Love on the Back Burner

by Barbara Oliverio

  “Ma, have you heard much about what the kids from my class are up to?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  We were seated at the small table in the break room of the nursery assembling sandwiches for lunch. I wanted to get more information on Brady, but knew if I asked directly that it would lead to a firing line from her and Pop.

  “No reason, Ma, I was just wondering.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know, Alexandria. Some of them I see. Sometimes I talk to their mothers when I see them here or at Mass or Ladies Guild. Some of them finished college, some didn’t. A lot are married.” She looked at me pointedly.

  “Who’s getting married?” asked my father as he walked into the room drying his hands.

  “No one,” said Ma. Was it my imagination, or did she say it with an attitude? Hey, what happened to the Ma of last night who seemed so proud of me?

  “Kids get married too young, if you ask me,” said Pop as he started on his meatball hoagie. “And have babies too soon.”

  “Really? You guys had the three of us when you were pretty young. What’s wrong with having a baby?”

  They both stopped chewing and stared at me.

  “Are you trying to tell us something?” asked Pop.

  “Are you PREGNANT? Is that what’s wrong with you?” asked Ma as she crossed herself.

  “No.” I looked up from my sandwich and glared from one to the other. “NO-O! But thanks for the show of support if I was.”

  “Ally-Cat, we’re not being unsupportive.”

  “I don’t know, Pop, Ma almost whipped out her rosary beads there.”

  “Don’t be disrespectful.” He tipped his cap back on his head in Pop-like fashion. “Your mother was just trying to make sense of what’s happening with you.”

  I knew I had to clear up the pregnancy scare very quickly before my father had a heart attack. Twenty-first century or not, he still preferred to think of me in the plaid schoolgirl uniform innocently making plans for the eighth-grade picnic.

  “Don’t worry Pop, no bambinos here.”

  I figured this was the best time, however, to tell them about my job situation, so I began, “The thing is—”

  “Uncle Marco?” broke in my cousin Joey as he poked his head into the break room. “We got a situation out here. This delivery is jacked up.” Joey had worked efficiently at the nursery for many years, and if he felt there was a “situation” that required him coming for the boss, it must be bordering on level-one crisis.

  “Be right out, Joe.” Pop wadded up his sandwich wrappings, and Ma began her well-organized table-cleaning routine.

  “Alex, I’m sorry, I gotta get out there. We’ll talk after dinner, baby girl?” He kissed my forehead and dashed out.

  Ma added, “Let’s talk at home, eh? Less distractions.” And she was off to join him.

  I always admired the way they worked side by side as a team and was not surprised that she wanted to get out there to be with him to handle whatever crisis might be occurring. I only wished I could have that kind of relationship someday.

  Back home, after I determined that Nonna was in her own rooms catching up on her afternoon soap operas— or “stories,” as she called them—I deposited the eggs in the refrigerator and put the lunch containers in the dishwasher. Then I gathered my Bishop Dolan High School yearbooks together and sat on the porch swing to reminisce.

  I immediately went to the senior section of my last yearbook to review the classic head shots. Wow! Attending parochial school gave us the merciful sameness of clothing in those pictures. I remember whining about it at the time, but not even a decade later, I was glad not to be immortalized in the fashion choices that forever stuck us in the time period.

  But dig those hairstyles. What were we thinking? Unlike most of my classmates, though, I had short hair, pretty similar to the look I still sported. Come to think of it, I hadn’t had long hair since, what, kindergarten?

  And the boys—look at those coats and ties. Some of them weren’t even smiling, as if the weight of the formal clothing held them down.

  There was Brady Doyle, though, lazy grin across his face. Let’s see, what was his senior quote? “It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.”

  Pretty heavy stuff for a seventeen-year old.

  There I was. My earnest young face tilted upward, forever caught in a hopeful smile. I leaned back on the swing to think about what those blue eyes were hoping for. Love? Success?

  My phone buzzed.

  “Hello.”

  “Seriously? What are you doing, mooning around some gothic mansion or something? What kind of melancholy ‘hello’ is that?”

