appraising look of his
that had always made me so uncomfortable. And so angry. He could end this
charade now, if he wanted to. He could get rid of Tommy just like
that—I’d seen him do it with uninvited fans and unwelcome
salesmen—and that’s all Tommy was: my uninvited fan, my unwelcome
salesman. My father had no patience with things interrupting his day, unless
they were carefully planned interruptions. It had never been that easy for me,
getting rid of what got in the way.
“Then you’ll have to stay for dinner,” my father said.
Of course it was a test, like hundreds of other tests he’d
concocted for me since I was a little girl. But I wasn’t a little girl anymore,
and he had no business. The three of us shared an awkward meal of stew and
biscuits during which my father asked simple, straightforward questions, and Tommy
provided elaborate, self-aggrandizing answers, much more than was needed for
the conversation at hand.
“So you think you might like to settle down around here?” he asked
Tommy, but looking at me, measuring my reaction. I made myself lock eyes with
him, attempting to show no emotional involvement whatsoever, and naturally,
failing.
“Well, I’m seriously considering it, sir,” Tommy said, his mouth
full of biscuit. Then he looked up at my father with these big, brown,
puppy-dog eyes, his “sincere” look, and I cringed. You can’t seduce my father,
you idiot, I thought. “I’ve always believed that change was good, you know?
Without change, things would just stay the same all the time, and that can’t be
good, can it? Unless what you had before was so good you’d be a fool to change.
You know what I’m getting at?”
My father stared at Tommy silently for a moment, then said, “Yes,
Tommy. Yes, I believe I know exactly what you’re ‘getting at.’”
“I know you’re a smart man, successful and all. I just want you to
know how much I respect you, and of course, respect your daughter. I know she
and I have had our differences of late, and I want you to know I realize that
was completely my fault. I take full responsibility, and I intend to make up
for every disrespectful thing I did in regards to her. Of course, she’s a
little stubborn.” Tommy glanced at me, making a stupid little, insincere smile.
It was an incredibly awkward moment. When no one reacted, Tommy went on. “And
that’s a good thing, a sign of character, is the way my saintly grandmother
would have put it. I certainly wouldn’t want to change that. I just wanted to
ask you sir, as a man of the world, a great artist, a successful man, if you
think there might be a place for one such as myself, out here in all this beautiful
country? It’s such a rare opportunity, my getting to meet such a great man as
yourself, I hope you don’t mind, I just couldn’t pass up a chance to get your
valuable advice.”
My father turned and looked at me, smiled. He waited, obviously
wanting me to say something, but I wasn’t about to open my mouth. He turned
back to Tommy. “I believe, Tommy,” he said, “that there is a place, and a
function, for everyone. There’s an old bunkhouse behind the house. It’s not
much, but it is shelter, and I’ve always found it, peaceful. Feel free to stay
there until you find your own place, your own function.” He looked at me again,
not smiling. “My daughter will show you the way.” I thought I was going to
scream, but I didn’t even open my mouth.
I remember walking fast through the weeds and cacti, angry, out of
breath, hoping to discourage Tommy from saying anything. He stumbled at my
heels, and that gave me great satisfaction. “Hey…” I ignored him.
I didn’t know who I was angrier at: this creep Tommy, for coming
here, playing his old numbers in a place where no one was going to be fooled by
his playing, or my dad, punishing me for not taking a stand, treating me like a
school girl in need of basic training. And, as much as I couldn’t stand Tommy,
I