Neighborhood Dad Ch. 17

It has been four months since I posted. I had a thumb injury, and I got out of the habit of writing.

And I admit I have been discouraged by the drop in readership.

I don't get paid a single penny for these chapters, so readership, comments and votes are all that keep me motivated.

More than 100K people clicked on Chap. 1. There were still 52K people interested right up until Henry and Randi had sex the first time. Since then readership has plunged.

Only 17,000 people clicked on Chap. 16. That's a drop of two-thirds since Chap. 6.

That says to me that fewer and fewer people care if I continue or not.

So maybe this is my last entry, maybe not.

*

As you can expect, the locker room was filled with sadness, but I reminded them that they had reached the equivalent of the Final Four in their division. That's the best finish the school had made since the 1960s.

Afterward, I pulled Paige aside and told her about Asheville. It did my heart good to see her perk up.

"When can we go visit?" she asked.

"The sooner the better, I think. If they are interested in you, let's give them a look before they up and sign somebody else."

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that."

"Beside, in about two weeks, my calendar gets crammed full of furniture work for a whole month. Then there's the prom, and we don't want to wait two months to get up there."

"I gotta go find Ricky," she said and started to leave the locker room.

"Whoa. How about you get cleaned up and changed first? He can wait 15 minutes."

"Okay, but don't you tell him about Asheville. I wanna do it."

By Monday, Paige called the coach and set up a time to visit on the following Saturday.

Since Asheville was three hours from our home, we decided to drive up Saturday morning, but stay overnight so we wouldn't have to make the long drive back on the same day.

Besides, seeing the campus was only part of the trip. We both wondered what the city itself was like, and hanging around seemed like a good idea.

"Why don't we make it a road trip and invite a couple more people?" suggested Ricky. "We could ask Lori and Tessa and Randi if they'd like to go, too."

"I have a four-door car," I started. "What, are half of them going to sit in someone else's lap?"

As soon as I said that, I had an image of Randi sitting demurely in my lap wearing a skirt while unbeknown to the others she was squeezing my hard-on lodged deeply inside her.

"No, we could borrow my dad's Expedition. It'll hold plenty," he said.

"That sounds like fun, Dad. Can we?" asked Paige.

"Hmm," I said, thinking fast. "We could do like we did Friday night and squeeze you girls in a double-bed room. Ricky would room with me. So we'd have to cap it at five or six people so we wouldn't overcrowd the SUV or the rooms."

"Thanks, Dad. I'll make some calls."

A little while later, Paige bounded down the stairs.

"Okay, we've got two more."

I looked up from ESPN.

"Carrie said she'd love to go. She wants a chance to meet the coaches and maybe get on their radar a little. She didn't have her best game Saturday, and she'd like to get them to come watch her play again next year."

"That's good thinking. With her size and another year of training and experience, she might surprise people."

"And Randi said she'd love to go. She said she's heard good things about Asheville, but has never been."

I liked the sound of that. Maybe while the other three were busy with touring the campus, Randi and I could sneak away for a lunch date.

While Paige and Ricky sat at the kitchen table doing homework, I thought about Randi.

We should have a date. In fact, we should do more together than just hide out in this house. No, of course we couldn't just drive over to the local steakhouse and have dinner. If people found out I was dating a teenager, I'd lose my coaching job for sure, and a lot of my friends around town would disown me.

But we could always take a short trip out of town.

Randi and I had been sleeping together -- when time allowed -- for more than three months, and I felt an urge to take things further. Was I thinking about marriage and having kids all over again? No, nothing that far along. But the idea of being with her every day was appealing -- even if it were nothing more than reading the morning paper.

I picked up my cell phone and sent her a text.

"What nights r u free this week?"

"Wed n Sat"

"Come here Wed after class"

"OK. Miss you"

"Miss you too"

On Tuesday, I had an idea and flipped through my phone list until I found the right name. I put in a call and spoke to the secretary of one of my business contacts. She said she would handle the arrangements.

The next day, Randi arrived at the house around 3:30 p.m. I greeted her with an embrace and kiss that lasted half a minute. When I finally let her up for air, she beamed.

