Nostalgia Ch. 02

"Hello, Miss Ana? This is Henry Williamson. Your father gave me your number. I'd like to get in touch with you soon. Thanks."

What an unexpected text message!

And why in the world was her father giving out her phone number like that?!

Ana groaned and gave the man a call.

It turned out that the madman wanted her to join the motherfucking Fair Orchard Country Club! God damn it! Ana didn't think she was anywhere near enough of a snob to consider doing such a thing. But she tried to be polite. She told him that while the offer was delightful, she didn't think she could afford the membership fee.

"Oh, don't worry about that! We're always happy to provide discounts to members with certain skills and talents."

"Mr. Williamson, I make comics for a living."

"That's a skill, isn't it? Just come to the Spring Charity Dinner, alright? You'll be a guest."

Ana wanted to throw her cell phone out her bedroom window. She took a gritty, slow breath, and she said, "Isn't the point of a charity to donate? I don't plan on donating anything."

"You don't have to, but if you wanted, you could sign a copy of your graphic novel and give it to us. You have fans, don't you? That could be sold off for the cause."

"What's the cause?"

"Oh, it's for an organization that puts more women into universities."

Oh fuck. Really? Ana gripped one of her bed's posts. "What women? What country?"

"Well, this one, of course. America."

Ana stomped onto her bedroom's carpeted floor. Her words were rapid and angry.

"That's not exactly a worthy cause! Women in America have been attending universities with little to no sexual discrimination for at least several decades! I'm pretty sure that female students outnumber the male ones at this point! I'm not donating anything to a virtue signaling organization like that! I'd donate to help starving children get better access to food, or something along those lines, but ... agghhh ... come on!" She even shook her head. "No, Sir. I'm not interested. Thank you for the opportunity, but I just won't do it."

"Oh, please think it over! You're an upstanding member of the community. Some members are already asking about you."

Ana snorted. She didn't really believe the man. She was starting to think that he wanted something from her, something she wasn't going to give up.

"And you know, Miss Ana, your parents have wanted to become members for a long time now."

She groaned because that was painfully true.

"If you become a member, or at least attend the dinner, then I'd be more willing to put in a good word for them."

Damn it. He got her where she was weak, right in her heart, right where her family cozily slept.

"Well, alright Mr. Williamson. I'll come to the dinner, but that's all, okay?" Frankly, she was surprised that he didn't give up after her cringy rant, but he won in the end. She gave in.

"Wonderful!"

***

Just enough foundation to brighten her complexion and a clear lip gloss, that's all she put on her face this evening. She combed her hair, bangs included, and put it in a simple knot at her nape. Then she made sure her ankle-length, black dress was modest yet flattering. Ana had nothing against skin exposure. She just didn't feel like showing off for country club people, especially not Henry Williamson.

Kitten heels tapping the stoop's steps of the townhouse she lived in, Ana patted her little purse with straight fingers. She got into her car and sighed, knowing this was mostly a waste of time, but her parents would be happy, so there was that to think of.

The Fair Orchard Country Club was kept away from the towns and cities. There was a massive building that looked like a mansion, a few smaller buildings, a golf course, a tennis court, a swimming pool, a spa, a gym, a game room, a restaurant, a bar, a ballroom/dining room, a shooting range, a set of horse stables with adorable horses, a polo arena, and just large chunks of land in general.

Luxurious and fun, it wasn't a bad place. Ana just didn't like the sort of people she was bound to meet. She didn't think all rich people were bad. She just didn't expect an average rich person to be someone she could relate to.

When she tried to park her car, a parking valet waved at her, trying to get her to stop and give him her keys. Ana rolled her window down and cried out, "No thanks!" Then she put her vehicle into the first open space she could see, or at least the first open space that didn't have a "members only" sign.

Ana wandered around until an employee directed her to the dining area. It was a place with white walls, pale chairs, and fragrant spring flowers. People were either eating or signing their names at booths. The booths had lists of items for sale, and the profits were meant to go towards the charity. However, there was also a booth where you could just give money without expecting a single thing in return. Ana would've sat down by herself, but she happened to see her dad and stepmom. So, she sat at their table.

Kennedy Davis' red lips formed a warm smile as she gave her stepdaughter a hug. Her curly, chocolate colored hair put a minty cucumber scent into Ana's nose. "Hi there, Sweetie. How's life?"

