HOVERING 2 - dadflashes.com · Hovering When Jeff’s family exited the temple from the Bar Mitzvah...

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Hovering When Jeff’s family exited the temple from the Bar Mitzvah service, a girl charged at his daughter with her arms opened wide. The girl knocked Madison backward, but Madison wasn’t fazed. As soon as she regained her balance, she returned the embrace with equal exuberance. Jeff had never seen this girl but knew that didn’t matter. The seventh-grade set exchanged hug-hellos with mere acquaintances. Even the boys hugged each other. He was glad he’d grown up in a simpler time when a routine handshake sufficed as a greeting. When the girls released each other, Madison surveyed the other girl’s dress, which was cellophane-wrap tight and low-cut enough to reveal far more cleavage than any thirteen-year-old should have. Jeff’s wife, Sharon, had vetoed Madison’s initial choice for a party dress and had only approved one with a high neckline and bell-shaped bottom. The envy that dripped from Madison’s voice when she said, “Rachel, you look gorgeous,” made it clear she wished she hadn’t been forced to wear something so prim and proper. Rachel pointed at a bus that all the kids who’d come to the service without parents were piling into and asked Madison if she’d like to join them for the ride to the hotel for the reception. Rachel moved toward the bus, but Madison hesitated. The night before, Jeff had complained to Madison about how little time he got to spend with her now. If she wasn’t sleeping over at friends’ houses, she was on her computer, chatting

Transcript of HOVERING 2 - dadflashes.com · Hovering When Jeff’s family exited the temple from the Bar Mitzvah...

Page 1: HOVERING 2 - dadflashes.com · Hovering When Jeff’s family exited the temple from the Bar Mitzvah service, a girl charged at his daughter with her arms opened wide. The girl knocked

Hovering

When Jeff’s family exited the temple from the Bar Mitzvah service, a girl charged at his

daughter with her arms opened wide. The girl knocked Madison backward, but Madison wasn’t

fazed. As soon as she regained her balance, she returned the embrace with equal exuberance. Jeff

had never seen this girl but knew that didn’t matter. The seventh-grade set exchanged hug-hellos

with mere acquaintances. Even the boys hugged each other. He was glad he’d grown up in a

simpler time when a routine handshake sufficed as a greeting.

When the girls released each other, Madison surveyed the other girl’s dress, which was

cellophane-wrap tight and low-cut enough to reveal far more cleavage than any thirteen-year-old

should have. Jeff’s wife, Sharon, had vetoed Madison’s initial choice for a party dress and had

only approved one with a high neckline and bell-shaped bottom. The envy that dripped from

Madison’s voice when she said, “Rachel, you look gorgeous,” made it clear she wished she

hadn’t been forced to wear something so prim and proper.

Rachel pointed at a bus that all the kids who’d come to the service without parents were

piling into and asked Madison if she’d like to join them for the ride to the hotel for the reception.

Rachel moved toward the bus, but Madison hesitated.

The night before, Jeff had complained to Madison about how little time he got to spend

with her now. If she wasn’t sleeping over at friends’ houses, she was on her computer, chatting

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HOVERING 2

with them. He nudged Madison toward the bus. “It’s okay. Go ahead and ride with them if you

want.”

Madison didn’t respond. With the bus driver nowhere in sight, boys were standing in the

aisle, taunting and shoving each other, while the girls kneeled in their seats and shouted to one

another across the rows. Madison probably didn’t know many of the kids. The Bar Mitzvah boy,

Jacob, was the son of Sharon’s best friend, but they lived in another town. Madison must have

met Rachel at one of the Friday night teen skates Jacob had invited her to.

On the steps of the bus, Rachel turned and took one last look, but Madison told her, “Go

on, I’ll check in with you guys as soon as we get there.”

Once they were settled in their minivan, Jeff tried to make eye contact with Madison in

the rear-view mirror, but she was staring down at her iPod. Sharon was adjusting her bangs as

she eyed herself in the sun visor’s mirror. He reassured her, “This cut looks great.” She frowned,

still convinced her stylist had gone too short.

He liked it when her thick curls were cropped close to her head. It showed off her delicate

ears and the nape of her neck. The last time the three of them had been this dressed up was for

his fortieth birthday, the summer before. He’d had both of them all to himself for the whole day,

as they toured the art galleries and antique shops in Newport and had dinner in a spectacular fish

restaurant.

He leaned forward to eye the cloudless sky through the windshield. “Such a gorgeous

day. Seems like such a shame to waste it inside a hotel function room that probably won’t even

have any windows.”

