Nara Malone

Creative Commons Search photo by mtsofan_on_Flickr

My graduation party was held in a washed up western-style bar out on Black Horse Pike. Why? Because, my dad got a last minute gig filling in for a band that cancelled. Because, Aunt Nadine got it in her head that my father had to show up for at least one of the big events in his daughter’s life. And because, after this college graduation it would be hard for Nadine to inject her will over our affairs.

Never mind that there were only four of us celebrating  — not counting my dad and his band. Never mind that the only thing more scarred than the plank floors and tabletops were the scattering of customers busy burying memories in beer. Nadine was fervently insisting this night’s memories were worth saving, while she squinted at her cell phone, angling it just so and punching buttons.

“I swanee, Arie, you never smile. This is your party, honey.” Her tone had more force when she added, “Look happy.”

I pushed my lips into my best imitation of joy, somewhat confidant that the new cell phone was more technology than Nadine could master. At least the humiliation of this night would only live in the minds of those present.

And despite all the fuss about a party, and the exhaustion that lingered after the drive cross-country with Nadine and Uncle Eddie, I was with my dad again. We’d have the summer together before I had to start at my new job. I had three offers that didn’t involve a move to India (bio-med engineers are in big demand even in hard times). It would be good to chat with him about the options while we played in the surf and took long father-daughter strolls down the beach. At that thought, a soft glow warmed me from the inside and my smile turned genuine.

A battered cowboy hat covered his curly hair and stubble from a three-day growth of beard rounded out his “rustic” look. He looked happy up on the stage with his ragged collection of misfit musicians. That was all that mattered. Happy was a description that rarely applied to my dad, and when it did, it was while he was lost in his music.

His newest wife, Willa, looked happy too. Happy was a term that didn’t apply to new wives for long either.

Nadine’s lips pursed in a way that made the thick coat of red lipstick crack. Her camera lens seemed to be tracking something over my shoulder. I risked a quick glance and my heart stalled, my stomach sinking as fast as a cowboy tossed from his saddle. A guy was walking toward the bar with a lazy half-stroll/half-limp gait– a guy complete with cowboy hat and boots and no ring on that left hand, and the only guy in the place that was under the age of fifty. I had been the target of Nadine’s matchmaking efforts often enough to know where her mind was headed. I wondered how long I could get away with hiding out in the ladies’ room.

I was not into cowboys, but Nadine adored anything western. The décor at her house would have done a lot to liven up the western atmosphere in the bar, especially her branding iron collection.

I was particularly wary of a guy that would walk around New Jersey dressed like he was ready to ride the range. That would only endear him to Nadine. He had at least ten years on me too — which I noticed when he turned, caught me looking, and sent me a crooked smile.

I whipped back around to stare down Nadine. “Don’t even think about it.”

She flipped her camera shut, dropped it in her purse, and slid into a chair next to Eddie. She patted her perm with one hand even as she said, “He’s got his eye on you, Arie.”

I was the only woman in the bar who wasn’t at least a decade older than him, including two waitresses from the Dale Evans’ era, complete with red and white-fringed western skirts. It wouldn’t have been polite to point that out, so I bit into a slice of pizza that had gone cold and chased it with warm beer.

Lucky me, the band took a break at that point and Dad’s arrival took everyone’s attention. He kissed the top of my head and settled beside me. “Arie girl, come play the next set with us.”

I shook my head. Playing at family reunions and such was one thing, playing in front of strangers made me sweat and throw up.

Nadine rescued me. Sort of. “She’s going to be dancing the next set with that nice looking cowboy over there.”

Of course, everyone had to turn and look in the direction Nadine nodded. Of course, they weren’t casual about it:  Eddie glared; Dad inspected him like he was a snake and possibly venomous; Willa gave him an appreciative head-to-toe study and smoothed her long blond hair. I slid a little lower in my chair and ate more pizza, hoping I looked as unappealing as the meal tasted.

Fortunately, the Jersey Shore cowboy didn’t fly with Dad. He looked at me and shook his head. “When the pickings are this slim, maybe it’s best not to pick.”

Nadine wasn’t about to let the chance pass me by. “It’s her graduation party. She should be dancing and having a good time.”

I don’t even like to dance, but I didn’t want to get between them in an argument. Eddie folded his arms over his chest, prepared to watch Nadine and Dad go at it.

“Your Daddy and I got you a nice present, Arie,” Willa said, “Show her Nick.”
Willa didn’t know Dad and Nadine well enough to realize that diversion never diverted them from combat for more than a minute or two. But Nadine was curious so she let it go.

With a wave of his hand and a promising smile, Dad plucked a packet from the inside pocket of his jacket. I recognized the logo and colors of a Greyhound ticket envelope.

He was sending me away again and I hadn’t even had time to unpack.

Imagine you have this dream, and it’s been getting you through the last year. Maybe it has been getting you through your whole life. It’s what you think about when you wait for a bus, stare out a window, or when you’re standing in line at the grocery store. Imagine you’d written it down on paper, copied it out it beautiful calligraphy. Then imagine someone’s idea of a present to you is to crumple it up in a ball and pitch it in a trash basket.

That’s what this felt like. And it felt like that crumpled dream was wedged in my throat when he laid the envelope on the table, tapped the greyhound with one finger and slid it toward me.

“We got you an adventure, Arie. You can go anywhere you want to go for the whole summer.”

I tried to clear my throat and had to take another swallow of beer. It was like soapsuds and I grimaced, focusing on the bitter taste to keep my disappointment from leaking out. Then I smiled. Nadine was wrong when she said I never smiled. I smile a lot; it just doesn’t mean the same thing it does when other people smile.

***

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