by Karis Walsh
Even sitting at this dinner without Jan was painful. Every conversation seemed to bring her sharply to Tina’s mind. She was seated between Peter and Chloe, and Tina recognized their attempt to shield her from her grandmother, but being with the two of them reminded Tina of the night they first met. And when they started talking about the time they all went to Coeur d’Alene, Tina couldn’t clearly recall the actual trip, just her late-night reenactment with Jan. All her traitorous mind would dredge up were memories of Jan standing behind her, whispering Tina’s fantasies in her ear. Jan’s arms around her, touching and exploring. Jan on her knees, making Tina lose her mind.
Somehow, she managed to eat enough to be polite. She appreciated the casual, picnic-style meal, so different from the more formal holiday dinners she remembered. Still, she felt anxious for the evening to end, for the chance to go back to the apartment and be alone. Unfortunately, a quick getaway didn’t seem to be possible.
“How about some music?” Peter suggested after they had gorged on cake. Tina had surprised herself by eating two large pieces. She had expected the childhood associations of the smell and taste of the cake to remind her of bad times, but instead, there was a comforting familiarity about it.
“I’ll take care of the dishes,” Chloe suggested. “The rest of you can get ready to play.”
Tina licked the last bit of cream-cheese frosting off her fork, and then she offered to help Chloe stack plates and carry them to the kitchen.
“How is…” Tina wanted to ask about Jan once she and Chloe were alone, but she stopped herself. “School?” she finished.
Chloe shrugged. “She seems okay, but you know she doesn’t share a lot of what she’s feeling. To be honest, she looks very worn-out, but it might just be worry about her dad.”
Tina rinsed a plate and handed it to Chloe to stack in the dishwasher. “I didn’t ask—”
“Oh, sorry, I misunderstood,” Chloe said with a smile as she busied herself rearranging plates. “School’s fine. So, did you bring the electric violin you played at O’Boyle’s? The one Jan called…oops, never mind. I’m sure you don’t want to hear that, either.”
Tina hastily dried her hands on a towel and chased after Chloe. She caught her by the elbow before she made it to the living room. “What did she say about my fiddle?”
“She said it was painted fuck-me red,” Chloe whispered before pulling her arm free and leaving a stunned Tina in the doorway. Great. How could she possibly concentrate on playing now?
She went into the room. Nick was at the piano, playing scales as a warm-up, while Miriam polished her clarinet with a yellow cloth. Peter had set up Tina’s amp but had wisely left her violin alone. She took out her glossy red fiddle and attached her shoulder rest, ignoring Chloe’s smug smile. More pictures of Jan crowded into Tina’s mind. At the pub, by the pool table. Tina doubted she could even play a simple C major scale if asked.
“If I’d been thinking, I’d have suggested we prepare the Bartók trio,” Nick said, twisting away from the piano to face Miriam. “It was always his…a favorite.”
He cleared his throat and turned back to his scales too quickly. Tina saw her grandmother stiffen. “I think I’ll lie down for a bit,” Francine said, leaving the room without another word.
Tina sighed. The room was getting awfully crowded with people who weren’t there. Too many memories, too many unspoken thoughts. So much for a fun family music session. Of course, Tina’s family wasn’t exactly known for lighthearted parties.
Miriam seemed just as aware of the awkward atmosphere. “No sense pretending you don’t miss your brother,” she said to Nick. “We all do. So let’s honor him first, and then we can move forward. Play ‘Danny Boy.’”
Oh God. Tina didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to play it. Her dad and grandfather had loved the simple song, had played it together hundreds of times. She had to get out of the room, out of the house, even if it meant leaving her violin behind. Peter reached across the sofa and put his hand on her arm. Damn him. How many times in the past weeks had he kept her from running away? Made her stay and share her grief, her pain, her anger, instead of going off to handle it on her own?
She sat, unmoving, while Nick played the first verse. Then, as if in a trance, she brought her fiddle to her shoulder and quietly joined him with a descant, playing an improvised embellished version of the melody an octave above the piano’s voice. Miriam and Peter stayed silent while Tina and Nick played through the third verse before ending the song.