"Boy, you really did miss me."

"It's nearly been a week. That's far too long without seeing those gorgeous green eyes."

"So what did you want to see me about, mister?" she asked, pressing her breasts firmly against me.

"Dinner and a movie."

She pulled back and stared intently into my eyes.

"Seriously?"

"Completely. I've made dinner reservations for 6, and then there's a movie playing nearby at 7:25 I think you'd like."

"You and me? Just waltzing down the sidewalk in front of all your friends, and possibly friends of my parents?"

"Not here, exactly. How about Burlington? Far enough away to be safe."

She thought it over a few seconds.

"I'm not sure how far that is from here. Do we need to leave soon for the restaurant?"

"Nope, plenty of time."

"And Paige?"

"Now that the rigors of basketball season are over, she said she wanted a new hairdo. She has an appointment at 4."

"So ..."

With that, I scooped her up in my arms and carried her to my bedroom. We had six days of catching up to do.

After a wonderful half an hour (and some needed snuggling), we arose and cleaned up for our night out.

No sooner had I pulled out of the driveway when a twinge of panic curled around my guts and squeezed.

We were on a date. We weren't just making small talk around the kitchen counter or talking music while practicing guitar. We were going to be sitting in a restaurant surrounded by strangers and be expected to talk.

What if I couldn't think of a single thing to say? What if we sit there in one of those unbearable silences until she's asking me just to take back to her car?

Or what if I do talk, but everything I say comes out sounding like an out-of-touch middle-aged man? She could be completely turned off and never want to see me again.

Yep, it was a good thing that she couldn't hear what I was thinking because there's no doubt my many insecurities would have had her running for the hills.

Thankfully Randi interrupted my hysteria.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I made a playlist of songs that I'd like to try to play," she said. "Does your radio have Bluetooth?"

"No, but there is a cord in the dash you can plug into the front panel."

She retrieved the cord from the glove box, and we chatted about music as we rode to Burlington.

The jitters faded, and I was back to remembering what drew me to her in the first place.

It wasn't just the beautiful features or those magical eyes or the smoking hot body that caused me to become infatuated. No, Paige had friends who were pretty and sexy, but Randi just had a way of drawing me out, getting me to talk. How could I have ever worried about dinner?

The Italian restaurant looked rather boxy from the outside, but I'd heard good things from folks at the furniture market.

Sure enough, the food was excellent, and a man who introduced himself as the owner stopped by each of the tables and made us feel welcomed. I waited to see if he tried to sneak a few peeks up and down of Randi, but he was very professional.

During the meal I asked her a few questions about some of the places she'd lived. Her father traveled a lot with his job and didn't see much of his wife and daughter. As he had progressed up a couple of promotions, her father uprooted the family twice, leaving her in a new town for her senior year. Soon I had her telling little anecdotes.

"So there we are on this family vacation at a state park," she recounted. "I was maybe four years old and in love with every living creature on the planet. I'd never met a dog I didn't hug and squeeze.

"I see this dog off in the distance on a leash, and of course I want to run over and play with it. But my dad must have seen something he didn't like about the dog.

"He says, 'Stay with us and don't go near that dog.' Then Mom asked him something, and I took off running over to the animal. It was some breed of terrier and skittish, but I was four and didn't know how to spot a scared dog.

"I reached out to pet it, and the dog bit me on the outside edge of my hand. Well that just flew all over me, and I kicked out and caught him right in the ribs.

"Then I felt two hands snatch me up into the air and carry me away from there.

"When we were a good ways off, Dad dropped me to my feet in one of those half-scared/half-angry states."

I nodded my head. Every dad knows that feeling. Is she okay? Good, 'cause now I'm gonna kill her.

On the next part, she dropped the volume of her voice drastically as she quoted her father exactly.

"'Didn't I tell you to stay away from that goddamned dog?' And I answered right back, 'Well the goddamned dog bit me!'"

I could just imagine that stubborn 4-year-old version of Randi sticking her lower lip out, propping her hands on her hips and giving as good as she got to her old man. I laughed until tears came to my eyes.

