“No I ain’t. He’s just a little tight is all.”
I turned to the bartender and said, “What kinda place ya runnin, here?”
“A real friendly place, until you got here,” he said while wiping a cocktail glass. “Never had anything like that happen here, ever.”
Boy, his story had certainly changed when he found out that Adam’s father was coming to get his kid.
Suddenly, the front door burst open and Fred Blank lumbered in. “What in tarnation is goin on in here?” he bellowed. “Get in the truck, Adam.”
“That’s a real fine boy ya got there, mister. You sure are bringing him up the right way,” I hissed.
Blank turned on me and said, “You. I shoulda known you’d cause trouble. You and that bitch yer lookin for.”
I got toe to toe with him and could smell his foul breath. Earl stepped up and said to me, “Sir, my mind tells me to let you two have at it. But then I’ll have to summon the rescue squad and all the reports about your injuries will be time consuming. So it ain’t gonna happen. Fred, you get home now and sober that boy of yours up.”
Fred snarled at me and spun on his heels and left.
Earl turned to me and said, “As for you. You get your date and get outta here too.”
Mandy came up to my side, trembling, and said, “Take me home.”
Her hair was wet from washing, as were her clothes. When we got in my rental, she started to sniffle. “I just don’t fit in here. The people in town are okay, but the rural folks hate my guts. He poured pee on me,” she wailed. “How vile is that?”
I waited while she showered and changed. It seemed we were having a real good conversation before Adam Blank came to our table. I hoped we could continue it at Mandy’s house.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get clean enough,” Mandy sighed as she toweled her hair.
But she looked fresh and her cheeks were rosy from her shower. She wore a baby blue terry robe, with flannel pajamas underneath.
“You asked me earlier if I thought part of my problem was not fitting in because I’m female. I believe Adam Blank is a bully, like his father, and he wouldn’t have done that if I was a guy. He knew I wouldn’t retaliate.” She sniffled and blew her nose and gave out a long sigh.
“Are you ready to turn in?” I asked her.
She nodded yes. I asked her if I could come back in the morning and she again nodded.
“Don’t you have to work?”
“The only thing I have to do tomorrow is go in and ask for a leave of absence.”
Her voice was matter-of-fact, almost exactly the way I remembered her mother’s.
Chapter Ten
The next afternoon I waited for Mandy in front of the Surf Ballroom. I was flying out that evening and heading for home and I wanted to see the Surf Ballroom and Museum before I left. I had no idea if Mandy was going with me or not.
The museum consisted of hundreds of pictures of rock and roll stars and numerous displays of memorabilia. My mind, however, was on the phone conversation I’d had with Kerrie earlier. Something she said was vexing me. I told her I’d found Mandy and that she seemed fine. I left out the part about her being hated by the farmers in Mason City. “I think I’ve convinced her to travel home,” I told Kerrie.
She said, “Okay, that’s fine if she wants to. It’s no big deal.”
Now, God damn it, a couple of days ago she was adamant that I find her and now it’s no big deal?
Before I could respond, Kerrie started to cough and Vayda picked up the phone and whispered, “Hurry, Mr. Venice.”
I finished the tour and stood on the sidewalk and watched Mandy approach.
“Venice, I think I’ll take you up on that ticket. Kerrie and I have some unfinished business.”
Our flight from Des Moines was half full so we had a seat between us. The lights were low in the cabin and I watched Mandy sleep. My heart swelled when I thought she might be my daughter, then instantly I was angry for the years that had been wasted. I hated the thought that she knew about me and I knew nothing about her. What she must have thought about me and my character?
What if she weren’t my daughter? What then? It was what it was.
It was early morning when we landed at Sea-Tac and by the time I secured a rental car the sun was up on a windy day.
Mandy’s breathing became rapid and she let out huge anxiety sighs every so often. By the time I parked in front of Kerrie’s house, Mandy was pale and teary eyed.
“Will it be okay, Venice? Tell me it will be okay. Maybe I shouldn’t have come.”
I held her shoulders and looked her in the eye and said, “This is where you are supposed to be, honey. Go make nice with your mom.”
Vayda opened the door and showed us into the living room then noticed Mandy’s solemn look and gave her a hug.
“Madam is just starting to wake. She won’t want to see anybody until she has her bath and makeup done. Can you wait?”
I got a room at a Holiday Inn for Mandy. We took advantage of the complimentary breakfast and then she went to her room to freshen up.
The drive back to Kerrie’s was filled with deep sighs once again. I reached over and gave Mandy’s hand a squeeze and assured her that she was doing the right thing. She told me she hoped I was right. I felt certain I was.
Kerrie was sitting awkwardly in her wheelchair in the middle of the living room. In just a few days she’d become more fragile and the house had taken on a medicine smell.
Mandy entered with her head bowed and with cautious steps. The stare between these two, mother and daughter, seemed to last an eternity. My thought was somebody needs to take the high road. Somebody please take the high road, I thought.
Finally, “Hello, Mommy.”
Kerrie cracked a slight smile, raised her hand and motioned her daughter closer. Mandy knelt with her head in Kerrie’s lap and sobbed.
Vayda and I looked at one another through our tears, and concluded silently that we should leave them alone. As I left the room, I heard Kerrie say, “All that matters, honey, is that you’re here.”
A week later Kerrie fell into a coma and died. I was back in Los Gatos when Mandy called with the news. I felt fortunate that the last time I’d seen Kerrie she was lucid and that amends had been made. She was so grateful to me for finding Mandy and kept thanking me over and over.
“You will come for the service, won’t you?” Mandy asked. “Oh, and by the way, I got the results back from the lab.”
