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Any World (That I’m Welcome In) -13- by SammyC
🕑 Added 2024-02-16 19:19:51 +0000 UTCAny World (That I’m Welcome In) – 13
By SammyC
©2023 SammyC
“You turned George down?” Nick asked, dumbfounded. He loudly and dramatically dropped his knife and fork onto his plate, displacing a few blameless green beans.
We were at the dinner table enjoying Mother’s pot roast. Uncle Richie was our guest again, apparently on one of his few date-less Saturday nights. I had casually mentioned that George asked me to the Homecoming Dance that afternoon, at Artie’s hockey game. Both Regina and Mom looked up from their food, expressions of surprise on their faces. Artie, for his part, just continued trying to use his fork like a spoon instead of simply spearing them with its tines, not at all interested in our table talk.
“Tom already asked me,” I replied.
“Gigi, you’ve only been here less than two months, but you gotta know how big George is in school. Hell, he’s the best football player in the state. Syracuse and UConn are already trying to recruit him—”
“So?”
“So he’s on the fast track to pro football. You know how much an NFL quarterback makes?”
“Yeah, but what’s that have to do with me?”
“Sara, do you hear her?” asked Nick. “Gigi, George could be a millionaire in a few years. You know how many years I’d have to work to even make one million dollars? Your mom and I together wouldn’t earn the total of George’s first pro contract in our whole lives—”
“I’m going with Tom. He asked me first…and I like him. He’s nice.”
“Isn’t George taking Winnie? She’ll be on crutches, but we saw her in Miss Julie’s, remember?,” Regina noted.
“Who knows? All I know is he asked me, and I turned him down. I thought about telling him to ask you instead, but you’re going with Billy.”
Nick’s tone was stern, “Tell Tom you’re not going with him. Do it soon. Otherwise, George’ll find someone else to ask. The way kids are these days, it wouldn’t surprise me if a girl straight up asked him!”
“Why would I do that?”
“Gigi! Sara, do you want to tell her, or should I?”
“What are you going on about, Nick?” Mom sounded impatient with the topic.
“I get it, Gigi. You’re really enjoying being a majorette. And Tom is attracted to you. You’re a beautiful girl—”
“Regina is beautiful too, Nick. If anything, George should ask her to the dance. After all, she’s helping him with his math class. If he fails that, kiss Syracuse or UConn goodbye,” Mom interjected, patting Regina’s shoulder.
Ignoring Mom, Nick continued, “As I was saying. Tom’s future isn’t that bright. I know he’s not planning to go to college. He’s got some lame-brained ambition to be a musician. I hear he’s in some rock band even now. Boys like that end up bums and on drugs—”
“You mean like Trent Foster?” Regina sneered.
“He’s the exception to the rule. He grew up with wealthy parents in Pacific Palisades. And he graduated from Stanford, didn’t he? I mean, if Tom’s really serious about his talent, why not study music at a conservatory like Berklee? That way, if worse comes to worse, he could always get a teaching position. You think an unemployed drug addict can provide for a wife and family?”
“I’m not marrying him. I’m just going to the dance with him.” I turned to Uncle Richie for support, but he acted like he didn’t want to get involved in a parent-child dispute.
“You can keep doing your majorette stuff. There’s only a few more weeks to the season left. But I don’t want you getting too involved with that kid. I don’t like him. I don’t trust him. Period.”
“Tom’s a great guy, and you can’t tell me what to do! You’re not my dad!” I got up from the table and found myself shaking from anger.
“I’m your legal guardian, and you’ll do what I say!”
“Nick, it’s just a school dance. And Tom seems like a nice boy—”
“Sara, do you need to be reminded how Regina and Gigi came into the world in the first place? When you were even younger than Gigi here? I’m sure he seemed like a nice boy, too—”
Uncle Richie jumped to Mom’s defense. “Nick, that’s a low blow. I don’t see why you’ve got a bug up your ass about this kid. So he’s not going to college. Doesn’t say anything about his character. Or even his intelligence. He and Gigi like each other. I’m sure it’s not that serious—”
“And what if it was?” I challenged. “I’m 18 next Spring, and I can do whatever the hell I please. I’m not a Tolliver. I’m a LeClerc! If you’re not happy about it, I’ll just move back to Summit. To my real home.”
