Red’s Hot Honky-Tonk Bar

by Pamela Morsi

  She went out to the patio. Old Señor Puentes was lying on his back underneath the stage as he directed his grandson, who was probably nearing thirty, as to which lines to disconnect. Within a half hour, they’d moved the breaker box to a free-standing pole, shut down everything live attached to the stage and the old man declared it safe to move the stage. The orange-vested crew and their noisy machines had fallen silent, waiting.

  Red went outside to find out what was going on and was surprised to see so many of her regulars standing around. Hector and Casey were there and the Grisholm brothers. Loop was there, too, and even Alfred, who had brought his mama with him. J.B. was standing closest to her, so she directed the more universal question to him.

  “What are you doing here in the middle of the afternoon?” J.B. shrugged. “We heard you needed some help,” he answered. “I guess we all wanted to be in on it.”

  She was certainly glad. When Cam and his friends gathered around the platform to move it, the willing bystanders were the ones with the best idea. The construction crew offered their help, as well.

  They managed to get plywood sheets underneath the stage and scooted it onto the bricks of the patio and past the chalk mark that Ernie and Cam had come up with together.

  The guys shouted in triumph at their success and the audience of patrons of the bar applauded their efforts.

  Red smiled as best she could and thanked everyone profusely, but she couldn’t help noticing that her patio space had diminished significantly. The stage now seemed oversize for its proximity to the customers.

  “Karl, could you draw these fellows a beer on the house, please?”

  “I sure can,” he answered. “Belly up to the bar, boys. The redheaded gal is buying.”

  That produced more jokes and laughter as everyone filed inside. Karl turned to her.

  “Shouldn’t you be going?” he asked.

  “Going?” She looked at him, clueless.

  “You told me that you needed to be off tonight.”

  “Oh, damn,” she said. “I forgot. It’s Howdy Night.”

  12

  Howdy Night was the first big school event of the year. It involved a parade down Broadway of kids and teachers and school groups led by the Alamo Heights High School band. That was followed by a carnival, with parents and teachers manning booths where students could toss beanbags, knock over milk bottles or play musical chairs.

  Olivia was frantic when Red arrived home late.

  “I was getting ready to go without you!” she threatened angrily.

  “I would have called if I couldn’t make it,” Red assured her, hoping it wasn’t that much of a lie. “And Kelly would have taken you.”

  “We’re not supposed to go with our babysitter. We’re supposed to go with our parents.”

  Daniel was also jumping in place with excitement he couldn’t contain and chattering in a mix of English and Spanish. Red picked up the word parade and a reference to his teacher, Mrs. Reardon.

  “What’s with Daniel?”

  “His teacher picked him to ride on the first-grade float, but we’re probably going to be so late he’ll miss it.”

  At his sister’s words, Daniel suddenly went still, his expression crushed.

  “We’re not going to be late,” Red assured him quickly. “And we’re leaving right now.” As if to emphasize that plan of action, she marched over to the door and opened it wide. “Let’s go!”

  After a mere instant of hesitation, the kids rushed out. Red was not unaware that she was still dressed in her uniform of the day, skintight capri pants and a green glitter tube top. She grabbed the first blouse she saw in the closet and hurried after the children, putting it on as she trotted down the street.

  There was nothing much she could do with her hair. She didn’t have a pin or a scrunchie or a rubber band. She didn’t even have a shoelace. She pulled it all forward down her left shoulder and began braiding it as tightly as no mirror and fast walking would allow.

  They made it to the parade rendezvous just as the line was starting to move. Olivia and Daniel were racing down the length of it, frantic to find his teacher’s group. Red had no choice but to run, as well. She was completely out of breath when the kids finally stopped in front of a flatbed trailer, festooned with trim in primary colors. The homemade float had a huge painted cardboard book opened at one end. Red couldn’t tell if the image portrayed was supposed to be the kids going into the book or spilling out of it.

  Finally there, Daniel froze, as if he was preparing to have his hopes dashed again. When Mrs. Reardon caught sight of him, she smiled and called out to the driver to hold up. When he was at full stop, she held out her hand.