With his customary tact, Peter eventually broke the silence by strumming an opening chord on his mandolin and starting to play “Scarborough Fair.” Tina smiled. Something simple and familiar, to ease the tension and move them forward. Tina picked up her violin again and played along. Somewhere in the middle of the string of English tunes, her grandmother reentered the room. Tina wondered if she had been out of earshot, or if she had just needed privacy while she listened. She shrugged off the question and focused on the music.
“One more song,” Nick said eventually, barely stifling a yawn. “Tina, you pick this time.”
She thought for a moment and then smiled as she started playing in the harmonic minor of a Romany tune her grandfather had taught her. She had loved to hear him play Gypsy songs, with their rapidly increasing speeds.
“I sense a challenge,” Nick said as he joined in the slow refrain. On the second play through, Tina doubled her tempo.
Miriam dropped out after the first increase in speed, and Nick made it partway through the second. Tina and Peter battled it out for another round. She had to drop her grace notes and trills, sticking with the straightforward melody in her effort to play faster. Peter made it nearly to the end of the fourth round, but he hit a sour note and threw up his hands in surrender.
Tina, playing alone, finished the song with a flourish. She laughed at Peter’s expression. She had won tonight, but she knew she’d better be prepared the next time. He didn’t have the expression of a good loser.
“I need to practice my fingering so I can beat you,” he said. “I want a rematch at Mom’s birthday party.”
“You’re on,” Tina said with a laugh before she realized what she had promised. Miriam’s birthday was in September. Well, maybe she could manage to visit on occasion. If it didn’t hurt too much to be close to Jan and not see her.
She busied herself with packing up her instrument, to keep her thoughts off a probable future without Jan in it, and stood to leave. She hugged her aunt and uncle, and finally turned to her grandmother.
“’Bye,” Tina said, intending to keep her good-bye as quick and painless as possible. Her grandmother put her hand on Tina’s elbow before she could escape.
“You play just like him,” Francine said. “Like your father.”
“Thank you,” Tina said, surprised by what she recognized as a compliment and embarrassed as the rest of the family watched the exchange.
“Do you still have his violin?”
“It’s at home,” Tina answered, feeling her defenses rising again. She had the ridiculous idea her grandmother might try to get the violin back, but Tina would never let it go. She loved her fancy electric fiddle, but the acoustic instrument, her heirloom, was precious to her. “I left it with a friend for safekeeping since I didn’t know where I’d be staying. I didn’t want to risk damaging it.” She stopped, aware that she was giving too detailed an answer to a simple question.
“I would like to hear you play it sometime,” Francine said before she turned and walked away.
“I guess my audience with the queen is over,” Tina muttered under her breath. Peter laughed gently as he picked up her amp and walked with her to the door.
“See? No shouting,” he said.
“Dear diary…” she said dramatically. “Seriously, Peter, it was okay, but I can’t even call it a good start. Grandmother and I will probably never be more comfortable around each other than this.”
He shrugged and put his arm over
her shoulders. “This is enough. Civility. As long as it gives you a chance to be closer to me, to Mom and Dad.”
Tina couldn’t argue. She had enjoyed spending time with the rest of the family. Free from some of the resentment she had carried so long.
“I’m glad you came,” Peter continued as he helped her stow her gear in the car. “And thanks for my present. It’s beautiful, and it sure was comfortable while I was playing.”
Tina smiled. She and Jan had spent an hour searching for a gift for him at the bluegrass festival, finally discovering a colorful handwoven mandolin strap.
“Jan picked it out,” she admitted. She looked down at the keys in her hand. Even saying Jan’s name hit her hard, like the word itself had taste and texture.
Peter cleared his throat. “Um, I know the two of you are…well, I don’t know exactly, but…” He hesitated and started over. “I’m taking Chloe back to the Peacock Room Saturday night. I’d like it if you and Jan could meet us there around seven.”
“Oh, gee, thanks, but I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Tina said. She wasn’t sure how much Peter really knew about her aborted relationship with Jan, but with his sense of decorum he had to recognize her discomfort.