"Fine. Nothing to report." Ana noticed a waiter approaching. "So were you guys waiting on me?"

"Of course," her dad said as he too seemed to notice the waiter.

The trio told the waiter what they wanted to eat.

And then, to Ana's surprise, her dad pointed his head towards another table and said, "Those two men over there are being considered for membership here."

Ana discreetly looked at the table.

Her throat seemed to swell and her toes nearly cramped. She recognized one of those men.

"They're from Romania," her father continued with his typical cheerful voice. "Isn't that neat? Maybe you should go and say hi? They might like hearing Romanian from a friendly girl."

Vlad Dalca was ... just sitting there ... and he looked at her ... his eyebrows rose and he waved at her with closed fingers. Ana nodded, and she weakly said to her dad, "Oh, I've already met the older guy."

"You did?! What a coincidence! Where did you meet?"

Ana gulped down a thick lump of who knows what as she put her eyes to the younger man. He must be the son. He was almost his father's opposite. While he wasn't a thin, delicate little thing, he wasn't as thick as Vlad. He had a leaner sort of build, a thinner and prettier face, and the happiest grin in the world.

"I saw him at a bookstore," Ana said. "Then we had a bite at a cafe. He mentioned his son."

Mason Davis innocently said, "Well that's just cute. He probably wanted to play matchmaker."

She heard her stepmother say with a low tone, "The son's pretty good looking."

Ana didn't care about that.

Maybe she should go?

But why? Nobody was doing anything wrong. Why not just stay and eat? She didn't have to go over there and talk to them.

Ana lightly bit at the inside of her cheek. Then she turned to Kennedy. "I'm not really interested."

She felt Kennedy's hand on her shoulder, and then she was being gently nudged back and forth. "But he obviously has some money. I heard he bought the mansion that Mrs. Barker sold before she left for South Carolina, you know, the one with the black shutters."

The waiter put a trio of drinks on the table. Ana made a point to thank him. Then, as the waiter left, Ana said, "That Colonial Revival beast?"

"With a gate and a long driveway to the door," Kennedy firmly said.

Ana took a sip from her drink.

She hadn't known the Dalcas were so wealthy.

All the more reason to avoid them.

Maybe they got a jump start on money making by visiting and working in other European countries and then made very clever investments?

Well, it was none of her business anyway. Ana just wanted to get this dinner over with, give Mr. Williamson a mannerly greeting, and go home.

When the waiter finally arrived with the food, and when the family was eagerly eating, Ana wondered a bit about herself. Was she acting like a little high school girl who was liked by the popular girls but held her nose up and assumed she was better than the popular crowd? Was she being judgmental? Was she being a salty edge lord trying too hard to be nonconforming?

Hey, it wasn't like she was using a sharp edge of something not so deadly to draw faint lines on her arm, putting photos of the "damage" on the Internet, and whining to the world about how she hated everything and she cuts herself just because. Self harm ... well ... harm in general just didn't interest her.

Except when she had to draw something particularly horrifying. That was usually fun ... until she had to do research on actual wounds and corpses and other nasty things ... and then the interest would turn to disgust ... and she'd have to swallow the disgust down for the sake of art.

"Oh, hello there! I'm glad you're here."

She knew that voice. Ana looked up from her meal and shook the hand of Henry Williamson. "Thanks for inviting me."

Pleasant, glassy words, politeness and civility shared between the Davises and Mr. Williamson, they felt like a comb being forced through a knot of hopelessly matted hair. Cutting it off would have been much more comfortable.

Soon, Mr. Williamson asked Ana if she wanted to be shown all of the booths, just in case she changed her mind about donating. Ana refused as mildly as she could. Then she took her last bite of food. She rose from her seat and shook Mr. Williamson's hand again. "That was a fantastic dinner. Thank you for convincing the membership committee to have me as a guest."

His blue eyes reflecting light bulbs and perhaps something Ana didn't want to see, Mr. Williamson put his free hand over the back of the delicate hand that he shook, pretty much holding her hand as if she were somehow dear to him. "I wish you'd stay. The party's only just started."

"I can't stay," Ana said as she pulled her hand out of his grasp. Damn, he was sweaty! She had to silently tell herself not to wipe her hand on her dress. "I have a sketch to flesh out before bedtime." She went between her parents and kissed both their cheeks. "See you guys later, okay?"

"Okay, Goosey," her dad said as he patted her hand.

"Take care," Kennedy added.

