he bestowed compliments. He had a charming manner.

He
took me into his ar
ms and kissed me. It was a firm
juicy kiss planted wi
th a perfect sense of direction
,
just the way Greg threw passes to his receivers.

And I f
ound myself backing away. “Greg
,
my mother's in the kitchen!”

“She won't mind and neither would your dad.”

I didn't let him kiss me again b
ecause the truth was
I hadn't
felt anything that first time. I
know I should have been excited
,
thrilled
,
elated, but I wasn't. And I di
dn't understand why. All I knew was
something wasn't right. The chemistry between us was off. It totally confused me.