All Your Pretty Dreams (19 page)

The thick air inside the
bar pushed against her skull. Too much wine, or not enough. Daria
stood in a tight circle with Lenny and some of the girls. Isabel
made her way through the crowd to get a club soda from Walter.
Things would be pretty quiet in here after the field crew went
home. She wondered if she should mention their departure to the
bartender.

“
Where were you?” Daria
hissed, squeezing in next to her. “I thought I was going to have to
kick Lenny in the balls to get rid of him.”

“
You looked like you were
having a good time.”

“
Look at her,” Daria
whispered, nodding toward the tables. “Fawning all over him.
Disgusting.”

Across the room Monica and
Frances sat next to Jonny. He was slumped in his chair, drinking
beer. Monica hunched forward over her elbows, as if in serious
discussion. Frances glared at them both from behind her stringy
hair. Isabel said, “Poor things.”

“
What do you mean? That
bitch is after your man!”

“
Daria, be quiet. He isn’t
my man. Maybe she just wants to make somebody jealous.”

“
You of course. Is it
working?” Daria outlined her love theory. Monica was hot for him
because she could tell Isabel was.

“
Change the
subject.”

“
I’m going to buy them a
round,” Daria said.

“
Why?”

“
I heard the girls can’t
hold their drink.”

“
Just Frances,” Isabel
said, but her sister was whispering to Walter. In a few minutes the
waitress brought them three beers, and Isabel a large glass of
white wine.

Daria looked smug, sipping
her martini. “Watch and wait.”

Somebody got Walter to
turn on the radio. The rock station from Minneapolis came through
loud and clear. Isabel drank her wine, watching the threesome out
of the corner of her eye.
Threesome?
Ack. Isabel banished the
image of a
ménage à trois
from her mind. She stared down into her wine
glass so long that Walter topped it off, flashing his yellow
choppers.

Daria ran her finger around
the rim of her glass. “Damn, they’re behaving themselves. Oh well.
I have to head back in the morning. When are you finished with this
podunk town?”

“
Keep your voice down,”
Isabel whispered.

“
Egon is still kicking. I
called Daddy this afternoon.” Daria glanced at her. “And gave him a
report on you, just so you know.”

“
Did he send you up
here?”

“
Of course not. You know
that Lenny is kind of cute.”

Isabel looked up, startled.
She had never thought of Lenny as remotely cute. Jonny and Monica
were staring at her now. “What about whatshisname?”

“
Will? Much hotter. I’m
just saying. If Jonny doesn’t come around. If he succumbs to the
wiles of that skank, you don’t want him anyway. His character must
be pretty weak. Look at her. Ugh.”

Monica had laid her hand on
Jonny’s arm. Maybe they already were a couple, Frances be damned.
Maybe Monica had broken up his marriage. That would be right up her
alley. Monica was talking close to his ear as if she wanted to make
sure no one but Jonny could hear. Frances grabbed her beer bottle
and jumped up.

The college students
parted, smirks on their faces, waiting for the show. Frances
tottered to the bar and demanded another beer, guzzling it on the
spot. Monica stood up and called, “Fanny!” over a loud rock anthem.
Frances didn’t turn, just kept drinking.

“
Here it comes,” Daria
whispered.

“
Jesus Mary,” Isabel said,
elbowing her way down the bar. She laid a hand on the tall girl’s
shoulder. “Come on, Frances. I’ll walk you home.”

The girl turned. “Who the
hell are you?”

“
The air is better
outside.” Isabel tugged on her arm but Frances only swayed. Isabel
stepped closer and whispered in her ear: “She’s not worth it. Trust
me.”

Frances turned back to the
bartender. “
Encore
.”

“
Walter. No,” Isabel said.
“Don’t do this, Frances. Go home.”

Isabel felt hands on her
shoulders, pulling her back. She stumbled into Dana and Alison who
let her fall onto the floor. “Mind your own business,” Monica said
angrily, fists at her sides. “Haven’t you done enough
damage?”

Lenny helped Isabel
up.
What the hell?

“
This doesn’t concern you,
Isabel,” Jonny said coldly. “Come on, Frances. You’ve had enough.”
He took her arm.

“
Let go of me!” Frances
screamed. Walter turned the radio down and the room fell quiet.
“All of you, leave me alone.”

The door opened. Ozzie and
Loreen lurched in, laughing. Lipstick was smeared on his mouth.
“Good evening, people,” Ozzie said, still in the burgundy tuxedo.
“Walter, a drink for me and my lady.”

Somehow Monica and Jonny
hustled Frances out of the bar. The music went back to
medium-explosive and the drinking and talking continued for another
hour. But eventually the presence of Ozzie and his lady friend, and
their public display of affection, rubbed even the college students
the wrong way. Yelping like small dogs was heard through the
village as the students walked back to the motel.

Daria threaded her arm
through Isabel’s as they walked back. “Now, that’s entertainment.
For a small town, they do know how to provide excitement for the
out of town visitor. What did Monica mean? That you’d done enough
damage?”

“
I have no
idea.”

“
What’s the hussy’s
name?”

“
Loreen.”

“
She told me that
Frances’s parents are paying Monica to escort Frances around. She
does need looking after but isn’t that kind of mercenary? Do you
think Frances knows?”

“
Paying her?”

“
Two-thousand bucks.
Apparently Frances’s parents go to the church where the hussy
works. And get this! Monica is telling everyone that her father was
an astronaut and he almost walked on the moon. What a
joke.”

“
I don’t remember her
father.”