I asked, “Well, what does it say?”
“I’ll wait until we’re together before I open it, Venice.”
Chapter Eleven
My house in Blueport had been recently cleaned and accommodated me, Kate and my sister, Lydia, nicely. We arrived the day before Kerrie’s service. The three of us and Mandy, along with Vayda, had dinner at the Rainier Room. After introductions were made, we settled in for conversations and toasts to Kerrie. At one point Mandy pulled a white gift box from her tote and said, “Venice, this for you, from Kerrie.”
I looked perplexed and shrugged my shoulders. I looked at the faces around the table and undid the ribbon. I moved tissue paper and saw my mother’s cobalt blue vase, the one I’d noticed in Kerrie’s living room when I started my search for Mandy.
“Hey, I remember that!” Lydia exclaimed.
“There’s a note inside the vase,” Mandy said. “I wrote it, Kerrie told me what to say.”
I read the short note and nodded to Mandy. She smiled and I slipped the note in my pocket. Kerrie had thanked me for bringing Mandy to her and she hoped that Mandy and I could have a relationship. There was no doubt in my mind that we would.
The service was graveside and several people from the pre-school community were present. I stood with Mandy and Vayda and we tossed a handful of dirt into the space where her urn had been lowered.
Mandy had a small reception at Kerrie’s house after the services. There were just the five of us left—Mandy, Vayda, Lydia, Ka
te, and me. I had played out in my mind how this next segment would go: the lab result. Mandy and I would retreat to another room and open up the envelope that held the results of the DNA test.
And that’s what we did. We went into the kitchen while the others stayed in the living room. The night before I’d tossed and turned, trying to figure out how I would act if I were her father and how I’d be if I weren’t. Kate finally told me to leave the bed. I sat up all night, or most of it anyway. I woke with the sun shining in my face and a crick in my neck.
Mandy’s hand was shaking as she slid the envelope across the tabletop to me. I picked it up, looked her in the eye and started to open the flap. “Stop!” she said loudly. “Throw it away, Venice. Don’t open it.”
I stared at her and shook my head slightly.
“Let’s think this through,” Mandy said as if she were talking to herself. “If Venice isn’t my father, I don’t want to know that. If he is, great. But what if he’s not…”
“Honey, no matter what this says,” I announced waving the envelope back and forth, “You and I are joined. I will do whatever is necessary. I’ll adopt you.”
“Burn the results. That’s all I needed to hear, Venice. Burn it,” she said.
“What? Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Don’t open it. Burn it.”
I couldn’t help myself. I got really choked up and couldn’t talk for a minute. After that, I broke into a big grin. I stood up and embraced her and she hugged me back, tight, like a little kid hugs her daddy.
“That’s all I need to hear, Mandy,” I said.
About Steve Sporleder
Steve Sporleder is a lifelong resident of Los Gatos, and the author of three books, From Sleepy Lagoon to the Corner of the Cats; A Fouled Nest, and Gallivanting in the City, all set in the town of Los Gatos, CA. Steve, a former firefighter in Saratoga, CA, for thirty-two years, draws on his experience as a fifth-generation Los Gatos resident to infuse his writing with local flavor and history. His grandfather, father, uncles and brothers were also in the fire service and his family has served the town of Los Gatos and surrounding areas for over 100 years.
His most recent novel, From Sleepy Lagoon to the Corner of the Cats was a Finalist in the 2012 Next Generation Indie Book Awards.
In From Sleepy Lagoon to the Corner of the Cats, Steve recounts the saga of four generations of la familia Reyes in powerful, moving terms. Through his consummate storytelling and details of setting and place, we are transported to 1917 when newlyweds Ramon and Monica Reyes flee the Mexican Revolution in search of the “American Dream.” In a defining moment in the 1940s, Miguel “Mickey” Reyes, their teenage son, makes a life-altering decision late one night in the outskirts of the barrios of Los Angeles that forever shapes this family’s destiny—a tragedy that propels the Reyes family away from Sleepy Lagoon and north to the quiet and lush town of Los Gatos.
Gallivanting in the Gem City – Whether it’s the “Dirty Boys of Boo Gang”, when a bucolic 1933 summer day turns tragic at the town swimming hole along Los Gatos Creek, catapulting three young boys toward a decision that will have consequences over three generations, or any of his other energetic stories, Gallivanting will leave you both longing for the gentler days of the past and eerily wary of the darkness hidden within innocence.
A Fouled Nest – Thirty years after fleeing Los Gatos, California, Venice Webb receives a call from his sister with the news that their father has died. In a startling mix of abrupt confessions, resurfacing memories, and disturbing clues, Venice is left to piece together the incidents that have forever marked his family. At once, the truth about his father’s erratic behavior and neglect closes in on Venice like a freight train at full speed.
Other Short Stories by Steve Sporleder:
Conversations with Clete – In “Conversations with Clete,” Cletus Rossiter, a man in his mid-sixties, is concerned about his snoring and sleep apnea, and records himself while sleeping in order to find out how bad his apnea is. But he gets far more than he bargained for when strange voices show up in the recordings and he even hears himself speaking German, a language he doesn’t know. He encounters Kruger, a Nazi soldier; Zeralda, a widow from the 1880s, and a club boxer, Kid Pierpont. Clete is left to wonder if these are dreams or if he is dealing with ghosts from the historic past?
“Conversations with Clete” developed from an actual incident in my life. I recorded myself sleeping just to see how badly I snored. As I listened, I wondered if I talked in my sleep. There was nothing but snoring on the recording, but I deliberated on what would happen if a spirit visited me while sleeping and we spoke to each other?
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