Hello Loved Ones

by Tammy Letherer

  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?”

  “Good. A little overwhelming.”

  “You look marvelous. Really happy.”

  Of course she was happy. This was what she’d wanted. She had her dad at her side. Her best friend too. Maybe even a boyfriend waiting in the wings. Who could say? The banquet was supposed to be about dating. Now that she was experienced, she had reason to pay attention tonight.

  The tables were arranged in two long lines, and they chose seats at the end, near the back wall, across from Frannie and her dad. Richard made a big deal out of pulling Sally’s chair back.

  “Allow me,” he said.

  He had charm all right. Enough to fill a bowl. She’d collect it all and bring it out later, when she was alone. Munch on it piece by piece.

  “Valkema,” Richard said to Frannie’s dad as he sat down. “You connected with the Valkemas in Traverse City?”

  “I don’t believe so,” said Frannie’s dad. “Do you …travel up there often?” Sally thought he was going to say live up there, but Mr. Valkema was kind enough to know better. There was something awkward about acknowledging that Richard had been gone so long.

  “My work takes me all over,” Richard said.

  “What line are you in?”

  “Salesman, through and through. Used to work for the paper mill in Muskegon. I was their top man in raw materials for a while. Good pay, but I couldn’t stand the smell. It gets in your hair, your clothes, everything.”

  It was just so normal then, with a capital N, listening to the two men talk. Sally could almost believe she’d been doing this for years. By the end of the night she’d be rolling her eyes and saying Dad! all exasperated-like while they went on and on with their man talk. The weather, car parts, layoffs, union strikes, home repairs, the price of gas. Outwardly she’d be slouchy bored, but her insides would be on the edge of her seat, taking in every word. Her dad was just one of the guys, and sitting here with him, like this, she was just another kid. She breathed a silent prayer of thanks that her dad was so chatty and easy to be with. And that Frannie’s dad was sweet enough to treat him like anyone else.

  It wasn’t until she saw Pastor Voss working his way down the table, shaking hands, that she felt uneasy. Peckerwood greets deadbeat dad. What would happen?

  Her dad stood and extended his hand. “It’s such a pleasure to be here,” he said. “This is really a wonderful event you’ve got here.”

  “Thank you.” Pastor Voss looked surprised too.

  “We are definitely enjoying ourselves. No doubt about it. Aren’t we, Sally?”

  She nodded. What was with the Mr. Jolly routine?

  “I thought you couldn’t stand him,” she said, when the pastor had moved on.

  “He knows how I feel about him.”

  “So why were you nice to him?”

  He sighed patiently. “It’s called playing the game.”

  She considered this. “You’re not playing a game with me, are you?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  It was a silly thought, but if he could so easily fake it with the pastor, could he be faking it with her too? Was he was only pretending to like her? Was he suffering through this night out of a sense of obligation? She would hate that.
She’d rather she’d never met him than to have him smiling and laughing the way he was and then rolling his eyes and shaking his head when he was alone.

  He must have seen her worried look because he put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a warm squeeze that chased away her doubts. Such casual affection! No wonder he didn’t fit with her family. He was a whole different species.

  “Here comes Nell,” he said, nodding toward the kitchen. “She doesn’t look happy.”

  It was true. By the look on her face, you’d think someone had died. When she walked by their table Sally reached out to stop her.

  “What’s wrong?” Not that she really wanted to know. She didn’t want Nell spoiling her night with her usual list of complaints.

  “Pull up a chair,” Richard said. “Tell us why you look so down.”

  Nell sniffed. “I just came to make sure everything looks good. The way I planned it.” She looked at their place settings and nodded as if she was very satisfied.

  “Well,” Richard said, “what happened? Somebody burn the meatloaf?”

  Nell didn’t laugh but Sally did. They obviously shared a sense of humor. When Nell didn’t answer, Richard jabbed Sally’s shoulder.

  “Better not tease her. She’s liable to go hotwire ol’ Peckerwood’s car.”