  “Oh, Daniel! There you are. Our float wouldn’t be complete without you.”

  Red could see her grandson’s shoulders relax as he reached for his teacher’s hand and hurried to take his place.

  “We’ll be bringing all the children to the school grounds after the parade,” Mrs. Reardon told Red. “Meet us under the blue-striped awning. And please be on time,” she admonished firmly. “I don’t want any of the children to miss the fun because they’re stuck waiting for their supervision to show up.”

  Red nodded. “I’ll be there.”

  “Now, hurry on,” she said, much more lightly, adding Olivia to her audience. “You need to find a great vantage point for the parade.”

  Red barely had time to assure herself that Daniel was indeed seated and his float was moving. She waved at him, but he didn’t even notice.

  She turned to see Olivia had disappeared. Red headed frantically in the direction they’d come, only slowing when she spotted her granddaughter ahead.

  Olivia wormed her way through the crowd to find a perfect spot. Red trailed after her. It was not a great mass of people, but there were enough parents, grandparents and students to create an unbroken line along the few blocks of the parade route.

  All around her there was talking and laughter. It imbued Red with a sense of camaraderie. They were all there to cheer for the kids. By the time she could hear the band music floating up Broadway, Red was as excited and eager as the children.

  The procession turned out to be exactly what it purported to be—a line of crepe-paper-strewn trucks, antique cars, marching Boy Scout troops and rows of pint-size twirlers in red lamé and sequins.

  The members of the board of education rode in convertibles supplied by the local Camaro club. The Little League champs were in the fire truck. And the high school’s cheerleaders led their mascot mule, who seemed much more interested in the bag of oats over his nose than the cheering fans on the street.

  When the first-grade trailer went by, Red looked for Daniel. She didn’t see him right away. Then she realized that the laughing, happy, animated little boy who was throwing candy to the crowd was the same cautious ball of uncertainty that lived in the house with her.

  She waved at him and felt a strange clutch in her heart when, grinning, he waved back.

  Maybe he was waving at Olivia, she thought. That must be it.

  When the last float passed, the crowd surged into the street, everyone headed for the school grounds. Red didn’t want to lose Olivia this time and grabbed for her hand. Her granddaughter looked up at her sharply, brow furrowed, but she didn’t let go.

  At the school grounds, it was as if a tent city had sprung up overnight. There were booths of all kinds, with games to play and food to eat. Participants were scrambling to get everything set up even as the crowds arrived.

  “Look!” Olivia pointed out a particular site. “Face painting. I want to get my face painted. I want something really pretty, like a butterfly or a rainbow or something with all the glitter on it.”

  Her effervescence genuinely surprised Red. Bridge had been such a completely responsible little person. She’d begun to think of Olivia as exactly the same, but Bridge would never have allowed herself the frivolity of a butterfly on her cheek.

  “Sounds great,” Red answered. “But we
have to go meet your brother first.”

  Olivia nodded, her tone more sober. “Yes, you’re right. We have to do that,” she agreed. “I hope the line doesn’t get too long.”

  The return of the dutiful big sister was deflating. Red wanted to fix that.

  “We both don’t have to waste time at the blue-striped awning,” she said. “You go ahead and get your face painted. I’ll find your brother.”

  Olivia looked up, uncertain.

  “Can you do that?”

  “How hard is it to wait for a six-year-old?” Red asked rhetorically.

  “Okay,” Olivia said. “I won’t leave the school grounds. I won’t go off with anybody I don’t know. And I’ll stay with a group as best I can.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Red agreed. “Do you need cash?”

  Olivia looked incredulous. “Oh no. I save my allowance for this sort of thing.”

  “Of course you do,” Red said, managing not to smile. “Have fun. Make some friends. Daniel and I will catch up with you later.”

  Olivia raced off and Red continued through the grounds, looking for the blue-striped awning. She almost thought that she’d missed it, when she spotted it up ahead. There were numerous parents standing around, but the children had yet to show up.