Sharon arched an eyebrow. “Promise me you’ll make at least a minimal effort to have a

good time.”

“Sorry if I’m not as pumped about this as you are.” Sharon had known Jacob’s parents

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since college, and while Jeff had met a number of Dan and Elaine’s friends and neighbors at

dinner parties or barbecues they’d hosted, he hated making small talk with people he saw only

once every year or so. “It’s just that you know these people a lot better than I do.”

“Yeah, because I make the effort to get to know them.”

Madison told her, “Mom, you’re doing that nostril flaring thing again.”

“Yes, I’m mad because your father’s not being fair.” Sharon turned her eyes back to Jeff

but kept her head facing straight. “I don’t complain when we go to parties with your friends. And

believe me, your friends’ wives are not the easiest lot to get along with.” She examined herself in

the visor mirror again and popped her lips to freshen her lipstick with a vigor she wouldn’t have

if she weren’t so mad. “So, I swear no sullen faces today. I’m not going to have any patience for

your mope act.”

Madison sighed. “Geez, Mom, that’s harsh.”

“Sorry, I just want to make sure you father doesn’t ruin this afternoon for me.”

Jeff let it go. She wasn’t ready to hear his explanation of why that accusation wasn’t fair,

and at least Madison had scored a point on his behalf. It drove Sharon crazy that Madison had

reached the age when girls find fault with everything their mother says and does, but he was

grateful. He now had an ally to come to his defense.

Things were quiet until Sharon looked up in her mirror and then snapped at Madison,

“What you do you think you’re doing?”

Jeff looked in the rearview mirror to see his daughter’s lips were red and she had lipstick

in her hand.

Madison answered, “I thought you said I could wear it on special occasions.”

Sharon shook her head. “I don’t remember saying that.” She turned to Jeff. “Did we ever

agree to that?”

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He couldn’t remember, but he didn’t respond with even a shrug. He’d been as opposed to

Madison wearing makeup as Sharon was. But all through seventh grade, Madison had insisted all

the other girls wore it, a claim he didn’t believe until he stayed in the parking lot one morning

after dropping her off at school and was amazed to see every little girl marching into the building

looking like Tammy Faye Baker. They’d finally caved before she started eighth grade, but they’d

agreed only to eyeliner and mascara – blush and lipstick remained on the forbidden list.

Sharon grabbed a tissue from the glove compartment and handed it to Madison. “Take

that off. I’m not going to show up at this thing with my daughter looking so cheap.”

Madison pounded the seat with her fist. “Mom, you are so mean.” Her voice was

trembling. Jeff checked the rearview mirror for any sign of tears, but her eyes were dry and her

lower lip puffed out in defiance.

Jeff put his hand on Sharon’s thigh. “I think it’s okay.”

“I need your support on this, Jeff.”

“It’s just one afternoon.”

“Yeah, but then she’s going to want to start wearing it to school. And I think the teachers

can’t help but make judgments about these girls who don’t look like serious students.”

“Tell you what, Madison, we’re going to let you wear it, but if we show up at the hotel

and none of the other girls are wearing it, you need to go into the bathroom and take it off. Will

you do that?”

“Yes.”

Jeff asked Sharon. “Is that okay by you?”

She sighed. “I guess,” then added, “I can tell this is going to be a great day.”

Looking into the rearview mirror, Madison mouthed, “Thank you, Daddy.”

When they arrived at the hotel, a greeter inside the door let everyone know the kids-only

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pre-party was being held in the ballroom. Madison bolted across the lobby along with a half

dozen other kids who arrived at the same time. A number of hotel guests were wheeling their

luggage toward the front desk. They looked alarmed as the kids swarmed around them. Jeff

called out for Madison to slow down, but all the conversational chatter across the crowded room

drowned him out. He mustered a “these kids today” frown for anyone who might have noticed

one of those kids was his, but it was still hard for him not to be impressed by the kids’ agility.

They pivoted and spun around every obstructing guest or piece of furniture, letting nothing

impede their progress. A raiding army couldn’t have staged a more effective onslaught.

The ballroom was off limits for adults while the kids partook in their games, but a corner

of the lobby had been cordoned off with velvet ropes, and it offered an open bar.

Jeff whispered to Sharon, “So we get the adult version of airbrush tattoos and musical

chairs.”

Sharon didn’t seem to hear. She was grinning wide as the ladies from her book club

noticed her and waved her over to their table. Sharon took a step forward, but then held her

finger up in the one-minute sign.