The waitress stopped by to check on us and remarked, "I wish I was having as good a time as you guys. Y'all need anything?"

I could only shake my head as I tried to regain my breath.

"So what did your dad say about you dropping a big cuss word?"

"At first I wasn't sure what was going on. His face was all contorting like he was in pain, then he left out this snigger and looked over at Mom. Then they both cut loose laughing."

"That's the kind of thing my dad used to do all the time," I said. "Not with me, of course, but with Paige. He was a strict man who had all these rules to live by and could be so critical, but he just thought the sun rose and set by Paige.

"He worked a full-time job and a part-time job. He would work four or five hours in the morning, eat lunch and then sleep until the evening when he would get up to head off the factory for third shift. And if I woke him up when I got in from school, he could be a bear.

"But when Paige was a toddler, she would run through the house looking for her Papa. Then she'd pat him on the face or tug on his ear until he woke up. And all he'd do is smile really big and say, 'Hey, sweetheart.'"

"When did he pass away?"

"Back when Paige was in middle school. Heart attack, died almost instantly."

"What about your mom? You don't talk about her much."

I took a breath and let it out slowly.

"She fell."

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I didn't know. How did it happen, was she hiking or mountain climbing?"

I chuckled at the image of my mom in an apron with curlers in her hair rappelling down a cliff.

"No, nothing like that. It was the driveway."

Randi looked confused, like so many people had over the years. It was a story I'd told a time or two in my life.

"She was walking out to get the mail, and there was ice on the driveway. She slipped and fell backward. She hit her head on the ground, but claimed she never lost consciousness. I don't know if that's true or if she was out for a few minutes and didn't know any better.

"She got the mail, went back inside and didn't say a word to anyone. I was in high school, and Dad was asleep. After school I had basketball practice and then I hung out at a friend's house until it was about time for Dad to get up and shower.

"When I got there, Dad was asking Mom questions, but she wasn't making any sense. I spoke to her, but when she turned her head my way, even I could tell she wasn't right. She tried to walk, but she staggered. Dad caught her arm and when I looked at it, her hand was twitching. That hand all twitchy was what stuck with me for a long time afterward.

"We helped her to the car and put her in the backseat so that I could ride alongside her while he drove."

"That's awful," said Randi. "I'm sorry I asked you to relive something like that. You don't have to say anymore."

"There isn't much left to say. When we got her to the hospital, Mom passed out and died a couple of hours later.

"The doctor said the fall must have caused a little bit of bleeding on the brain. Over a few hours, the blood pooled up and put pressure on the brain until brain cells started to die off."

Randi winced, and I felt bad for oversharing. I tried to think of how to change the subject, but she asked another question.

"Did that bring you and your dad closer together or push you apart?"

"That's a really good question. Hmm, I would say both. At first I had all this anger about Mom dying, and I blurted out one day that it was all his fault. If he hadn't gotten so upset in the past about being awakened earlier than usual, then she might have gone to him and asked for help before she got so bad off.

"I regretted saying it almost as soon as it came out because he looked like someone had punched him right in the gut. That's when I realized he was blaming himself for that very reason.

"A couple of days later, I told him I was sorry. Even if he'd been sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper, she still might not have said a word. She didn't like going to the doctor and would have waited hours, if not days, before giving in and talking to a physician.

"He nodded his head like he agreed, but I know he felt guilty until the day he died."

Randi slid out of her chair, stepped closer and leaned down to kiss me on the cheek. She put her arms around my shoulders and hugged me with her face pressed against mine.

I felt a little self-conscious being hugged openly in a restaurant, but Randi wasn't fazed.

A tear was squished between our faces, and I wasn't sure if it had fallen from my eyes or hers.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered into my ear. "I am so stupid. Here we were having a great dinner, and I ruined it by bringing up all this sensitive stuff."

"Hey, no," I started. Pushing her away enough to make eye contact, I said, "This has been wonderful date so far, and I want to keep having a great time. This was something you needed to know at some point. It doesn't mean the night is ruined. And it doesn't mean I'm going to forget you cussing your dad when you were four."

She gave a snort, then began to sniffle.