He took her hand in both of his. “I get it,” he said. “But if it hadn’t been for the two of you, we’d never have met. I hope it’s going to be a special night, and it would mean a lot to me if you were there.”
Tina didn’t want to remind him that the only reason he and Chloe had been invited on the original date was because she and Jan hadn’t wanted to be alone together. Only fitting, they had come full circle and still didn’t want to be around each other. But she heard the meaning behind his invitation.
“Sure. We’ll be there. I have to deliver a project I did for her, so I’ll ask then.” She smiled and punched him lightly on the arm. “I’m guessing we’re keeping this a secret from Chloe.”
He grinned back, and she knew he was blushing even though it was too dark to see. “I’d prefer it to be a surprise.”
Tina opened her car door and climbed in. “She won’t hear a word from me. Good night, Peter. And happy birthday.”
Chapter Sixteen
Jan opened the door and found Tina on her porch. Damn. Just one glimpse of her, and Jan’s fantasies intruded on reality again. Night after night, Jan had imagined Tina coming by, pushing the door open and taking Jan in her arms, leading her upstairs and taking her to bed. Unfortunately, the live version of Tina, propped casually against the porch railing, didn’t seem inclined to act out any of Jan’s imagined scenarios.
“Hi,” Jan said. Not exactly the stuff of passionate fantasies. But it was as much as she could manage. She wasn’t sure how to talk to Tina in the light of day. She wanted her still—more than ever—but she refused to even consider a relationship with her beyond their one night together. She had made the right decision, hadn’t she? If so, then why couldn’t she forget about her and move on?
“Hi yourself,” Tina said with a smile. She looked tired, but so did Jan. At least, everyone she knew kept telling her so.
“No, I can’t stay,” Tina said when Jan tried to wave her inside. Jan stepped onto the porch and pulled the door shut behind her, leaning back against it. “I just came by to give you this,” Tina continued, handing Jan a small folder. “It’s your dad’s video.”
“Oh, thank you,” Jan said, curious to see the finished product, even though it meant Tina was one step closer to leaving Spokane for good. All for the best. Maybe once she was across the Cascades, Jan could forget about her. Still, she couldn’t stop her perverse attempts to make Tina stay. “Don’t you want to watch it with us? I mean, because Dad would want you to.”
“I think it’s something just the two of you should share,” Tina said. “Because it’s a father-daughter thing, not because I don’t want to be around him. Or you.”
“I’ll…I’ll let you know how he likes it,” Jan said.
“Tomorrow night?” Tina asked.
“Sure, I guess I can call you then,” Jan said, confused by the request.
Tina shook her head. “Peter wants us to meet him and Chloe for a drink at the Peacock Room tomorrow night. I tried to get us out of it, but it’s supposed to be sort of a special night. And a secret one, so don’t mention it to Chloe.”
“The same Chloe who’s been reading bridal magazines all week?” Jan asked. Tina laughed and Jan joined in. She had missed the sound of Tina’s laughter. “Well, she won’t hear about it from me.”
“We’ll let poor Peter think he’s fooled us all,” Tina said. “So, about seven? I’ll see you there?”
“Sure, I suppose. Although I’m surprised you’d even want to be in the same room as a marriage proposal. Aren’t you afraid some of that commitment might rub off?”
“Actually, no,” Tina said with a shrug. “He seems happy. And, you know, my reluctance to be in a committed relationship is no different from you saying you’ll find one at some unspecified future date. We’re both afraid of the same thing. You might have set a pretend date for your chance at love, but you’re every bit as determined to avoid it as I’ve been.”
Tina turned and walked down the steps. Jan could only stare after her, her mouth open but no words of rebuttal expressed. Ridiculous. Of course she wasn’t afraid of finding someone and settling down. It’s what she’d always dreamed of. As soon as she had her home and life with her dad in order. And as soon as she could be certain nothing would change and no one would leave and hurt her ever again. Admittedly, her dream didn’t seem to match reality—with its alarming lack of guarantees—but it was a safe dream to have.