“Do you mind if I go chat with them for a bit?”

He gazed across the room. Half the faces were familiar. He took a deep breath and told

her, “Sure, go ahead.”

“And you’ll make an effort to talk to people and not just hover around the edges?”

He couldn’t tell if she genuinely wanted to ensure he’d have a good time, or if she was

just worried about being associated with a guy who appeared antisocial. He reassured her,

“Look, I can make small talk as well as anybody.” The book club women were smiling at them,

eager for Sharon to join their ranks. He pointed at their table. “Go have fun.”

Sharon narrowed her eyes at him, as if trying to gauge something, but the lure of the

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ladies was too much, so she left him.

Most of the men were huddled by the bar. It was warm out, and they were all

appropriately dressed in light linen or seersucker suits. Jeff’s suit was wool – the only one that

had survived the aftermath of his company going business casual and him putting on weight –

and now it was making him hot, even in this air-conditioned lobby.

Three of the guys in a group of four he’d met a couple of times, but he couldn’t

remember their names. As he edged closer to them, a broad-shouldered guy with a shaved head

nodded at him. When Jeff was close enough, he stuck out his hand. “Jeff, right? Your wife,

Sharon, is Elaine’s best friend from college, right?”

Jeff remembered that this guy was a computer programmer, and that’d he been struck

when he met him, as he was now, by how polite the guy was given that he had the thick body

and massive, hairless head of a pro wrestler. Flattered that he remembered his name, Jeff

wracked his brain to come up with this guy’s, but the only thing that popped up was the

possibility of “T” as the first letter, but none of the potential candidates – Tom, Terry, Tim –

rang right.

The guy clearly detected Jeff was stumbling to remember, so he patted his chest and told

him, “I’m Tyler, and this is Carl, Pete, and Scott.” Jeff shook their hands, and each of them

reminded him of the occasion at Dan and Elaine’s – Memorial Day barbecue, midsummer

clambake, anniversary party – when they’d met.

Tyler let him know they’d been bemoaning the Celtics loss the night before. Pete, whose

front teeth looked like they’d been deliberately pried apart, the gap was so wide, wondered if the

ref who’d made the horrible call that cost the Celtics the game had to be escorted out of the

building by security.

Jeff shook his head to commiserate. “Unbelievable.” He kept up with the Boston teams

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only by reading the morning headlines, but he never watched the games because a book or a

movie always loomed as more appealing than committing several hours to watching a few

seconds of action punctuated by long penalty delays and endless beer and car commercials.

He didn’t have much to contribute when the men started sharing their experiences of

seeing games at the Garden. Tyler hated all the “game presentation crap” with Lucky the

Leprechaun doing dunks off a trampoline and cheerleaders sling-shooting T-shirts into the

crowd. He longed for the Bird-McHale-Parrish days when the game was considered enough to

keep everybody entertained. Pete told him he was crazy and that he had no problem watching

“young babes run up and down the aisles with shorts that only come down to here.” He spun

around and sliced his hand into the middle of his right ass cheek.

Jeff laughed at how animated he’d become, and Pete put his arm across Jeff’s shoulders.

“See my boy, Jeffrey, agrees with me.” He pointed at Tyler and added in a conspiratorial tone,

“We should really piss off this ‘ban the cheerleaders’ buffoon by getting a petition together to

beg the Celtics to double – hell, why not triple or quadruple – the size of the cheerleading

squad.”

All the men laughed hard, and Jeff joined in, but then they transitioned into talking about

golf. When Jeff admitted he tried the game once but found it boring. Tyler shrugged, as if

acknowledging the game wasn’t for everybody, but Pete’s nose wrinkled up and his chin jutted

out. He couldn’t have mustered more disdain if Jeff had just confessed to being a pedophile.

Jeff’s stated lack of interest didn’t stop them from bragging about new clubs they’d

bought, complaining about greens on courses they played, and teasing Pete about his “woeful”

putting game. None of them seemed to notice or care that Jeff wasn’t chiming in. When he

stepped away, they closed ranks without acknowledging his departure.

He decided to go to the ballroom and check up on Madison. He’d have to pass Sharon’s

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table to get there, but she must have seen him talking to the guys at the bar, so she wouldn’t be

able to accuse him of being antisocial.

The noise coming from the ballroom – screaming kids and the pounding of a bass guitar

and drums – was so intense the hallway’s walls were vibrating. He pushed open the ballroom

door slowly, worried that he might be immediately reminded adults weren’t allowed in yet, but

no one was standing sentry.

