Chapter 8: Mr. Dawes

“Gail didn’t do you justice, Connie, you are awfully pretty.”

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Dawes. I have to ruin the illusion, though, because I am completely incompetent without my glasses. Right now, to me my boyfriend’s dad is a pinkish shape with a warm deep voice.

“Ah, there you are. I see where Jim gets his looks from.”

“Please, call me Allen. And he’s inherited more from me than just that face.”

“Mission Accomplished! She assumes I’m referring to his big penis. Her suppressed reactions tell me they’re having sex, for sure. She’s really trying to stay calm, but it’s an obvious tell. I’ll give her some relief now.”

“Yeah, Jimmy also is getting that singing voice. I hear him from all the way in the kitchen when he’s taking a shower. Like he’s Johnny Cash or something.”

“That worked, she’s relaxed a little.”

“Please, make yourself comfortable. Can I get you something? Let’s see, I have bottled water, Starry (it’s like Sprite), Pepsi, Cocoa, Coffee, Chablis, Merlot, Tequila, Bourbon, Vodka, Sativa or Indica, Crystal Meth...”

“STOP!” Connie was laughing hard. Jim shifted from shocked to aggrieved.

“Dad, shut up! Connie is...”

Referring to herself, “Connie is NOT drinking and driving. And she’s 18, not 21. But for future reference, the preferred cannabis strain is...”

“Connie! Dad, she doesn’t smoke, smoke anything...”

“Relax, son, I’m just teasing. Look at her turning red, she’s adorable. Seriously, what can I get you?”

“I’ve never had Starry, I’ll try that.”

“Sure, and I’ll get a Pepsi for Jim.”

Allen returned, ostentatiously presenting them with their drinks in tall classes with ice cubes.

“For tonight, I’ve prepared a puréed legume spread with a raspberry relish reduction presented on a sectioned leavened loaf.”

“I don’t think I was expecting peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Allen.”

“Father, would you do me the infinite kindness of restraining your pretentious performances for a brief interval? Or perhaps I should more imperatively express my reservations.

“Dad, shut the fuck up!”

It was the wrong moment for Connie to be swallowing. Jim put his arm around her and waited for her to stop coughing.

“What have I gotten myself into? Can we just, I don’t know, talk about the weather?”

“Why, yes, Connie. The ‘name of sports team’ that Jim and I follow are going to perform well, I believe, next weekend, in spite of the predicted rainy weather.”

Allen actually used the words ‘name of sports team’ just to tease a little more.

“I see. Since I don’t aspire to elevate my discourse ... Aw, fuck it. See you around, Jim.”

Appearing exasperated, Connie stood up and reached for her bag.

“Connie? I’m sorry, stay, please. Dad?”

Secretly, Connie enjoyed the bantering, so different from her home experiences. She let Jim twist for a few beats, then abruptly bent over and kissed him, sweetly.

“It’s alright, Jim. Allen is crazy, but I’m experienced with crazy parenting. I’m going to go wash up for dinner and let you finish your vocabulary wars.

“And, Allen, when I come back, if I see a PB&J you are going to be wearing it.”

“I think she means it, Dad.”

They enjoyed a delicious (delivered) meal with a lively flow of friendly conversation. Allen asked a lot of pointed and calculated questions, but in a friendly and warm way that kept both Connie and Jim feeling comfortable.

But then Allen put on a serious expression and turned to face directly at Connie.

“This is the point in the evening where the father must inquire. To the older suitor of his precious tender offspring, “What are your intentions towards my daughter?” Or in this case, son.

“Well, now that you mention it, I want to begin having Jim stay for sleepovers. Stay in my bed, to be honest about it.”

Connie took off her eyeglasses and tried fixing Allen with her most winning smile. She couldn’t see that Allen’s response was to glower at her. Jim stared at them, alarmed. As the silence became increasingly uncomfortable, she put her glasses back on revealing his dour expression.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I just thought, well, you seemed to be liking me. I just, well, Jim is ... I’ll be going, then. Thank you for dinner. Jim, call me when you can.”

“Connie, you should stay and listen to what I have to say. Sit down, please. And don’t fiddle with your glasses, being half blind doesn’t make you more beautiful. Not in Jim’s eyes, not in mine.”