“Everyone calm down!,” Mom shouted, rising from the table and reaching out to hold me back from leaving the room. “Nick, you’re blowing this completely out of proportion. Gigi can go to the dance with Tom if she wishes. He’s not abducting her, for god’s sake. It’s a school event. They’re not even seriously dating.” She turned to me. “Right?”
“When do I have time to date? I’m barely keeping up with my schoolwork. I’m practicing with the band. I’m taking Artie to school and picking him up after. And Tom plays with his band on most weekends.” I aimed my words at Nick. “I just want to wear a party dress with high heels and go to the dance with a nice boy. Can’t I have that, at least?”
Nick hung his head momentarily. Looking up at me, he replied in a conciliatory tone, “I’m sorry. Gigi. I overstepped. I’m not used to being a parent to teenage daughters. I want the best for you. I want you to be safe. I don’t want you to get hurt. Sit down. Let’s finish dinner. Forgive me, all right? You can go with Tom.”
Everyone sat back down, and the rest of dinner went by quietly. I felt myself still trembling as I realized how everyone around me was truly a stranger to me. And I was a stranger to them. Even Regina, my otherworldly twin sister.
***
On Mondays, the school cafeteria serves Buffalo Chickpea Wraps. Regina and I love them. But most of our friends preferred the same old, same old: pizza. Sitting together at a table off to the side of the room, we munched happily on our wraps, washing it down with chocolate milk.
Tom bounded toward us, holding a stack of paper in his right hand. Excitedly, he plopped himself down on an empty chair and pulled himself up to our table.
“Ladies! You know voting starts for Homecoming King and Queen tomorrow?” We shook our heads and swallowed in unison before Regina replied, “No, we thought they were chosen by the student council and a couple of school administrators.”
“They changed their policy this year. From now on, the King and Queen are elected by the entire student body. Even underclassmen!”
“I’m sure Winnie will win. She’s been running for that since she was a freshman,” Regina laughed.
Passing the stack of paper to us, Tom stabbed it with his index finger. “I’m your official campaign manager. These fliers are going to be on every bulletin board in the building by tomorrow morning.”
We looked at the flier and saw that it urged students to vote for either one of us. One of Tom’s friends had drawn cartoon likenesses of us. Regina was wearing her cheerleader outfit; I was shown in my majorette uniform. They were quite flattering. I guess everyone’s right about us looking like Taylor Swift!
“That’s really nice of you, Tom, but Winnie’s going to win anyway,” Regina sadly observed.
“Don’t be so sure. Everyone’s very impressed with your school spirit. Both of you. And it doesn’t hurt that you’re beautiful…”
Kaitlyn Houlihan, one of the cheerleaders on Regina’s squad, popped up, seemingly out of nowhere, also carrying a stack of fliers in the crook of her left arm.
“Hey, Regina, Gigi, Tom! Just a reminder to everyone…” She hefted the fliers in the air. “Voting for Homecoming Queen starts tomorrow. I know it’s just a formality but I’m putting up these flyers for Winnie. Everyone’s going to vote for her, right?” She scanned our faces.
Tom sourly replied, “Not everyone, Kaitlyn. There are other candidates. Two of them are sitting at this table.”
“You two? No offense, but you don’t stand a chance against Winnie. She was born to be Homecoming Queen.”
“We’ll see,” Tom said. Kaitlyn made a face at him and did an about-face, walking away without saying goodbye.
“I really don’t care about winning,” I declared to Regina and Tom.
Regina mused, “It’s a real longshot, but there’s a part of me that would love to go up on that stage and have that crown placed on my head. Maybe then everyone would accept that I’m a girl.”
I hugged Regina and gave Tom a knowing look.
***
Our school was undefeated through the first seven games of the football season. In light of the heightened interest in the team and the likelihood Rossington High would cinch the State playoffs in November, the administration decided to have our cheerleaders and marching band accompany the team to the three remaining games on the schedule, two on the road, one at home. Where they found the money to hire a second bus, they’ll never tell. That Friday, everyone gathered outside the school to board the bus to our game in Mahwah, only a 20-minute drive away.