  There were a few fathers in the group. They varied widely in age and appearance. Some were handsome, tanned and in golfing shirts. Others had obviously just come from the office, sleeves rolled up and ties loosened. There was one guy in surgical scrubs. And another in military fatigues; an officer, she noted.

  The women were closer in age than the men. Although they varied in height, weight, race and complexion, they somehow managed to all look very much alike. Appropriately dressed for the occasion, each woman was wearing perfectly creased capri pants of khaki or some other neutral. These were topped by designer button-downs from Talbots or Nordstrom. Hair that had been carefully and expensively highlighted was pulled back in ponytails with deliberate unconcern. Tory Burch flip-flops and understated jewelry completed the look that might have been described as somehow desperately casual.

  Red straightened her blouse and surreptitiously adjusted the neckline to hide the green-glitter tube top that was peeking out. Then, a bit more confident, she went to the corner of the awning and stepped just inside.

  “Is this Ms. Reardon’s first-grade pick-up spot?” she asked a mother with a sleeping infant in a stroller.

  The woman nodded.

  Red gave a slight smile as a thank-you and then deliberately turned to face outward. It was easier to pretend a great interest in what was going on around them than to have to make eye contact with the Stepford Moms.

  After a couple of long moments, as Red stared out at the crowd and resisted the impulse to tap her foot, the woman behind her spoke up.

  “Do you have a child in Mrs. Reardon’s class?” she asked.

  Red turned to her. “A grandson, Daniel Lujan.”

  “My daughter is Mia, Mia Carson,” the woman said. “I’m Sarah, and this is Elliot.”

  The child in the stroller was still sound asleep and listing to one side.

  “Elliot doesn’t seem too impressed with the festivities.”

  The mom laughed. “I’ve learned not to get too used to it. It can end really abruptly.”

  She seemed to relax and Red did, too.

  “So, what committee is your daughter on? Or is it daughter-in-law?”

  “Daughter. Committee? I don’t know what you mean.”

  “For the class,” Sarah said. “Everybody’s got to be on a committee for the class.”

  “My daughter can’t be on a committee,” Red told her. “She’s overseas in the military.”

  “So the children are with you?”

  “Ah…yes, we’re living in a house just a few blocks up—”

  “Are you on a committee?” she interrupted.

  “Me? No, I—”

  Sarah stepped closer and grabbed Red’s arm. “Oh, please be on the Cupcake Committee,” she whispered frantically. “Please, please, please.”

  Red was momentarily speechless.

  “There’s no one on it but me and Tasha Shakelford. Please, please.”

  “I…ah, I don’t know how to bake, really.”

  “You don’t have to bake,” Sarah insisted. “We’ll buy everything from Cupcake Cabin.” Her voice softened to a whisper. “I can’t be on the committee by myself with Tasha. She hates me. Please, I’m desperate. For sure Mrs. Reardon will get you on a committee. Be on Cupcake Committee with me. I promise, you won’t have to do anything.”

  “Well, I…ah…”

  “Here they come,” someone said behind them and all attention was suddenly focused on the line of wide-eyed but well-behaved six-year-olds being led through the crowd.

  Under the blue-striped awning, chaos erupted. Not from the children, who were orderly and obedient and eager to follow directions, but from the parents who all surged forward to retrieve their child, assuming that everyone else would allow them to be first.

  Mrs. Reardon, who was so sweet and soft-spoken with the first graders, was extremely firm with their moms and dads, insisting that she personally hand off the students to their respective adult.

  Sarah was the third person called. As she hurried to pick up Mia, she glanced back toward Red. Using her hand to mimic a phone, she indicated that she would call.

  When Daniel was turned over to her, Red took his hand and smiled at him, hoping to see that great, happy grin once more. But Daniel looked decidedly uncertain, not saying a word but glancing around nervously.

  “Olivia is getting her face painted,” Red told him. “We’re going to catch up with her. Does that sound okay?”