"I'm going to go freshen up."

Talking about my mom used to be hard, but over the past two decades I'd told lots of people about the accident -- maybe not in such detail though. I still missed my mom, and some days it hurt worse than others, but on this night I think Randi was more upset than I was. Of course, this was all new to her.

The Henry that the rest of the world tended to see was a man who tried to keep things light, friendly, a little playful. Sharing something personal about myself wasn't a regular event. I tended to deflect personal questions with humor, but opening up to Randi felt nice. I could trust her to keep my feelings between us.

It made me want to know more about her, too. So when she sat down, I asked a question that had occurred to me earlier, but I hadn't wanted to ask it and be all serious.

"Since I shared, here is one for you. Your dad traveled a lot, and it was just you and your mom a lot of the time. What was that like for you?"

Whereas I might have cracked a joke, Randi sat there and considered the question. I sat patiently and let her gather her thoughts.

"There were times when I was upset with my father for leaving us alone," she said. "Things were tough without a man around. Like any kid, I was perfectly okay with letting a grownup solve my problems.

"But when your mom is working or trying to keep the house up, you adapt. There was no one there to put my chain back on my bike when it slipped off. So I had to figure out how to do it by myself. There was no one to lug in groceries or pick up some heavy thing that needed moving, so I got stronger.

"When the sink was clogged, and we took the pipe loose, there was some disgusting crud in that pipe that made me gag, but you suck it up.

"I guess that's one of the reasons I don't like people telling me what I can't do. I used to think I couldn't do anything myself, but I got smarter and stronger, and now I know I can handle things."

I smiled, feeling this powerful sense of pride at what an incredible young woman Randi had become.

"Now it's your turn," she said, but with a grin playing at the edges of her mouth. "You heard my story of cursing at age four. But I never hear you use bad language. Is that you just being on your best behavior, or do you never cuss at all?"

"Wait 'til I hit my thumb with a hammer -- you'll hear plenty."

I realized I was doing it again, avoiding answers with humor.

"I used to cuss a fair bit, but I tried to break myself of that when Paige was born. And then when she started school and began bringing friends over all the time, I was even more careful not to let loose with a bad word in front of them.

"Besides, movies and music and a lot of the teens I see on the street just cuss all the time. People have terrible vocabularies these days. They don't know how to express themselves and their feelings without resorting to garbage."

I realized I was starting to get preachy, but I couldn't resist continuing.

"My first editor was a riot. He taught me everything I know about journalism. The man only ever used one curse word in the office. Just one. He would get riled up about something, and he would turn to his go-to word."

I sat up straighter in my chair and put on my best impersonation, complete with banging my fist for emphasis.

"I hate these daaammmmned computers," I spat, bouncing the silverware with my blows to the table.

Randi laughed as some other patrons turned to see what all the commotion was about.

"He sounds like a hoot."

"Oh, he was. Full of good advice. One day he was giving me some tips on starting my articles. The first paragraph is called a lede. He said to me, 'A good lede is like a woman's skirt. It should be long enough to cover the essentials, but short enough to keep me interested.'"

"Is that right?" she asked with a laugh.

"Oh yeah. Another time, he was explaining some of the stuff people mess up like imply and infer or lay and lie. 'Now, lay means to put something down. Lie is to put yourself down. Remember, young man, you can lay whomever you want, but you're gonna have to lie to do it.'"

"And I'll bet you never messed that up again."

"No way."

With dinner finished, we stepped out of the restaurant, and Randi laced her fingers through mine. We shared a smile as we crossed the parking lot.

I opened her door and she stepped forward like she was about to sit down, but she turned first.

She looked like she was going to say something, but just shook her head and smiled again. Then she leaned forward and gently pressed her lips to mine for a few seconds. I was starting to get into the kiss when she pulled away and sat down.

I had this idea that the movie would be the easy part of the night because you don't have to speak. Well it did turn out to be an easy, comfortable segment of the date, but it wasn't that quiet.

The movie was mostly full, but we still found a spot where we'd have an empty seat on each side of us. Then we spent much of the movie whispering back and forth.