Our bus was fully loaded and ready to depart at a quarter after five, and I was still standing on the curb, my majorette hat in hand, searching in the distance for a sign of Tom. It was uncharacteristic of him not to be punctual, so I was starting to worry. Finally, just as I was about to climb aboard the bus, Tom’s mom-mobile tore up the street and screeched to a halt a few feet short of the bus. I waved frantically to him. But he stayed in the car, poked his head out of the passenger side window, and beckoned me to come to him.
“You’re late! We almost left without you,” I told him, standing on the curb and peering into his car.
“Get in. I’ll explain.”
“But the bus—”
“Tell the bus driver you’re coming with me to the field. I can’t idle this car too long.”
After the bus departed, I slid into Tom’s car and shot him an annoyed glare. “What’s the story, morning glory?”
“Where’s your baton?”
“I gave it to Regina while I waited outside the bus. Why are we in your car?”
“I needed the car tonight for after the game.”
“You’re not coming back with us afterwards?”
“No, we’re not.”
“We?” I was reminded of what mom had said about Tom not planning to abduct me. Now, on second thought, it didn’t seem so absurd an idea. “We? What do you mean?”
“You’ll see. After the game. I’m pretty sure you’ll like my plans—”
“Tom, are you thinking about kidnapping me?” The serious look on my face let him know I wasn’t joking. He laughed anyway.
“What? Of course not. Do you think I’m some kind of psycho?”
“It’s just my dad, Nick. He thinks I shouldn’t be involved with you or go to the dance with you. He thinks you’re going to end up a bum and a drug addict.”
“That’s funny. It’s the same thing my dad says.” He popped a CD into the player. Boy, his mom’s car is ancient!
“Don’t be apprehensive. It’s not death metal. It’s Segovia playing some of his favorite pieces by Albeniz. I’ve been trying to learn his unique scales.”
The sound of Segovia’s distinctive bravura performance of Albéniz’s “Suite Española No.1” emanated from the car speakers.
“It has a calming effect on me when I’m driving. Calms the passengers, too.”
“It’s nice, Tom. I’ve always wanted to learn how to play guitar.”
“I can teach you. You can be my prize pupil.”
“I bet you’d be a great teacher. You should apply to Berklee. My dad says, if worse comes to worse, you can always get a teaching position.”
“Now you sound like my mom. You know what they say. Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach. I’m a doer, not a teacher. You can be my one and only student.”
***
Mahwah High School actually put up quite a fight and proved to be a formidable opponent. At halftime, Rossington was tied with Mahwah, 10 all. However, thoughts of the competition on the gridiron were far from our minds, those of us in our tiny but mighty marching band. As a friendly accommodation to the visiting team, they reluctantly parceled out a few minutes at the end of halftime for us to perform our two numbers. Normally, visiting teams rarely traveled with their marching bands. So they told us to do our schtick after their 23-member marching band had completed their set.
There weren’t that many Rossington supporters in the stands, but we played our hearts out for them just the same. Unfortunately, the allotted 20 minutes of halftime elapsed halfway through our performance of “Peaches En Regalia,” and we found ourselves running for our lives off the field as both teams stampeded out to start the Second Half. There were a few sour notes played as the band swerved from side to side trying to avoid colliding with pachydermatous linemen. Admirably, we retained our linear formation, serpentine as it might have been.
A comeback spearheaded by George’s pinpoint passes to Billy Bacigalupo in a final touchdown drive snatched victory from defeat. Billy crossed the goal line after receiving a toss from George in the very last second of the fourth quarter. A point after kick with no time remaining sealed Rossington’s win, 20-19.
An exultant horde of football players, cheerleaders and marching band members piled into the two buses heading back home at a few minutes past 9 o’clock. After telling Regina that Tom wanted to get a bite to eat here in Mahwah, she reminded me to call Mom and Dad and tell them when to expect my return. I reached into the pocket of my skirt and pulled out my phone, showing it to Regina. She smiled and waved, climbing aboard the bus.
“We could have just gotten a slice of pizza back home, Tom,” I chided him as the “short” drive passed the 20-minute mark. Actually, we were outside of Mahwah by now, heading toward Franklin Lakes.
