Bad Rep

by A. Meredith Walters

  But I was relieved to see a momentary softening in my dad's features. He let out a deep breath and met my eyes in the rear view mirror. “Fine, Maysie. I'll have an open mind.” He conceded and my heart did a little tap dance. That was the closest to compromise I had experienced from my father in a long ass time.

  And then I remembered I had yet to broach the topic of Jordan with either of them. They had no idea who he was and that he'd be joining us for lunch. Maybe while my dad was being semi agreeable, I should let them know I had a) a boyfriend and b) he was crashing our lunch date.

  “So, guys. I wanted to let you know that we would be having company for lunch,” I said lightly as we started heading toward the Administrative building to meet our tour group.

  “Oh, is Riley joining us? I really like that girl. Good head on her shoulders,” my dad said gruffly.

  I looked at my mom, hoping to get some help from that corner. “Well, no. Riley's meeting up with her mom and dad downtown. Actually, a friend of mine, Jordan Levitt, is coming with us,” I said, then watched my mom and dad process that tidbit of information.

  “Jordan Levitt? I've never heard you mention him.” My mom remarked. Well, no duh. I didn't need my relationship picked over the way they picked over everything. Pardon me for wanting to keep something of mine out of their controlling grasp..

  “Yeah. We worked together this summer, at Barton's.” I started but my dad interrupted.

  “That bar?” he asked sharply. Oh crap. I forgot the bullshit I went through when they found out I was waitressing at a bar. My dad had given me so much grief about that. It didn't matter that I was trying to do the responsible thing. Nope. All my dad had heard was that I working at a bar. And of course, that had just been another example of how I was screwing up my life.

  “Uh, yeah. But anyway. He's a senior and we've been seeing each other for a little while.” My dad's jaw tightened. My mom's eyes got wide again. She did that a lot.

  “Is he your boyfriend, Maysie?” she asked. I coughed and nodded.

  “Oh,” my mom said quietly. I peeked up at my dad. His shoulders were tense but he wasn't yelling at me. So that was a good sign.

  “Is that okay? He's really nice and really wants to meet you.” I said quickly. My mom nodded. My dad didn't say anything for a moment and when he decided to speak it was less than heartwarming.

  “It would have been nice to have a little warning that we were going to be meeting the young man you're dating,” my dad said coldly.

  “I'm sorry, Dad,” was all I could say. My dad gave a curt nod and nothing more was said about the matter. We joined our group and headed out for the tour. The same tour I took as a prospective student. The same tour I took my first week as a freshman. The same damn tour I took every flipping year with my parents. It's not like the campus had changed that much.

  I was suddenly very resentful of having to suffer through the mind numbing boredom of that god damn college tour. I'm sure it had everything to do with my mixed up feelings about the two people walking in front of me.

  Why couldn't I ever be enough? Do enough? Growing up, my dad never seemed particularly interested in me. You'd think as a teacher, he'd understand how important parental involvement was. But he just never took the time to get to know me.

  One of my earliest memories was at the age of five, asking my father to play a game of Candy Land. Do you know what he did? He told me he was disappointed that I wasn't playing with the chess set he had gotten me for my birthday. Who gives their five year old daughter chess for their freaking birthday? I wanted pink, sparkly unicorns and Barbie dolls. Not chess! But that's the sort of thing I came to expect from my dad. He never got me something because I liked it. It had to be educational and meant to make me a smarter, better and an all-around perfect person. Too bad his money was spent in vain.

  Because as I got older it became pretty damn clear that the daughter he wanted just wasn't me. I tried so hard in school to get good grades and participate in the activities he wanted me too. I suffered through four excruciating years on the debate team in high school, all because my dad had been the state debate champion when he was a teenager.

  I had hated it. Every single, obnoxious moment of it. I twisted myself inside out trying to please that man and it was never, ever enough. What really hurt was when I had gotten to high school and realized that the relationship I longed for with my father, he was having with every single one of his students.

  He was the most popular teacher at the high school. Everyone wanted to have Mr. Ardin for Honors English Lit. The kids loved him. He was funny, encouraging, motivating. Just not with me. His child.

  I remember going to my dad's classroom one day at lunch time. I had stopped just before going inside. I heard him talking to Sarah Keller, a girl in my grade. She was on the debate team with me and my biggest competition for becoming Valedictorian. She and my dad were talking about colleges that she had applied to and she mentioned USC, my dad's alma mater.

  I had watched while my dad clapped his hand on her shoulder and gave her a supportive smile. Then he had told her how proud he was of her and how he knew she'd succeed. That crushed me. My heart literally fell to pieces right then and there. This girl was experiencing my dad's pride, something I had never had. He looked at her with all the warmth he never once showed me. And part of me died that day.

  I wanted to give up on my need for my dad's approval. But it was so deeply ingrained that I couldn't shake it. And my mom, well, she did very little to curb my dad's militant need for perfectionism. She had her own critiques where I was concerned. Where my dad was obsessed with my academics, my mom was fixated on my popularity.