  “Keira, you always know how to cheer a gal up.” I smiled at the sound of my best friend’s banter.

  “Well, it’s my job,” she sniffed. “What is happening there in Smallville?”

  “Thank you, City Slicker. You forget that I have been to where you grew up out in the wilds of suburban Denver.”

  “Ah, but the key is that I grew up in a suburb of a city. You grew up in a suburb of a suburb of a suburb.”

  I could hear the grin in her voice.

  “I will not rise to the bait,” I said. “In any case, thank you for your ‘concern.’ I’m doing well. The family says hello, by the way.”

  “Awesome. I assume they are supporting your crisis with many cups of tea and plates of pasta.”

  “Well …” I hedged.

  “Alex, don’t tell me you haven’t told them about what’s going on with you.”

  “Don’t judge me, Keira. It’s too hard to come out and tell them that I’ve lost a job AGAIN, here on the eve of the big family celebration.”

  Keira sighed. “First of all, you haven’t lost a job AGAIN. You make it sound as if you were sent packing for embezzling corporate funds. Technically, you haven’t lost a job AT ALL. You still have your job. It’s just been relocated.”

  “Yeah. To Phoenix”

  “I know we went over this before, but you realize that you have options, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Auntie Keira, I realize I have options. I just don’t want to make the wrong choice is all. Besides, no matter what I do, I’m going to end up disappointing my family.”

  “Just your family? Are you sure you’re not disappointing your entire hometown, too, Drama Queen?”

  “Funny you should mention that. I ran into a high school friend and had to tap-dance around the whole issue of being in town early. That’s all I need, to have the gossip lines buzzing.”

  “Is she that kind of person?”

  “Well, no, actually he wouldn’t, but still—”

  “Oh ho, he? Who was it, an old high school sweetheart?”

  “Come on, Keira.”

  “Why? Did this guy grow fat and bald? Too ashamed to talk about him?”

  “Well, actually, he got better looking, if that’s possible, but that’s not the point—”

  “Details, please.”

  “Here, I’ll show you.” I snapped a shot of his senior picture and texted it to her.

  “Wow, and he’s gotten better looking than this?”

  “Uh-huh. But you’ve seen him from a distance when you’ve been in. He’s a town cop now.”

  “Ohh! Right, I do remember. He’s pretty dishy.”

  “The whole Doyle clan is good looking.” I thought about Brady’s two sisters and four brothers. Nope, I couldn’t think of one dud in the bunch.

  “So, did you talk with Officer Blondie for long?”

  “Really, Keira, you and your nicknames. Actually, he invited me to a get-together tonight.”

  “You’re going, right?” I heard the swoosh of an automatic door, then the roar of traffic. Keira must have stepped outside whatever building she was in.

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure I’m up for it.”

  “Listen, kid. You can’t sit at home moping in one of your Steelers jerseys all weekend.” How well she knew me. “What can it hurt to visit wit
h some folks?”

  “Keira, I rarely visit with kids from my class when I come home. I’m pretty sure they think I’m stuck up.”

  “You? Impossible. I’m sure you’d have a great time.” More sounds indicated that she was entering a cab. “Listen, I need to review some paperwork before I get to my meeting. Go to this get-together or party or whatever. I expect a full report tomorrow.”

  “Aye, Aye, captain,” I laughed. “Talk to you tomorrow. Thanks for calling. You really cheered me up.”

  “It’s my job, pal!”

  Pete’s Corner Bar was an institution in my hometown. On any given night, the crowd ranged from college kids home on vacation to office workers ready for happy hour to regulars who had occupied the same stools for decades.

  Beer, wine, well drinks, and a limited menu of burgers, hot dogs, nachos, and french fries were all you could get here. No discussions here about gluten free, fat free, or anything free. Pete’s was a real old- fashioned corner bar.