“I wanted to surprise you. Take you someplace special. There’s a great restaurant in Franklin Lakes that serves the best Italian food in North Jersey. Olivia. My parents used to rent a summer place near the lake, and we’d go into town to have the Chicken Cacciatore. Delicious!”
“We’ll get home real late, Tom. I’m supposed to be home by 11, even on weekend nights.”
“We’ll be back by then. I promise.”
“And we’re dressed like this. Does this place have some kind of dress policy?”
“No, just take your hat off when we’re seated.” He laughed, but I was worried. Eating at a Pizza Hut was a lot different from a ritzy place like this.
“I wanted to take you out on a nice date. With your schedule and my gigs on the weekend, there really wasn’t a good time so I took advantage of tonight’s game. My mom even let me borrow her car. She only did it because she thinks you’re the best girl I’ve ever been involved with. We’re involved, aren’t we?”
“Tom…things are complicated, but yes, I like you. I’m not ready to go steady or anything—”
“That’s okay. Any time I can spend with you, I’m grateful.”
The maître d’ at Olivia joked we were early for Halloween and laughed under his breath as he seated us in a corner table. He left us menus that listed every dish by its Italian name, none of which I recognized other than the pasta entrees.
“I’m amazed we got a table without a reservation—”
“I slipped him a twenty. Something I picked up from my dad when we used to show up here without a reservation. We’re lucky they aren’t full up on a Friday night.”
“I like the décor. Very plush. Old world. Even the chairs are nicely upholstered,” I said admiringly.
“From what I’ve heard about your adoptive parents, you must be accustomed to dining in tony establishments like this,” Tom pointed out as he placed his menu down.
“Tom, I’m not that Gigi. Remember? I was Reggie in my original universe…”
“I’ll buy that for a dollar. Look, I realize you’ve got some memory loss and everything, but it’s not funny. You don’t have to make up shit to impress me.”
I was about to pursue the subject, but a couple in their forties walked by our table. The man remarked with a smirk, “Couldn’t wait until Monday, eh? Kids. What are you supposed to be? Fugitives from a marching band?”
I smiled and replied, “You got it in one, sir.”
The woman with him addressed me. “Has anyone told you you look exactly like Taylor Swift?”
“Yes, I’ve been told I do.”
She took a pair of glasses out of her purse and took a longer look at me. She shook her head. “No, no. On second glance, you don’t. You don’t look like her at all!” Her companion pulled her away and nodded good night.
Under my breath, I muttered, “I think she’s had a few too many glasses of wine.”
Tom waited until they were out of earshot. “She looks more like Taylor than you do.”
***
“Where are we going? I thought you were going to take me straight home. It’s past 10:30.”
“Just a small detour. I told you my parents had a summer rental near the lake when I was a child. It’s five minutes from here. There’s a great view of the lake from the shore road promenade. The moon shines right over the water, and you can see the hills in the distance on every side.”
“I don’t know, Tom. My parents will skin me alive if I’m late. Nick is really protective about his girls.”
“We’re almost there. That’s the house! And the shore road’s right around the corner. I’m parking…right here. Look at the view, Gigi!”
I reached into my skirt pocket and pulled out my phone.
“Gigi! Where are you? Regina said you and Tom were going to get a bite to eat before coming home—”
“Mom, don’t hyperventilate! Tom took me to a nice restaurant in Franklin Lakes—”
“Franklin Lakes! That’s a half an hour away. It’s almost 11 now. Your father’s going to be very upset.”
“We…we just lost track of the time. And he’s not my father! Can’t you get him to cut me some slack?”
“I’ll try, sweetie. But try to get back here as soon as possible. He’s watching Game 1 of the World Series right now. I’ll talk to him after the game’s over. But get back quick!”
“I hear you, mom. See you in a bit.”
I turned to Tom to tell him we needed to get home immediately, or I was in deep doo-doo. He planted his lips on mine instead of answering. Resistance was futile as I melted in his arms. Tom can really kiss.
“10 minutes won’t make that much of a difference, will it?” he asked.
In reply, I kissed him back.
The End of Part Thirteen