  Nell’s eyebrows buckled from some internal tremor. She turned abruptly and walked away.

  “You know, you might want to watch what you say,” Sally said. “She’s…” How to explain Nell to a guy like him? She didn’t want to make her sound stodgy. “Well, she’s sensitive about people thinking she’s done something wrong.” It didn’t come close. All it did was remind her how little their dad knew them.

  “Thanks for the advice,” he said, sounding not at all grateful. He chewed his lip a moment.

  “What is it about women, anyway, always trying to improve a guy? Now if Nell had invited me tonight, no way. I can see she knows how to turn the screws. I never expected it of you. Christ! You’re only 16.”

  Sally hoped no one had heard. “No one’s trying to turn the screws,” she said quietly. “Whatever that means.”

  “Is it my fault she walks away? She can’t take a joke.”

  Sally sighed. This was like walking into history class and seeing the homework assignment on the board: pages 200 through 275. So much to do! On top of everything else, how would she ever manage? Because it wasn’t just her own relationship with her father that mattered. She’d need to fix the whole family, and the thought was pure exhaustion.

  “Here comes our dinner,” he said. What his tone said was let’s get this over with. The boys were coming forward with trays and pitchers of water and the girls started tittering. Predictable. And annoying. Although it was cute the way they hammed it up, setting the plates down with a flourish and a bow. Someone turned on the music. The candles cast a lovely glow. After dinner there would be dancing. This was still her night. She made herself smile as Roy and Stanley set plates before them. Baked chicken. Mashed potatoes. Green beans with slivered almonds and a big fluffy dinner roll. She picked up her knife and fork and daintily sawed into a breast. Her father was already chewing. And making a face.

  “What’s the matter?”

  He set his fork down. “It’s dry.”

  He’d been gone too long. Too long away from teenage girls with sensitive feelings, and small town events, and knowing what it was like to have your whole life in one room.

  “Hey Stanley!” he called. “You think you could bring this back to the kitchen and try to find me something that doesn’t taste like a piece of firewood?”

  Sally froze. So did Frannie and Mr. Valkema. Everyone at their table had their ears on hyper-alert, listening. Sally wanted to slide under the table.

  “You want me to throw it out?” Stanley asked.

  “Unless you have a starving dog back there, yes.” Richard handed him his plate.

  “You want another piece?”

  “Something different please.”

  “They don’t have anything different,” Sally mumbled. Somewhere along the way had he failed to notice they were in a church basement?

  Richard smiled at Stanley. “I’m sure he’ll find something, won’t you?”

  “Yes sir.” Stanley took his plate away.

  “Even a free meal should be edible.”

  “It’s not free,” Sally said miserably. “Mom paid for the tickets.”

  Richard sighed. “You want the finer things in life, you have to ask. Don’t settle for second best.”

  “What do you know about the finer things?” she snapped. With his missing teeth and dented head. Living in a migrant shack, hanging out in bars—these were the finer things?

  Richard was smiling after Stanley. “I like that kid. He’s okay. Why don’t you date him?”

  Like she could just decide and have anything she wanted. If she could do that, she wouldn’t be having this oh, no, oh please, please no! feeling. She’d be sitting where Frannie was, Miss Sally Valkema, beaming at her dad while he picked chicken from his teeth. Loving everything about him. Here she’d been so afraid of her dad coming across as not good enough, she’d never expected him to act like he was too good for everything. She never expected this arrogance.

  What exactly did you expect, you idiot? That your brother and sister are completely nuts? That they talk trash about him because for some twisted reason they enjoy being fatherless? And your mother, what’s her angle? Is she addicted to working 12 hours a day? Proud of being called a divorcee?

  She shook her head, remembering the hug she had shared with her dad. That hug said it all. It reminded her of their bond. Face it, she was better than her family! Uncontaminated. Open-minded. Modern. She could make this work.