Ana nodded and hurried out of the room. For some reason, she thought she could feel the shadows around her, cool and creeping. It was the weirdest thought.

Once she was outside the entrance door, on a large porch, Ana put three fingernails to her scalp so she could scratch at a mild itch. Then she heard another voice somewhere to her right. It used Romanian words.

"Good evening, how are you?"

Her fingers curled around her purse's handle. Underneath the yellow glow of the outdoor lights, she saw Mr. Dalca. His back was against a column. One of his legs was bent, so the bottom of his shoe was on that column too. His arms were folded across his chest. His black suit fit him as if he had it custom made, which was highly likely.

And he was smiling like ...

Like her grandfather used to smile ...

Mellow and peaceful, as if he was relaxing on a Sunday afternoon, sitting in a rocking chair, and watching a toddler play in mud.

"Good evening. I'm fine. How are you?"

His hair wasn't tied back. It fell a bit past his shoulders in waves and curls. "I'm pleased to see you again. Are you a member of this club?"

The toe of one of her shoes beat against the porch's floor. "No. The fees are too high. I was invited to dinner as a guest. I don't really play golf much anyway." She shrugged. "It was nice seeing you again. Goodbye." She turned around.

"My son is considering joining, but I don't think it would be wise. He doesn't even like golf."

As ... mostly pleasant as this man was, Ana wanted to tell him to walk a bear. Instead, she looked back at him and repeated, "Goodbye."

***

The following day, Ana received a text from Kennedy. "The Dalcas invited us out to dinner! Isn't that great?!"

Ana didn't know how to respond. So, she just came up with a bland, boring reply. Then, she went back to her work.

A few days later, she received another text from Kennedy.

"The Dalcas are coming over for dinner. You want some food?"

"No thanks. Maybe next time."

And the afternoon after that, there was a text from Mr. Williamson. "Hi. Want to play some golf with my girls? Bring Kennedy along."

"Sorry. Can't go, but I hope you don't leave Kennedy out."

And ... the morning after that ... she got a phone call from her father.

"Hi, Dad. What's up?"

"Hey, Sweetie. I just saw a sign about a tag sale. You want in?"

That sounded like fun. "Okay, where is it?"

Not even fifteen minutes later, Ana was waking with her father in someone's yard, right in front of an open garage. Tables and boxes were set up with all sort of knickknacks, appliances, furniture, and other things. The sky was cloudy and cool, putting a relaxed filter on the world.

Later on, after they put their purchases in their cars, they stopped at a fast food joint. They rushed inside because rain was falling by then.

When they were smiling at each other, eating crappy but delicious sandwiches, a conversation about the rain started. It was a happy one. Ana was just like her father; they both loved the sound of rain. When it wasn't roaring it was grumbling. Electrical storms were a different subject, though.

Ana happily gazed out a large window, noting the moist distortion of drops and streams on the glass. Then she noticed a blurred vision, a flashy car so red that not even the rainy day could dilute the color.

"That's a nice car," she said as she pointed a salty French fry at the vehicle.

Mason Davis looked through the wet window. His eyes lit up. "Oh, that's Mihai's car!"

Ana blinked at him as she put her fry in her mouth, and she mumbled through her chewing, "Mihai?"

"Mihai Dalca, Vlad Dalca's son." Mason tore a bit more into his sandwich.

"Oh." The arches of her feet tingled. The father probably wouldn't be there. Nope. Mihai Dalca would be in that car, and probably with a hot piece of ass in the passenger's seat.

Not that it mattered. She didn't care. Nope. Didn't care at all.

But she looked through the window as if she did care.

Two men exited the vehicle. The driver had a clear umbrella with goofy cartoon characters printed on it. The passenger had a wine red umbrella.

And she knew exactly who they were.

Shit.

When the two Dalcas entered the building, Ana's back tensed. Her father waved at them. "Hey there! How are you guys?"

The two men closed their umbrellas, smiled at Mason, and walked on over to their table.

"Hello Mr. Davis. Good to see you." That was Mihai. His voice was bouncy and fun, the sound of sunshine. He had on a light denim jacket and a pair of black combat boots. When he turned to Ana, he gave something of a slight bow. "You're Ana, right? Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too." Ana inhaled through her nose and put on a smile that felt like it should creak. Her eyes went to Vlad Dalca. That man looked so unusually tired, but also happy, like a kitten that had just finished a play session and was lovingly snuggling with its owner as it tried not to sleep. Ana asked him, "Is this your son?"