Tina paused halfway down the walk and turned to face Jan again. “Oh, by the way,” she said, “tomorrow night will give us a chance to talk about your dad’s apartment, too. If he’s going to be staying here with you, I wouldn’t mind subletting long term. My Uncle Nick has some potential jobs lined up for me, and I thought I might stay in Spokane a little longer.”
She left without waiting for an answer. Jan held the DVD folder against her chest as she watched Tina drive away. She sighed and went into the house. Right now, she needed to spend some time reliving the past. Because the future suddenly seemed gloriously terrifying, and much closer than she had anticipated.
*
“I smell popcorn,” Glen said as he came into the kitchen.
“I have a video for us to watch. Tina made it,” Jan added. She handed her dad a can of Coke and carried her drink and the popcorn out to the living room.
“Isn’t she here to watch it with us?” he asked.
“She couldn’t stay,” Jan said, avoiding his eyes. Jan knew he was aware of her jumbled feelings about Tina, even though he had carefully avoided mentioning her until now. He was giving her time to work through her problems and being as quietly supportive as he always had been. She had eaten so many blueberry pancakes in the past week, she worried she might turn purple.
Once they were settled on the couch, Jan started the movie. She had the odd, disconnected feeling of watching the actual film while simultaneously imagining Tina editing it. She loved the thought of Tina thinking and planning and creating, the intense look on her face when she was wrestling an idea into the shape she wanted. The opening shot was a video clip of an F-15 performing a midair refueling behind a KC-135. The United States Air Force song played in the background. Jan knew this wasn’t her dad’s footage. Tina had done the research and found the right planes, the right song, to grab the attention of her audience. Jan felt her eyes well up a little at the guilty thought of her dad giving up his chance to fly the plane he really loved. Just for her. But when she glanced over at him, he was smiling without a trace of sadness.
“What a sight, isn’t it? I can’t believe Tina did this, the same woman who thought that one airplane taking off at Felts was four different ones,” he said with a laugh, reaching for a handful of popcorn. “She’s amazing. I mean, only if you think so, too,” he added with a fath
erly pat on her knee. “You know where my loyalties lie.”
Jan laughed. “She is something special,” she said. She took a drink of her pop and watched a montage of her dad moving through the ranks in his military career. She recognized some of the marches and some themes from war movies on Tina’s soundtrack, most of them from her dad’s collection. Tina had added some of her own selections as well, and the theme of the music matched the emotions in the photos perfectly.
After the initial career section, the rest of the DVD consisted of photos of Jan and her dad, or Jan alone. Tina had arranged them thematically, and Jan watched as a series of birthday parties, then school science projects, then pink bedrooms unfolded on the screen. The background music reflected the changes in setting, varying to represent different states and countries, but Tina had captured the constancy of the images themselves.
When the video ended, Jan and her dad sat in silence, their Cokes warm and most of the popcorn uneaten. Jan felt vulnerable, exposed, grateful, seen. Tina had captured her essence, the core elements of her life that remained consistent, even though the settings changed. School, learning, animals, exploration, art.
“It was supposed to be all about your life,” Jan said finally, embarrassed to have been the center of the movie, to have been understood so deeply by Tina.
“It was,” Glen said, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Tina got it exactly right.”
“She did, didn’t she,” Jan agreed softly. She turned and buried her face in her dad’s shoulder.
She felt him sigh. “Such beautiful memories.” He paused and continued in a quiet voice. “I don’t want to lose them.”
And I don’t want to lose you. But she couldn’t say it out loud. “I know,” she said instead.
Only when he hugged her tighter did she realize she was crying. Tina’s sequential themes kept playing through Jan’s mind. She had spent her life focused on the things she lacked—one house, one city, one set of friends. She hadn’t really started to appreciate the richness of all she did have until she was threatened with its loss. But Tina had done more than simply show Jan a new way to look at her life—she had become a part of that life. Jan had been holding on to a cookie-cutter vision of the perfect home, family, and love, but Tina had shown her how much more vivid and wonderful the real thing could be. Messy and unpredictable. Passionate and loving. Filled with laughter and set to music.