  Daniel nodded, apparently reassured.

  They made their way through the crowd. Daniel loved it. Occasionally he would see something that compelled him to spew a slew of excited Spanish, but mostly he just pointed and smiled.

  They spotted Olivia easily, though she now sported a huge pink-and-purple butterfly on the left side of her face that included her glitter-decorated eyebrow as part of the design. She was standing in a group of chattering girls about her age. As they walked up, Red could not avoid hearing the conversation.

  A tall blond girl wearing very short shorts and an elaborate French braid pointed to Olivia’s feet.

  “Cute shoes. Where’d you get ’em?”

  “Uh…my mom bought them for me at the PX.”

  “Oh.” The girl frowned as if that was the strangest thing she’d ever heard. “Mine are Nine West Kids.”

  “Hi, girls!” Red said as she and Daniel stepped up to the group.

  Daniel was blurting out a big explanation of some sort to his sister.

  Olivia answered him offhandedly.

  “You speak Spanish?” one of the other girls asked. “Me, too. I was in Spanish immersion, back before I tested into Gifted and Talented.”

  Olivia chose to ignore that piece of information and instead fell back on good manners.

  “This is my grandmother and my brother, Daniel,” she said. “This is Mixon, Carly, Jocelyn and Kaya. Kaya’s in my class.”

  “Hi,” the four girls responded in unison.

  “Daniel and I are going to get something to eat and then he wants to ride the pony. Are you hungry, Olivia, or do you want to just hang here with your friends?”

  “I’m starving,” Olivia answered and turned to offer a quick goodbye to the girls. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  They headed toward the food booths, which to Red’s surprise seemed to be less about hot dogs and hamburgers and more about turkey franks and vegan sprout wraps.

  The three finally agreed on spinach tamales with chipotle salsa. Red got them settled at a picnic table, with food, drinks and plenty of napkins.

  “I’m sorry to take you away from your friends,” she said to Olivia. “Did you have a good time?”

  “Yeah, it was all right,” she said. “They’re not
really my friends. The only one of them that I really know is Kaya and all she can talk about is the Jonas Brothers.”

  “Are they in your class, too?”

  Olivia and Daniel shared a quick, shocked looked and then burst out laughing.

  “What?” Red asked. “What?”

  “The Jonas Brothers are a band,” Olivia told her.

  Daniel was still laughing, his mouth wide open. “Abuela Tanta!” he said.

  “I understood that, Daniel Lujan,” Red told him. “I know what abuela tanta means.” Her tone feigned a threat, but she was laughing with them.

  Her terrible day had somehow dissolved into a distant annoyance. And it felt strangely like progress for Bad Grandma to have become Silly Grandma.

  To: buildabetterbridge@citymail.com

  September 16 4:24 p.m.

  From: Livy156@ABrats.org

  Subject: School

  hi Mom! I love you 2! Thanks 4 the email. I always remember how busy you are, but if I don’t hear from U, well its bad. But I did so its good. Daniel sends his love 2. Course he’d never say anything, cause he just doesn’t. He still cries at night sometimes but dont worry. He wouldn’t let nobody hear him. He tries to be a big boy like you told him.

  School is great. Its like the school on the base but bigger and different. My teacher is very cool. Her name is Ms. Gomez. She looks like she could be someone on tv. She has the most awesomist clothes ever. Mixon says she must have a rich husband because teachers don’t make enough money to afford hot cature. Hot cature means fashion. Mixon knows a lot about fashion. She is not in my class, but everybody knows her. She pretty much runs the school. At least among the girls. The boys are enemies so they don’t count. Mixon doesn’t like my clothes much. And I don’t think she likes me. But she REALLY likes Ms. Gomez and Ms. Gomez likes me so its all even-steven.

  The bad grandma is doing some better. We don’t see her so much now that we have school. But why does she half to dress like that. Its embearussing. I miss Abuela. I miss U 2!

  Keep drinking your orange juice and email me when you can. Dont worry about us. I am taking care of Daniel and me fine.