  You would think, given that they were older when they had me, they wouldn't be as focused on that stuff. They should have just been thankful for the miracle that was me, considering they never thought they'd be able to have kids. But that wasn't my lot in life. Instead, I was born to parents who wished and hoped I'd be someone else. Anyone, but who I was.

  Instead of going all rebel and becoming a crack addicted prostitute, I became the hyper vigilant, overachiever. So when I came to Rinard College, the ties that had bound me so tightly had loosened their grip and I had finally been able to breathe.

  For the first time in my life I could become somebody I could be proud of. So I joined a sorority and now I was dating a bad ass drummer with an eyebrow and tongue ring and a sexy as hell tattoo covering most of his back. My parents were going to hate him. And that juvenile part of me that so desperately wanted her parent's pride and approval, cringed at the thought. Then the other more rebellious side of that same girl, looked forward to watching their faces when they saw Jordan for the first time.

  And as predicted my mom's mouth fell open and my dad's eyes narrowed. We were sat in a booth at Bakersville Deli, having just ordered our drinks when I saw Jordan pull up on his Ducati. Oh shit, he'd ridden his bike. My dad watched out the window as Jordan dismounted and took his helmet off. My father's lip curled in disgust. “How can anyone willingly ride around on those death traps?” he asked in disgust.

  I, on the other hand had to discreetly wipe the drool that started to collect at the corner of my mouth. Jordan was gorgeous. And he was mine. And I didn't give a fig what my dad had to say about that. I followed him with my eyes as he tucked his helmet under his arm and raised a hand to rub it across his dark, buzzed head. He did this when he was nervous or anxious and I found the gesture endearing.

  He had dressed in a dark pair of jeans that hung deliciously on his narrow hips. I could see a button down shirt peeking out from underneath his leather jacket. He came into the deli, looked around and when he saw us, walked over.

  My parents looked horrified when he stopped at our table. I glanced from my parents to Jordan. He gave them a dazzling smile and held out his hand to my father. “Hello, Mr. Ardin. I'm Jordan Levitt, Maysie's boyfriend.” Maysie's boyfriend. We had never exactly established what we were. I mean, I knew we were dating, but I
had never dared ask him outright if we were a couple couple. Hearing him say he was my boyfriend caused my lips to stretch into the biggest grin I could muster.

  My dad looked at Jordan's hand, outstretched in front of him. Then he looked up at my boyfriend. I saw my father taking in the eyebrow ring and the buzzed head. The leather jacket and motorcycle helmet and realizing his daughter was dating every single thing he hated.

  But manners won out and my father shook Jordan's hand. Jordan turned his attention to my mother, who was still reeling from the shock that this was her Maysie's boyfriend. Jordan gave me a troubled look before sliding into the booth beside me.

  He rested his hand on my thigh and gave me a comforting squeeze. It was all going to be okay. Jordan was here.

  Things were awkward. We put in our orders with the waitress and got our drinks. I waited on pins and needles, wondering when my dad would start grilling Jordan. I could tell Jordan was uncomfortable but he was trying really hard to carry a conversation with my parents. And I loved him for his efforts.

  “So, Jordan. What are you studying in school?” my dad asked, taking a long drink of his water while watching him over the rim of his glass. The rest of us were just starting to dig into the food that had just arrived. I was poised to take a bite of my chicken Caesar salad, but immediately lost my appetite when I realized the interrogation had commenced.

  Jordan took a bite of his burger and wiped his mouth. “Accounting, sir,” he replied. His answer seemed to shock the hell out of my dad. His eyes widened marginally.

  “Accounting. Really? That's a respectable career path,” my father acknowledged grudgingly.

  Ha, take that Dad! I wanted to shout. That's what you get for making your hateful assumptions. I tried not to smirk. “Yeah, my dad has his own accounting firm up near the city and he'd really like me to come on as a partner after I graduate.” My dad was even more impressed by this. But I could hear the mostly concealed wistfulness in Jordan's voice.

  “That sounds wonderful, doesn't it Dan? It's nice to see Maysie spending time with someone who has such wonderful life goals,” my mother piped in, seeming relieved that this tatted up bad boy was actually a worthwhile human being. As though becoming an accountant made you a productive member of society or something.

  I started to relax, thinking this wouldn't be so bad when Jordan spoke again. “But what I'd really like to do is play music,” he said. My dad, who was actually looking...not happy, but something less than brutally disappointed, frowned.

  “Play music? Whatever for?” he scoffed as though that were the most ridiculous notion he had ever heard. My mom gave a nervous giggle. Jordan stiffened a bit and I gripped his hand under the table, trying to tell him through my fingers to give it up. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have with my dad. Not when things were actually going kind of well.

  “I play drums in a band and I love it. I think it would be fantastic to do that for a living. To devote my time to something I'm passionate about, not just crunching numbers to help rich people get richer,” Jordan said.

  And there it was again. My dad's disapproval. Oh how I missed you.

  “Well, the likelihood of making any sort of living as a musician is highly unlikely. And what kind of life does that build for you and your future family? What kind of person willingly brings their children into contact with drugs and sex?” my father spat out. God, he sounded like an idiot. An ignorant idiot at that.