A couple of college-aged girls in matching khaki pants and blue polo shirts were

refereeing a raucous game of balloon stomp. The kids were paired off and each one had a balloon

tied to their ankle. The object of the game seemed to be to pop your partner’s balloon before he

or she got to yours. It seemed an unwise choice for a pack of unruly boys. It wouldn’t take much

for this to quickly get out of hand: someone’s foot getting stomped on, punches thrown.

There didn’t seem to be enough grownups in the room to keep things under control.

Beside the college girl, the only adults were the band members and emcee. The guitar players

and drummer were gray-haired and balding guys in their late forties and fifties, who seemed lost

in their own reverie and determined to ignore the pre-teen frenzy playing out before them. The

emcee, a frail-looking woman in her late fifties with big, puffed-out, Texas-style hair, was more

engaged, as she paced across the stage and shouted into her microphone “we’ve got a winner”

and “loser step aside” every time a duel was settled. Her commitment to matching the kids’

energy level was admirable, but they were only a half hour into what was likely to be a three-

hour party. If she didn’t pace herself, she’d collapse way before the adults came in to hokey

pokey.

Suddenly, from the corner of the room, Madison came racing toward him, with her new

friend Rachel right behind her. Madison barked at him, “You’re not supposed to be in here yet.”

She swung the door open and then put her hands on his chest to push him out. Caught by

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surprise that Madison would actually shove him, he stumbled backwards before he could hold

his ground. She slammed the door shut and he heard the girls giggling. He reached for the door

and for a moment was ready to scream that she needed to treat him with more respect, but he let

go of the door handle and stepped back. She’d never been so rude to him before. The worst

Madison ever called him and Sharon was “impossible” or “mean,” but she never did that when

anybody else was around. Just two Saturdays ago, she’d hooked her arm through his, right in

front of all the tourists, as they strolled in and out of the shops along Bear’s Neck in Rockport.

Today, she was probably just trying to impress this new girl, Rachel.

He stared down the length of the hallway toward the front lobby. He couldn’t see any of

the grownups from this party, but he could hear the mutter of their conversation. He wasn’t ready

to go back there yet. At the opposite end of the hall, there was an exit, so he headed for it.

The door opened to the back of the hotel, which was in stark contrast to the front, where

there were new trees surrounded by fresh mulch and weedless patches of grass. Clearly, the

groundskeeping crew never made its way back here. Garbage flowed out of a rusty, dented

Dumpster and the bays of the loading dock were littered with crushed cardboard boxes. Jeff

glanced at his watch. The adults weren’t going to be allowed into the ballroom til two, and it was

a quarter of now, so he had fifteen minutes before his absence would be noticed.

He headed toward the front, walking along the curb that marked the edge of the parking

lot. As long as he stayed within the lot, he could honestly insist to Sharon that he hadn’t left the

hotel. He walked slowly, not wanting his stroll to go by too quickly. A few pebbles were strewn

along the asphalt. He kicked a few, but they were too small for his dress shoes to make good

contact with.

A town park bordered the left side of the hotel, and at the far edge was a kids’

playground. A few mothers were talking, as their toddlers took turns on the slide. After each ride

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down, the little ones immediately rushed back to the ladder, full of purpose.

He looked up at the trees, searching for birds. The hotel was only a few towns over from

his, but he still might see something that didn’t visit his backyard feeder. Every branch was

barren of any winged life, though, and he didn’t hear even a single chirp.

On the street, an older couple, both in cotton sweatsuits, were taking a power walk, or at

least the woman was. Her husband, who had a substantial gut, was huffing and puffing as he

struggled to keep pace. Jeff hadn’t gotten a chance to exercise himself that morning, and this

little stroll around the perimeter of the parking lot wouldn’t burn even a hundred calories, hardly

a dent in the fifteen pounds he could stand to lose.

A middle-aged couple in matching khaki shorts came out of the hotel. They both had sun

visors on, cameras dangling from their wrists, and determined looks on their face as they held out

a tourist map before the bellman working the front door. A Toyota Camry pulled into a parking

and two women came out. They both had short blonde hair, long noses, and narrow shoulders,

but were about thirty years apart. Undoubtedly, a mother and daughter. They opened their car’s

back doors and pulled out large, gift-wrapped boxes, then rushed toward the hotel, heading for

one of the many function rooms.

Jeff looked down at the asphalt curb. He’d only made his way halfway around it. He

sighed and headed back into the hotel.