  The jukebox here didn’t carry any songs newer than 1976—woe to anyone who asked for anything newer. Pete himself was a proud graduate of Bishop Dolan High School back in the early seventies, and memorabilia from his football career was displayed around the bar. Not much else lined the walls, other than a few bedraggled Christmas decorations that were year-round features. Two pool tables were never empty, and Pete had only just reluctantly upgraded his dartboards—about fifteen years ago.

  Pete himself checked IDs from his perch at the door and collected drivers’ licenses. He carefully placed them between the pages of a well-worn copy of an ancient Reader’s Digest. You were told the page where your driver’s license resided. If at the end of the evening, you couldn’t remember the page, Pete assumed you were too drunk to drive home and he called you one of the two cabs in town. You could return the next day to pick up your ID. It had been the system at Pete’s for decades, and no one in town questioned it.

  Putting off my discussion with my parents once again, I dined with Anthony and Celia that night, then went to join Brady and the gang. I walked into the noisy establishment to the strains of the Doobie Brothers and handed Pete my Colorado ID.

  “Coloradah? We don’t allow no foreigners in here,” he said with a grin.

  “Oh Pete, you know you’ve known me forever,” I smiled back.

  “I know, girl. One thing, though. Don’t tell me you went out there and turned into a Broncos fan!”

  I placed my hands on my chest in mock horror.

  “Bite your tongue! The Steeler Nation is alive and well in my house! Why, on Sunday afternoons, the streets are painted black and gold in my neighborhood.”

  He threw his head back and roared.

  “That’s what we like to hear!” He opened the Readers Digest and slipped my ID in. “You’re on page eighty-eight. Lynn Swann’s number. Get on in there and tell Annie to give you a drink on me.”

  I surveyed the room and saw the top of Brady Doyle’s head. He was crowded into the back booth. I hesitated to walk toward him, but he turned and saw me. He jumped up and whistled through his teeth, motioning me back.

  “Get back here, Alex. We need you to settle something for us.”

  I made my way through the crush, and Brady pulled me into the booth, the prime one that had the most space. He was there with his younger brother Brian, who everyone thought was Brady’s twin and whose arm was clutched tightly by longtime girlfriend and now wife Melissa. Also in the booth were Danny Madia, Jake Murphy, Travis Shea, and Todd Martin—Brady’s usual crowd.

  “Gang, Alexandria just got in from Denver, and we’re lucky to have her with us for the evening.”

  “Alex!” the guys cried in unison and raised their beer bottles. Melissa, I noted, declined to cheer. She had always been the type of girl who thought every other girl in the room was after Brian.

  “So, Alex,” Brady said as he draped his arm across my shoulder. “You were always the smartest girl in class.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” I said.

  “No, no. Don’t be modest,” Brady said. “We need you to settle this.”

  He leaned closer as if to draw me into some conspiracy, and asked, “If you could only have one movie for the rest of your life, I say it should be The Godfather and Danny here says it should be Star Wars I. What do you think?”

  “Well, both have their merits.” I didn’t want to point out that what Danny thought was Star Wars I was actually the fourth movie in the cycle. That was the type of geeky statement that sometimes got a person greeted with a blank stare. Just when I almost came up with a witty comeback, I was saved by Melissa.

  “For pity’s sake, you guys have been arguing about that all evening,” she whined. “Can’t we talk about something interesting?”

  “Sure, Buttercup,” Brian assured her in the tone of a man who was used to giving in to his domineering wife.

  The table settled into an uneasy quiet. Then Brady very softly began humming the theme to The Godfather under his breath, and everyone but Melissa burst into laughter. That was the type of high jinks that Brady was well-known for throughout school. Cop or no cop, he hadn’t changed much.

  “Excuse me,” Melissa sniffed as she pushed Brady and me out of the booth to get out, pulling Brian by the arm with her. “We need to get home.”

  Brian took a last frantic pull of his beer as he scooted out of the booth. “Uh, yeah—guess we have to go. Good to see you, Alex.”

  They were off, Melissa stomping on her high heels through the bar and Brian trying to catch up to her. I felt uncomfortable.

  “Wow,” I said and tried to lighten the mood. “I didn’t realize she was such a Star Wars fan.”

  The guys chuckled.