  “Ladies and gentlemen!” Pastor Voss stood beside a podium on a little riser, with a microphone in his hand. The lights came up.

  “Welcome to the Twenty-Seventh Annual Father Daughter Banquet. While we enjoy this wonderful meal, I’d like to say a few words.” He held up one hand. “I promise to be brief.”

  No. Take your time. She could sit through hours of his drivel now, as long as it took the spotlight off her and her dad. Everyone would make fun of the way he’d sent the food back. She stole a look at Frannie, who smiled and gave a little shrug that said welcome to the club. That’s right. Other kids were always griping about how their parents embarrassed them. It was even kind of funny, when you thought about it. So when Stanley returned with a plate without chicken, just extra potatoes and beans and another roll, Sally tried to give him the same elegant shrug. You know how dads are. He actually winked at her! In less than two weeks she’d had her first kiss and been winked at, by two different boys. She wasn’t an outcast. She was just in the club.

  “Girls, as you know,” said the pastor, “you are here because you have reached an important new phase in your life. You stand on the brink of womanhood, a time of new opportunities, as well as greater responsibility.

  “Many of you look forward to dating, and this can be an exciting time in your life. It can also be a confusing time, filled with heartache and temptation. Above all, it’s a time to rely on your relationship with the Lord.”

  Maybe she wasn’t relying enough on the Lord. Where was her gratitude that her dad was even here at all? God loved her father, and so did she. Thank you, God! Thank you for my dad!

  “I would encourage you, young ladies, to be particular in your choice of young men. What qualities will you look for in a potential mate?”

  Why couldn’t he just say boyfriend? Were they supposed to be thinking about marriage already?

  “You might ask yourself, is he responsible?”

  Cash? She didn’t know.

  “Does he hold a job?”

  Yes.

  “Is he serious about his schooling?”

  No idea.

  “Does he show respect to teachers or other authority figures?”

  She doubted it.

  “Does he atte
nd church regularly?”

  Probably not.

  “And finally, does he respect your virtue?”

  That one made her squirm. She looked at her dad and he patted her knee. We’ll sort all this out, the pat said. I’m here now.

  Pastor Voss continued. “We see in the papers every day stories of lost youth. In San Francisco and New York, young people are seeking love without standards. Society has ruined our understanding of love. It preaches the opposite of love, which is selfishness. It tells us that it’s all right to pursue anything that feels good. But whatever causes us to sacrifice our morals is not love. Real love is like God, holy and perfect.”

  Though Sally was in the back of the room, the pastor seemed to be looking right at her. As if she were the one running around with a zillion boys. He ought to be directing his comments at Patty Ann.

  “The gospel of Samuel reminds us that love is patient. Lust requires immediate satisfaction. Love is kind, lust is harsh. Love does not demand its own way, lust does. Lust may feel like love at first, but when physically expressed, it results in self-disgust and hatred of the other person.”

  Did that explain Cash’s behavior the day he dropped her off? Was he disgusted with himself for kissing her? This dating business was all so confusing, not to mention embarrassing. Did the other girls feel funny listening to this with their dads? Or was it only hard for her because her dad was practically a stranger?

  “For yourself,” he went on, “you must possess purity, a commitment to home and family, and devotion to the Lord. And fathers, in these unruly times, it is your job to guide your daughters through the temptations and pitfalls of this age, to help them recognize good character and Christian values, especially in their dating partners.”

  Sally glanced at her dad. He rolled his eyes and smiled.

  “Fathers, it is your job to set the rules, to enforce those rules, and to make sure your daughter chooses young men who will meet the standards of your family. You are to be her example. Through your own marriage you teach your daughter what she should seek in a mate.”

  Sally winced. Couldn’t the pastor be more sensitive to the fact that not everyone here was Ward Cleaver? She leaned back, ready to shoot her dad another loving glance and maybe another roll of the eyes. What she saw made her gasp. Richard had a small silver flask in his hand, and he was hastily splashing a clear liquid into his fruit punch.