The grownups had finally been allowed into the ballroom, and the kids’ food table – with

burgers, hot dogs, and pizza – had been laid out. Jeff scanned the room for Madison. This

morning she’d been so focused on ironing her dress and putting on her makeup that she’d

ignored all their entreaties to eat something. He spotted her with a group of girls in a corner.

When he approached them, he told her, “Honey, why don’t you eat something?”

The girls giggled and scooted past him. Madison put her hands up beside her right eye to

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make a blinder and told them, “I don’t even know this person.”

He considered reaching out to grab her arm, but she got by him too fast. He wanted to

chase after her and ask in front of all her friends why she hadn’t pretended not to know him at

three a.m. the night before when she had a headache. Yeah, she’d come to his side of the bed and

woken him up because she knew her mother would have been annoyed at her for not going to the

medicine cabinet herself. What thanks did he get for being there for her? None. When he

returned to bed after retrieving the aspirin, Sharon accused him of coddling Madison and wanted

to know why he didn’t jump like that for her, and now the little brat he’d taken that abuse for

treated him like a stranger.

He needed another dose of fresh air, but as he was heading for the door, the band kicked

into the B-52s “Love Shack” and Sharon rushed to the dance floor with her book club friends.

When she caught his eye, she waved for him to join them. He knew what would be expected – to

dance with all four ladies – but he hated that assignment. At some point, they’d huddle to make

conversation over the loud music, and he’d be left on the outside of a collapsed circle, looking

like a fool dancing by himself. Sharon gave him a big smile and waved more vehemently, and he

knew he didn’t have any choice but to join her.

Fortunately, today she stayed in front of him and made no effort to make it appear he was

the other ladies’ partner too. She started her shoulder shimmies, and he relaxed into his foot turns

and kicks. He liked dancing and was proud of the fact that he had more moves than the typical

finger snaps and short, quick foot shuffles most guys his age relied on. But out on the dance

floor, Sharon liked to make prolonged eye contact, as though she were hoping for some sort of

mystical union. He wasn’t sure what sort of deep connection was possible when they were

flapping their arms and bobbing their heads to lines like, “Hop in my Chrysler, it’s as big as a

whale and it’s about to set sail.”

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Every time he looked down at his shoes or gazed at the musicians on stage, Sharon

pretend pouted. To ease her disappointment, he mouthed, “You look gorgeous.” She smiled and

he leaned forward to kiss her. When he pulled away, she said something like, “I want more bat

gator.” When he shook his head in confusion, she signaled for him to come closer. He turned his

head to offer her his ear, and she whispered, “I want more of that later,” then pulled at his

earlobe with her teeth.

He instinctively reached up to check his lobe for damage, then looked to see if anyone on

the dance floor – or even worse, Madison – had seen that. She laughed and mouthed one word:

“Prude.”

He was tempted to abandon her and go to the bathroom to check for a mark, but the band

segued into “Electric Boogie.” Everyone rushed to form lines, and he was jostled into formation

with them. Sharon stayed by his side, and he tried to follow her movements as she shuffled from

side to side, then planted one foot, threw her shoulders back and followed that with a forward

step with her shoulders dipped. He successfully managed to copy each move, but then everyone

turned right and he went left and nearly knocked over a little girl with a ponytail and braces. The

girl quickly recovered and didn’t seem annoyed so he rushed to catch up with everyone. Ladies

as old as seventy and as young as five all had the movements down pat, and it was impressive to

watch them move in perfect unison. The only other male on the floor was a fourteen-year-old

boy, who was hopping in his movements with a little too much enthusiasm, but he’d cleared out

enough space for himself to avoid throwing off anyone else’s rhythm.

Jeff felt good as the movements started to make their way into his muscle memory, and

he went through three more changes of direction only a second or two behind everyone else, but

on the fourth turn he stepped on a short, red-haired woman’s foot, and she winced, but didn’t

stop dancing. He quickly backed his way off the dance floor to avoid inflicting any further

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injuries. Sharon didn’t notice his departure as she kept executing the moves in graceful

synchronization with all the other dancers.

The adult food had been put out, so he worked his way down the buffet line, grabbing

salmon and an arugula salad. Their table was in a corner, and it was only half occupied, so he

was able to find a seat by himself. He nodded at the two couples across from him and was

grateful that they didn’t seem interested in making any deeper connection.