  “Ahh, she just gets like that sometime. She’s okay,” said Danny, who I remembered as unsuccessfully having tried to date Melissa throughout high school.

  “Sure, sure,” I said.

  “Hey. More importantly, where is your drink?” asked Brady and motioned our server over.

  “Alexandria!” said Annie. Annie had worked at Pete’s since she graduated from Williams High School, the same year I had. Williams was the public school in town, so we didn’t cross paths much. She did, however, have a giant crush on Damian, so she and some other Williams girls usually “accidentally” dropped by the house during his American Idol days.

  “Hey, Annie, how’s it going?”

  She flipped back her long, brown, spiral-permed curls. “You know, just keeping it real. How have you been? How’s Damian?”

  “Still a priest, Annie.”

  “Let me know if that changes, will ya?” she grinned. “What’ll you have?”

  I caught myself before I ordered my favorite, a Dirty Martini. Pete’s just wasn’t a Dirty Martini kind of bar.

  “Bring me a white wine, please.”

  “You always were fancy.”

  Really? House wine, fancy? Oh well, I smiled inwardly, that was Annie.

  “How ‘bout you boys?” She upped her game as she leaned over for the guys at the table. “How can Annie help YOU?”

  “We’re good just looking at you right now, girl!” leered Jake.

  Hmm. Didn’t my mom tell me that Jake had gotten married last year? Where was his wife? I never had a problem with a bit of casual flirting, but this was a little much. She blew him a kiss and went to retrieve my drink.

  A whistle came from the pool tables.

  “We’re up,” said Danny. He, Jake, and the other two went to play their match.

  “So, City Girl,” Brady addressed me, “you never told me why you’re in town so early. Ever since you moved away, you usually haven’t had a lot of time for us hicks.”

  “I told you, I came to help Nonna bake the cookies. And since when do you pay attention to my comings and goings?”

  “I’m a cop, remember? We all get reports on these things.”

  I punched him in the shoulder. “Come on.”

  “Seriously, your mom and my mom tal
k at Ladies Guild. I think my mom is hoping you will move back here, and, well, you know.” He shrugged and took a pull of his beer.

  Ah, that was it. The Ladies Guild. No need for Match.com or eHarmony in my hometown. The mamas at the Ladies Guild kept track of who was single and available, and who they thought would be a good couple.

  I KNEW for all my mother’s talk about how she and Pop were proud of how I had moved away and made something of myself that she would be happier seeing me back here, settled nearby. I didn’t really want Brady to think I pumped my mom for information. (Though, come to think of it, wasn’t I doing just that earlier in the day?)

  “Oh you know Guild talk,” I said.

  He spun his beer bottle in his hand, staring at it.

  “Yeah, just Guild talk.” He slid out of the booth. “Let me track down Annie and get you that wine. And I need another beer. Woo-hoo! Lynyrd Skynyrd! Turn up that jukebox, Pete!”

  Hmm. Brady Doyle? Who knew?

  “Who knew?” I said to Keira.

  “Wait a minute, when I said you had options, I didn’t mean you had to go and ADD another option.”

  “Since when do you get to decide that?”

  “Uh, kinda since you’ve made some pretty bad romantic decisions lately.”

  “Keira! I never appointed you the head of my dating approval committee.”

  “Somebody needs to be,” she mumbled.

  “What did you say? Your phone almost cut out. And where are you anyway?” Her signal was not as clear as it had been throughout the rest of her trip, plus I could swear I heard a GPS voice system occasionally.

  “Never mind where I am, where are YOU? As in where is your HEAD? You can’t seriously be thinking about moving back to Smallville and settling down with Officer Goodbody.”

  “Smallville? Officer Goodbody? That’s stretching it even for you.” I peeked into the house to make sure no one from my family could hear this conversation. Ma and Pop had gone to work, and Nonna had gone to an early weekday Mass.

  “Say, how is it that you’re calling me so early? You should be three hours behind.”

  “Never mind about that. Please, please, PLEASE explain how this small-town romance kicked off.”