His nostrils jerked. "Yes. This is my son."

"He's a good boy." That was Mason. He took a sip of his soda. The veins in his hands stood out quite a bit. His eyes popped as he seemed to recognize a need to correct himself. "I mean, he's a nice young man."

Vlad Dalca made an uptight kind of sniffing noise and said, "He's a good boy."

Mihai leaned in close to his father and whispered something that Ana heard and understood. "When your hairline starts receding, I'll burn all your hats."

Vlad ignored him and pointed his head towards Mason. "Are you going to celebrate Easter this year?"

"Oh yeah. The Missus will cook up the best ham you've ever seen. You're welcome to come."

Ana gulped down her soda and tried not to let her irritation escape from her throat. She couldn't avoid Easter dinner with her parents, not without feeling like a piece of shit. That meant that she'd have to socialize with these men more than she'd like to.

Mihai tugged on a cuff of his jacket's sleeve. "Would you like for us to bring something?"

Waving his hand, Mason said, "Don't worry about that. You don't have to bring anything." He folded up his sandwich's wrapper and said to Ana, "Hey Goosey, you think you could come early and bake something sweet for us?"

Pască, most likely.

Ana wiped her lips. "I don't mind. Kennedy's not the best at sweets anyway." She cushioned her statement by smiling and adding, "But she can bake some good ham."

A savory cologne hit her nose as Vlad Dalca slightly bent over, getting that much closer to her. "Will you be painting eggs?"

"Oh no." Ana shook her head. Her hair was in a low ponytail. So, it didn't shake in her face. "That stuff's for kids."

With disappointment so strong that Ana could taste it, Vlad Dalca straightened his back and said, "Oh."

"Just a dinner and a little chat after that." Mason sucked in a bit of gas, covering his mouth with his fist. "Excuse me. Oh, try not to be late. This is America. And we like to wear shoes in the house. Is that okay?"

Scratching his ear, Mihai grinned and said, "A lot of Americans are just like that, huh? That's fine."

"Cool," Ana said. "Are you finished, Dad?"

After Mason nodded he started gathering his trash over to hers, putting all of it on one tray. She got out of her seat, passed Vlad, and walked to the nearest trash can. When she returned to the table, the Dalcas said goodbye and went to make their orders.

Well, it was time to go.

***

"Good morning, Ana!"

That was a man appearing on her laptop's screen via webcam. It was morning where he was. It was evening time in Ana's plain living room. Beside the man, there was a perky woman with a fluffy pixie cut dyed light brown.

"Hi, Uncle Daniel. Hi, Aunt Tomomi!" Ana waved at her screen and smiled. "Everything okay?"

Daniel nodded and waved a thick manga in front of his camera. "Yeah! Tomomi's latest issue was published."

Tomomi's lively brown eyes made happy, laughing sort of winces. "I want to send more issues to you."

Ana grinned. "That's very kind. Do you think there will ever be an anime?"

Her uncle adjusted his glasses. "Actually, yeah."

Tomomi put a hand to her cheek and shyly pointed her pretty eyes down. "I've been offered a very reasonable contract. I hope for the best outcome."

Clapping her hands, Ana cheered. "Congratulations! You've worked so hard, and now there will be an anime! That sounds like a dream life to me!"

"Don't be a weeb, Sweetie." Uncle Daniel's voice was devilish.

With an equal amount of teasing flavor, Ana countered with, "You're a bigger weeb than I'll ever be."

With the gentlest, most accepting voice ever, Aunt Tomomi cut in the exchange with this: "I like the weeaboo. I don't think it's a bad thing to be. I like both of you."

All three people laughed. Then, her uncle said, "By the way, remember Fujioka? Fujioka Takara?"

The memory of a particularly frightening and sad nightmare shimmered in Ana's mind, but she nodded. "I haven't heard from her in years."

"I heard she got married," Uncle Daniel said, "and she's doing well as a business owner. I think she has a clothing store."

"Oh, that's very nice." Ana was happy for her. She really was, but at that moment, all she could think of was someone who died.

A salty, windy taste was in her mouth.

***

Obviously, Ana couldn't get all the finest ingredients that had been home grown in Romania. She did her best, though, and in the end she had a pastry cooling off on a table. It was sort of like a very light cheesecake with raisins and a braided edge.