The band started playing Dionne Warwick’s “That’s What Friends Are For,” the first

slow song of their set, and Jeff saw a couple of Jacob’s friends partner up with girls. The crowd

was so thick he couldn’t see if Madison was out there with anyone, so he got up and walked to

the edge of the dance floor but still didn’t see her. Then the crowd parted, and there was Madison

with her hand on a skinny kid’s shoulder. A brown-haired, thirteen-year-old in a surprisingly

well-fitted, navy blue suit. A half–formed man who had one of his hands on Madison’s waist. At

least, they were standing far apart. You could have fit a thick pillow between them, but then the

boy dropped his hand a couple of inches below her waist. Jeff wanted to run over and yank the

kid away from his daughter, but then he noticed the other couples. Some of the girls had their

arms draped around the boys’ shoulders as they pressed against the boys’ crotches. Others

looked like drunken sorority sisters needing to be held upright.

Madison was the only girl behaving with any modesty. And she seemed to have chosen

well. The boy was handsome with more sharply defined features than his buddies, who still had

the puffy faces of boys who hadn’t made the full journey through puberty. Like his pals, he did

have long bangs across his forehead with no part in his hair. Jeff didn’t know when parts became

uncool, but whenever he saw the boys in Madison’s grade with their retro, early-Beatles-style

mop tops, he had to resist the urge to wrestle them to the ground, break out a comb, and force

some order into their hair.

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Madison’s partner was making conversation as they danced. She wasn’t responding with

much more than nods. She looked happy but tentative. He, on the other hand, seemed completely

at ease. The other boys had more trouble staying focused on the girls they had in such close

proximity. They seemed more interested in looking over their shoulders and trading smirks and

thumbs-up signs with their buddies.

The kid with Madison didn’t act as if this was the first time he’d done this. Jeff might

have been happier if Madison were paired up with one of the goofy, awkward boys. As soon as

the slow dance ended, these boys returned to their pals and exchanged elaborately choreographed

handshakes. The kid with Madison kept standing by her side. When they did finally separate, it

appeared to be Madison’s choosing, so she could rush back to her new girlfriends.

Jeff went looking for Jacob’s father and found Dan by the food table. Dan asked if Jeff

was having a good time, but Jeff didn’t answer and started pumping him for information about

the handsome, blonde-haired kid in the good suit.

Dan grinned, “Yeah, that’s Tim. A great kid. Star lacrosse player and smart, too. Jacob

probably would’ve have flunked out of geometry this year if Tim hadn’t dragged his butt to the

library every Saturday.”

Dan kept talking, but the words stopping registering. Jeff wasn’t going to have any fodder

to convince Madison she should never speak to this boy again.

He left Dan and went looking for Sharon. He found her on the opposite end of the

ballroom, talking to Elaine’s mother, but she pulled herself away as soon as she saw him coming.

She gave him a big smile. “Did you see what just happened?”

“Yeah, and why are you so happy about it?”

“Our little girl is growing up.”

“Yeah, and too fast. She’s only thirteen. Don’t you think we should tell her slow dances

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aren’t allowed?”

Sharon glanced across the room, searching for Madison, but all the kids were suddenly

gone from the ballroom. “What should we do, lock her in her bedroom until she’s eighteen?”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

She laughed and slapped his chest, but then frowned to make fun of him after she saw he

wasn’t laughing.

“You can’t watch over her every minute.”

He didn’t answer her. He wasn’t in the mood for another lecture on the danger of not

letting Madison learn from her mistakes. Didn’t she realize Madison had reached an age when

the consequences of the mistakes she could make were much greater?

Jeff could never understand how Sharon could be so strict about some things, like

makeup, and so casual about other things, like boys. He often wondered if he was more

protective because Madison looked so much more like him. All of her distinctive features – the

brown eyes, dimpled chin and high forehead -- came from him. None of her mother’s traits – the

curly hair, thin lips or angular nose – had been passed on.

Just as often, though, it felt like Sharon’s contrary opinions on the rules he wanted to

impose were nothing more than an attempt to thwart him. She could justify all of her thinking

from the parenting guidebooks that she constantly read and he never picked up, but it always

came down to the same thing – her opinion trumping his.

He needed to find out what the kids were up to now, so he told Sharon he had to pay a

visit to the men’s room.

Before he could get away, she grabbed his arm. “You know, this is only the start. Soon

it’ll be dating, driving, staying out late. If you don’t learn to relax a little, these next few years

are going to be miserable.”

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To prove that he was capable of having a good time, he pointed to the dessert table that

had just been set out. “Save me a slice of carrot cake.”