“
Her mother never married
him. Probably didn’t even know who he was. Just one of many who
warmed her bed and her palm.”

“
Daria.”

“
Oh, it’s true. Her mother
had a career on the ferry boats for awhile, before little Monica
entered the scene.”

“
How do you know all
this?”

“
Do you think there is
anyone we went to school with that Edie didn’t dig out every detail
on, clean or dirty? And after what Monica did to you, Edie made
sure everyone knew.”

Isabel looked at the
shadows on the sagging ceiling. She thought about Professor Mendel,
her classes, the campus. Where would she live next year, who would
she see, would she have friends. The questions went round and
round. Would she see Alec, would it still hurt, would she be
lonely. Would science be enough.

In the other bed Daria
snored softly. Her sister had a huge circle of friends, at least
one boyfriend, a great apartment, parties, weddings, events of all
kinds. Isabel had always pitied Daria, thought she was messed up by
Edie and all that money. Was it possible that dealing with Edie up
close made her stronger, smarter about people, and even— could you
say Daria was happier?

Isabel put her arms over
her head, covering her face. Who was she kidding? Everybody was
happier than she was. The pain of the human condition was crushing
her. Why couldn’t she just be a bee, a drone in society where
everyone knew their place? Why couldn’t she figure out people like
Daria did, or at least find a way to like them and let them like
her?She was like Frances except she didn’t hide behind her hair
anymore or act wacky when she drank. She could see Jonny at the
bar, his look so cold, so accusing. She couldn’t get it out of her
mind. Why did he hate her? Why couldn’t she be the kind of person
people liked, could stay with, could love?

She would just drive away.
There was no crime in that.

Chapter 14

On Monday afternoon, up on
the roof of the Rainy Days Motor Inn, roofing paper was rolled out
and nailed down. Ozzie had gone down the ladder, complaining of
back problems. Jonny just kept swinging the hammer. Better to stay
off the ground, out of the fray.

His father had returned
Sunday afternoon to take down his drums from the party and found
that the sprinklers had soaked them. He ranted at Margaret for half
an hour. She screamed back and almost tossed the newly repaired
snare drum over the fence. In the evening he returned again, just
as they were sitting down to dinner, and looked hungrily at the
table. Loreen, it was said, was not a cook. Margaret smiled
serenely and did not ask him to eat.

Artie and Sonya had come
down on Sunday. Wendy showed up for dinner for once. Nora brought
Claude. But Ozzie was in their thoughts, somewhere eating something
gummy out of a can.

Artie told Jonny that his
boss had called, looking for him. It was time to go back. He knew
it. In some ways he was ready, more than ready. Most ways,
actually.

“
Hey, up there.” The sun
was in Kiki’s eyes. She raised her hand to shade them. Jonny left
the hammer on a pile of shingles, glad for the break. On the
ground, he saw the old blue Cadillac was parked in the alley,
running, Frances slumped inside.

“
Just came to say
goodbye,” Kiki said. The Chichesters had a trip planned to Rainy
Lake. There was time for the girls to hit a couple more campuses
before heading back to Ohio. He waved as they drove off but they
weren’t looking back. Kiki was behind the wheel. Frances draped her
arm across the top of the wide bench seat, her head thrown back as
if exhausted with Red Vine.

The Caddy chugged away.
Cute girl, he thought. Nothing more. Cuppie popped into his head,
unbidden, in clogs and a ruffled skirt, her knees dimpled. Kiki was
way cuter. But he didn’t care about seeing either one
again.

That evening he went back
out to the Anderson farm and talked to Lowell again. On Wednesday
afternoon a flatbed truck drove slowly into town, carrying a
listing, rusty old grain bin. The truck turned down Apple Way, then
left on Beechnut, and stopped in front of the Rhodes house, an
elegant, pale green Queen Anne with a wraparound porch, carriage
house, and huge backyard. In the driveway, waiting with
hand-trucks, was the extended Rhodes family, Leonard Senior, Lenny,
his cousin Pete, Pete’s two friends, and assorted
neighbors.

Jonny jumped out of the cab
of the truck. Sliding the bin down a plywood sheet they lifted it
onto the hand-trucks. At the end of the driveway they carried it to
a weedy plot where Patsy Rhodes grew zucchini and rhubarb before
she got arthritis.

Lenny began examining the
rusty spots and rubbing them with steel wool. “You’ll start
tomorrow, right? There’s only a month or two of good weather
left.”

Jonny stood in the solemn
heat, feeling the warm earth expelling its moisture. “We can get
the exterior done. The windows and doors in. Seal the
roof.”

A summer shack for Red
Vine. Maybe that was all they needed. He left to pay the truck
driver, then walked slowly back to Birch Street. He’d told Roger
Walker, the lead architect, he’d be back to work on Monday. He
would come back here for awhile to work on the grain bin. A fun
little project, nothing more. Something to keep him busy on the
weekends.

The college students were
leaving at the end of the week too. He hadn’t seen them since the
night of the Rose Rave. Maybe tonight he’d go to the bar, wish them
all well. Lenny had rented a sand-blaster to scour rust off the
bin. Jonny found a cool old door at the antique store on the
highway, and heard about a couple windows that had been taken out
during a remodel in Blue Earth. The bin was ready for its new life.
The bin had prospects.

At ten o’clock the Owl Bar
was almost empty. Walter said a few of the students had come by to
say goodbye, but most were busy packing. He wiped the bar in
endless circles, his face long. His best summer at the bar, ever.
And it was over.