  Jordan started dragging his tongue ring across his bottom teeth. He was pissed but trying really hard to rein it in. I closed my eyes, wishing I was somewhere else. “You know, Jordan's mom runs her own chocolate shop. Mom, you love chocolate. Isn't that cool?” I broke in desperately. My dad and Jordan were engaged in some weird macho stare off and I had to stop this before it got really bad.

  My mom was equally as nervous so she made a show of being impressed with Mrs. Levitt's shop. She asked Jordan a million questions about the types of chocolates his mother imported. Jordan answered every question patiently and respectfully.

  “What time do we have to be at that sorority of yours?” my father asked, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. God, would he ever stop?

  “Uh, 6:00, I think,” I told him. My father clicked his tongue.

  “I'm not sure why you bother with all of that sorority nonsense. The Greek system is a ridiculous waste of time, wouldn't you agree, Jordan?” My father directed his question at my silent boyfriend. This was a test. And from his set jaw, I knew Jordan was about to fail miserably.

  Jordan took a drink of his soda and looked my dad in the eye. “Actually, sir. I'm in a fraternity myself. And while I think a lot of the Greek system can be a bit over the top, you can't deny the sense of community that comes with being in a sorority or fraternity,” he said evenly. Okay, I knew that was just to goad my dad, because Jordan had told me on more than one occasion that he had come to detest the Greek system.

  “You're in a fraternity? Oh, well that's interesting,” my mother offered. I thought my dad would keep up about the whole sorority thing, but thankfully, he let it rest. But that didn't mean he was finished with me.

  Our dessert had just been served when my dad went in for the kill. “We got your last check in the mail a few days ago. I'm not sure how you think you're going to pay off that credit card bill with the paltry amounts you're sending us. I can tell you one thing, young lady, we will not be bailing you out of this mess. We've bailed you out of enough in your life, and we refuse to do it anymore,” he said curtly. Bailed me out of what? I had always been a model kid. Hell, I wasn't given a choice. My father was seriously deluded.

  My face flamed red. I was embarrassed that Jordan had to witness this abject humiliation. I hung my head as though I were five years old again. I hated that I wasn't able to stand up for myself with him. But it was like he zapped any spine I had right out of me.

  Jordan lifted our interlaced hands to his mouth and kissed the back of my knuckles. I blinked in shock at his overt display of affection in front of my parents. He put my hand back in my lap and crumbled up his napkin and put it on the table.

  “Mr. Ardin, sir, I think you're being entirely unfair. Maysie works her ass off, at the same time she's in a sorority and has a full work load. She does ten times more than most college students. I think you need to recognize what she has done instead of telling her what she hasn't,” Jordan's voice was clipped and angry.

  My mouth fell open. So did my mom's. But my dad clenched his teeth and straightened his shoulders. “Excuse me, young man. But who are you to tell me what I can say to my own daughter? And how dare you talk to me with so little respect!” my father hissed out.

  Jordan looked down at me and his eyes softened. “You want to know who I am? I'm the guy who's crazy about your daughter. And when you can talk to Maysie with respect, then maybe you'll earn mine.” He leaned over and kissed me gently on the mouth. “I'm sorry, baby,” he whispered before getting to his feet.

  “Mr. Ardin, I apologize that this didn't go as well as it could have. But I hope next time I see you, we can spend the time talking about how amazing your daughter is rather than tearing her down.” His eyes bore into my father's and not once did he back down. Damn, I loved him. He turned to my mother. “Mrs. Ardin, it was a pleasure.” Looking at me again, he smiled. “I'll call you later,” he said quietly. Then he picked up his helmet from under the table and left.

  When Jordan was gone, my father sputtered and fumed. He went on and on about how disrespectful Jordan had been. My father didn't want me to have anything to do with him. That if that was the sort of person I chose to spend my time with, then I couldn't be trusted to make reasonable decisions and maybe college wasn't the place for me.

  My mom had finally come to my defense and told my father to settle down. I was more than a little surprised by that. But I knew for all of his shocking exterior, Jordan had charmed my mother.

  After lunch, I took my parents down town and they spent the afternoon going in
to the different shops. By the time we had to head over to the Chi Delta house, my father had simmered down and was his normal, unpleasant self.

  My dad had hated every minute of being at the sorority, but had dialed down his outright distaste. I had dreaded going there. But all of the sisters were on their best behavior. Not one nasty look was lobbed my way and several of them made a point to speak to my parents. Gracie was her perky, wonderful self and my dad actually liked her. By the time we left, my father had three glasses of wine and a belly full of pulled pork and potato salad. So he was feeling less combative. When they dropped me back off at my apartment, we agreed to meet in the morning for breakfast. My dad patted my back and told me goodnight. Nothing more, nothing less. Though I was just thankful he hadn't used the opportunity to make any last personal digs.

  My mom gave me a hug. “I like Jordan. I think you did well, Maysie,” she whispered quietly before pulling away. I couldn't help but grin.