The teenagers hadn’t ventured very far off. They’d set up camp in the hallway right

outside the ballroom. A dozen girls were sitting on the floor, oblivious to how wrinkled their

dresses were getting. A few of them sat Indian style, with their hemlines riding high up their

legs.

The boys were standing in a circle nearby, but none of them seemed to notice all that

exposed skin. Jacob was in the center of their pack, with his jacket off, his tie loosened and his

shirt untucked. He pulled his tie up to make a band around his head, and half the boys

immediately followed suit. With the length of their ties drooping down over their ears, they

looked like a band of mixed-up Indians.

Jacob was holding two balloons, and he let one deflate in his mouth. Then he told his

posse, in a Minnie Mouse voice: “I was holding back a fart the whole time I gave my speech.”

The boys laughed uproariously and offered him a round of fist bumps.

Another boy grabbed a balloon and told Jacob, in an even higher pitch, “I’m so proud of

you for becoming a man today.”

That brought another round of fist bumps. The boys shoved one another, as each tried to

grab one of the few available balloons. They looked like a bunch of frat boys, wrestling for the

dying embers of a joint. With disappointment, Jeff realized these thirteen-year-olds weren’t too

many years removed from doing just that. Maybe tanks of helium should come with a warning

for parents that it could be a gateway drug. In fact, Jeff wouldn’t mind if everything these teens

liked – videogames, short dresses, cheap makeup – came with detailed parental warnings about

all that could go wrong if you let your kids over-indulge.

A blue-haired lady in a bright green pantsuit came out of the bathroom, and she looked

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intimidated by the prospect of having to maneuver around all these kids. Jacob took another

balloon hit, then stepped forward and opened his arms to push back his friends and clear a path

for her. He gave her a full-on bow and announced in his squeaky voice, “After you, my lady.”

The woman’s brow furrowed for a moment, but then she smiled as if the show of respect

were genuine and shuffled her way into the ballroom.

When the door closed behind her, Jacob’s pals erupted into whoops of laughter. Jacob

raised his hands and they celebrated with loud-smacking high fives, as if he’d just staged the

greatest act of rebellion against adult authority the world had ever seen.

Jacob pointed at the exit door and shouted, “Let’s head outside, everybody.”

Half the girls jumped up to join the party. One of the boys hip-checked a girl and she

laughed as she skidded across the hallway. Madison and a few of her friends stood, and while

they didn’t rush to catch up to the others, they did follow their lead to the door.

Just as Jacob was about to open the door, Jeff called out, “Hey, Jacob, wait a second.”

The kids parted to leave an open conversational aisle between Jeff and Jacob. Jeff scanned the

boys’ coat pockets, looking for the bulges that miniature alcohol bottles might make. “I think

your parents probably want all you guys to stay in the hotel.”

Jacob glanced at one of his lieutenants, as if he were sending an unspoken message that

the kid should rush into the ballroom and take a quick survey of the parents to determine if Jeff’s

contention had any basis in fact. The kid stepped forward, as if that were exactly the message

he’d heard, but Jacob put his hand out to stop him. He kept his eyes on Jeff as he lifted his foot

behind him to start pushing the door. “It’s okay. My mom’ll text me if she wants me. We all

need some fresh air.” He kicked the door open behind him, spun around and led his followers

out.

Madison was among the stragglers taking baby steps toward the door.

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“Hey Madison, I want you to stay inside.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, go on and head back into the ballroom.”

She stared, waiting for Jeff to change his mind. When it was clear he wouldn’t, she raced

toward the ballroom door, and three other girls from the back of the pack rushed to catch up to

her. They looked excited to be caught up in a new drama and relieved not to have to follow the

boys outside.

Not ready to face the consequences of that little exchange, Jeff opted to take a long, slow

spin around the lobby. When he entered the ballroom again, the crowd was much thinner. The

emcee who’d been stomping across the stage two hours earlier, was now firmly rooted in one

spot. She was still shouting into the mike, but her voice sounded hoarse as she exhorted people to

get up on their feet for Stevie Wonder’s “Superstition.”

He found Sharon by the dessert table again and made sure his tone sounded joking when

he asked, “You been here the whole time?”

“No, they’re just so good I thought I’d sample another one.” She put her hand on the soft

rise of her stomach. “Do you think I can afford it?”

He knew there was only one answer to that question. “Sure, go ahead.”

She grabbed a chocolate petit four, moaned over how delicious it was, then told him,

“Heard you embarrassed Madison.”

