“Hello to you too, father dear,” I said. “That was Brenda Ford, the director’s wife.”
“What happened to Justin?”
“He wasn’t called to rehearse tonight.”
“Your mother says you’re going to a dance with him, and that he comes from a very fine family.”
“Yes I am, yes he is, and I’m really tired—”
“And you’re staying away from Isaac Pearce, yes?” Dad’s eyes had darkened. “My coworker Gary’s daughter thought she saw you with him on Saturday.”
“Well Gary’s daughter needs to mind her own damn business, doesn’t she?”
My father put his hands on his hips. “I meant what I said about Isaac. I don’t want you associating with the one boy in the entire town with a reputation like that.”
Words rose up in my mouth like bile. I wanted to spit them at my father. Tell him he could take his pretend concern for me and shove it up his ass. It wasn’t concern for me, it was concern for his own reputation.
But I was seventeen. A minor. If my father told Martin I wasn’t allowed to do the play, Martin would have no choice but to kick me out.
“Well?” Dad asked. “Did you see Isaac or not?”
“No, my good lord,” I said, biting out the words. “But as you did command.”
Willow
The night of the dance arrived. My parents, thrilled I was making an effort at socializing, had a spread of hors d’oeuvres and sodas fit for twenty people instead of six. Our marble kitchen counters were laden with little sandwiches, chocolate covered hazelnuts and cherries. Even crackers and caviar.
“Caviar?” I said to Mom.
“Protein, darling.” She wore a frilly apron over her Chanel skirt and blouse, as if she cooked all this instead of ordering from a catering service.
“Are you serious?”
She sipped a glass of red wine. “I believe the words you’re looking for are thank you.”
I sighed, mumbled a thank you and went upstairs to put my dress on. I would’ve been more grateful if I knew she was doing this for my friends, not to keep up appearances.
Several hours later, Nash and Angie, Caroline and Jocelyn all arrived together.
“Safety in numbers,” Angie whispered as she hugged me. She gaped at the entry of our house. “Your foyer is bigger than my bedroom.”
As I predicted, she looked beautiful in her skating-style dress. Her hair fell in soft black curls around her shoulders and she’d affixed a choker around her neck with a red silk flower. Nash and Jocelyn both wore suits. Nash had a red bow tie and vest to match Angie’s flower. Jocelyn wore a pale blue tie and pocket square to match Caroline’s flowing blue dress.
Mom’s smile tightened when she swept into the foyer to greet my friends, her voice rising an octave as she demanded we huddle together to take a photo. My dad stood at the rear of the room, hands in his pockets, rocking back on his feet. His smile was stiffer than Mom’s.
“My parents are not evolved,” I said to Angie.
“A mixed-race couple and lesbians,” Angie whispered back with a giggle.
“It’s straining the limits of their tolerance.”
“They got to get woke, son.”
The doorbell rang. “Reinforcements,” I said.
As suspected, my parents were thrilled to meet Justin Baker. He arrived in the rented limousine and I had to admit, he looked pretty dashing in a black suit with a navy blue tie to match my dress. But his handsomeness was like that of a sleek car in a showroom. Nice to look at but I had zero interest in taking it for a spin.
Why am I doing this again?