He shook his head, frustrated that Madison had spent most of the afternoon refusing to

acknowledge him, but it had still taken her less than a minute to rat him out to her mother.

“The boys are getting out of control. They headed to the back of the hotel. I just figured,

beyond any adult supervision, they’d only get into more trouble.”

“She’d invited one of the girls over to our house next Saturday, but now the girl’s

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cancelled. She says you’re too scary.”

“Who said that?” He scanned the room, as if he were really going to march over to

whoever the girl was and demand she take back what she’d said.

“Relax. At this age, it’s good for Madison to know she’s got a strong father who’ll keep a

tight rein on her.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. He wasn’t a mean, autocratic dad. He used to do puppet

shows for Madison, for God’s sake.

The girls who’d rushed to support Madison after he’d told her to stay inside were all out

on the dance floor now, raising their arms to spell out “YMCA,” but Madison wasn’t with them.

He asked Sharon if she knew where she was. She didn’t and didn’t appear the least bit

concerned about it, so he let her know he’d go find her.

“Why don’t you leave her alone for a bit?”

He didn’t answer her, so Sharon clenched her jaw and puffed out her lips, to imitate his

scowl.

He asked her, “Why are you enjoying this so much?”

“It’s a relief. Finally, I get to come in second on her ‘Parent I Hate the Most’ list.”

He noticed the crowd had gotten even thinner. “Do you think we could leave now?”

She scanned the room for anyone she’d need to say goodbye to, and he told her he’d go

find Madison.

The hallway was empty now, except for a few husbands waiting for their wives to emerge

from the ladies’ room. He headed for the door to the back of the hotel. Madison had never been

the defiant type, so he didn’t expect to find her there with the boys, but he figured he’d better

check anyway. There were no kids back there, only a twenty-something guy in a chef’s jacket

and plaid pants, smoking a cigarette.

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He walked to the front of the lobby and found Madison sitting sideways on a chair,

talking to this boy, Tim, who was perched on the arm of the couch next to her. He didn’t seem

the least bit nervous, and she wasn’t showing a trace of giddiness over the attention. They looked

as relaxed and comfortable as a college-aged couple who’d been dating for years.

“Hey, Mad’, we’re ready to go.”

With Tim’s eyes on her, she didn’t reveal any annoyance over the interruption. She

simply slid off the chair and said, “Okay,” smiling at Tim as she did. No minor notes of guilt or

embarrassment flashed across her face over being caught talking to this boy. She clearly didn’t

think she was doing anything wrong, and for a second Jeff had to wonder why every bone in his

body felt she was.

Jeff decided to introduce himself. The boy gave him a surprisingly firm handshake as Jeff

told him, “I’m Madison’s father.”

The boy looked at him, as if waiting for something more. Jeff wasn’t sure what to say, so

he asked, “Did you have a good time?”

The boy nodded, “Yeah, it was a fun party.”

Jeff kept his back to Madison. He was sure her eyes were sending flaming arrows toward

him.

The kid didn’t appear the least bit scared that the father of the girl he’d just met had

broken up their final moments together. He only looked embarrassed, not for himself but for Jeff,

because this older man before him couldn’t think of anything to say.

The boy pointed toward the window and Jeff followed the direction of his finger to see a

black Audi sedan pulling up to the front door.

“My dad’s here to pick me up.”

Jeff stepped aside to let the kid by. Tim glanced at Madison and told her, “Catch up with

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you on Facebook.”

Madison answered, “Sure. Definitely.”

When Tim reached the door, Jeff decided to follow him. Aghast, Madison threw her arms

up. “Dad, where you going?”

“To introduce myself to Tim’s father.”

He made his way through the revolving door, ignoring the exasperated groan behind him.

Tim’s father had gotten out of the car so Jeff extended his hand.

“Just thought I’d say hi,” Jeff told him. “Your son and my daughter shared a few dances

today.”

The man smiled and exchanged a look with his son. Tim’s expression didn’t reflect

anything – not confusion, embarrassment, or even condescension at how weird this old dude

before him was behaving.

The father nodded, “Well, great, it sounds like the kids had a good time today.”

He jingled his keys and then Tim and his dad got into the car and drove off. All the things

Jeff had wanted to ask Tim’s father came to him in a rush. Surely a man who’d raised such an

incomparably poised kid could share a wealth of secrets with him. Jeff stayed standing on the

hotel terrace and watched the Audi exit the parking lot and turn onto the road, wishing he could

be inside the car with them.