Рита Браун: Nine Lives To Die

Tyler, with some reluctance, tagged along with his father, who was determined to start the young man early on the ways to please women. He bribed Tyler by promising he would take him to the Apple store to buy a new iPhone.

“Dad, you’re not going to buy Mom anything from in here?” Tyler felt miserable as his father marched him through the aisles of Victoria’s Secret.

“No. I’m looking. The day will come when, if you’re smart, you’ll buy a special woman special lingerie. It makes her feel, uh, beautiful, and she appreciates that you think of her that way. Just park that in the back of your mind.”

Outside the store, Lou determinedly strode to a high-end men’s store. Tyler couldn’t imagine being with a woman that way. He liked the girls in school who, like him, were computer nerds or liked chem lab. One girl in particular, Yasmine Dulaney, sat next to him at the lab. She was a year older, smarter than smart, and they could talk endlessly about the properties of sulfuric acid or why and at what rate iron rusts. For Tyler, connections started in the mind. For Lou, with women, they started below the belt. While connections have to start somewhere, Lou’s approach, direct and simple, might lead to more. Tyler, slow, halting, uncertain, in time might have a better way to approach girls. But girls, at this point in Tyler’s life, were a separate species.

The oaken walls and display shelves, enhanced by a woodsy scent artfully released from tiny nozzles hidden throughout the store, inspired Lou to buy a three-ply cashmere sweater in a heavy heather.

“Tyler, I’ll spring for a turtleneck if you find one you like.”

Smiling shyly, the thin young man said, “Dad, I’m going to hit you up in the Apple store.”

Lou smiled back. “I just bet you will, Son. I just bet you will.”

The two had traipsed through the many stores for two hours. Lou did find a bracelet for Arden. Large lapis lazuli rectangles set in gold. It wasn’t cheap, but it was a wonderful Christmas gift. Even Tyler admired it and said, “Mom will love it.”

Checking his watch, Lou commented, “I’m done. Checked off my list. Okay, your turn.”

With a brisk step, Tyler headed toward the Apple store. None such existed in Charlottesville, although one could buy an Apple computer at the University of Virginia bookstore, but only if a student, or a member of the faculty or administration. So everyone else had to hit the road, and Richmond was closer than the Washington area, plus the drive was considerably more pleasant. Once in the orbit of Washington, traffic clogged, people flipped the bird at one another, and too many horns blared. Lou always said those were not true Virginians, but who knew? Even Virginians were not immune to an erosion of manners under driving and shopping duress. Those who worked for the government endured even more duress, or so it seemed.

Thinking he had lucked out on the drive, at least, Lou walked into the store with his son, who zoomed directly to the iPhones.

Picking up a gold one, he said, “This is it, Dad.”

Immediately Lou checked out the price. “Not too bad.”

“Yeah, but I want,” and Tyler rattled off such a long list of apps that Lou’s eyes glazed over. “And, Dad, I need to get a cover for the glass. Gotta protect your investment.” Tyler tried to talk his father’s language.

“Uh.” Lou’s head ran up calculations while the overworked salesperson nodded that he would reach them as soon as he finished with the prior customer.

Lou eyed the many covers, some more expensive than others, but all overpriced to his mind. “The phones are cheap. They hit you up on all the other stuff. What a damned cash cow.” Lou knew chargers for the car, and different ones for the house, would also be added to the bill.

“Once it’s loaded, that’s it. And they’re fast now, Dad.”

“Right.” Lou could use about anything techie.

It was the cost that choked him.

Tyler carefully scanned the various covers, picking out a hot turquoise.

“Don’t get that.”

“Why?”

“It’s girly. Get something dark. Black leather.”

“If I buy a bright color, I’ll always find my phone.” Tyler picked out a hot pink.

Lou practically slapped it out of his hand. “Never! Buy the goddamned black leather one or I’m not paying for a thing.”

Tyler did as he was told.

Outside, Lou looked at the few snowflakes twirling down. “Let’s hit the road. Maybe we can get home before it really comes down.”

Saying nothing, Tyler opened the door after his father unlocked the Acura. They drove in silence for ten minutes; cars and trucks had their lights on. Most people adjusted for the weather. A few idiots still fired down I-64 at seventy-miles-plus.

Finally Lou said, “The phones are so thin now. Back in the eighties, they looked like small bazookas.” As his son remained silent, Lou became falsely cheerful. “Wait until you pull your phone out. The guys at school will want one, too. You’ll be the first.”

“I’m not the first, but I’m close enough.”

“Cool stuff.”

“Right.”

“Tyler, there’s a logic to what you said about being able to find your phone, but believe me, you’ll thank me for making you get the black leather. You don’t want guys looking at you sideways.”

“They don’t look at me at all. I don’t even exist.”

“Of course you do. You’re not real outgoing, but you’re really bright, Tyler. And success is the best revenge. Just wait, you’ll beat all those dudes to the bank.” Lou laughed.

Tyler wanted to say, “Does everything have to be a competition? I don’t care what other guys think. I don’t care what you think. You don’t know me.” But he didn’t, of course.

As snow fell outside, people young and old danced in the ballroom at the Keswick Club. As partygoers entered through the front door, a brand-new Ford F-150 sat right out front, bright red, though becoming covered with snow. Given the weather, Pete Vavilov put the raffle drawing sign inside the front door on an easel. Those supporters of Silver Linings who had paid a thousand dollars for a ticket were each given a key. Near the end of the evening, each one would get inside the truck. Whichever person had the key that started the truck would win it.

Inside, downstairs, a fat blue spruce festooned with colored balls, garland, and twinkling lights announced it was Christmas, as if all the other decorations did not. Arden Higham, in charge of the color scheme, had outdone herself. She and her team found and copied Victorian pictures of sleighs in the snow, beautiful ladies with their hands in muffs, reindeer, Scottish terriers. The entire spectrum of what was popular during those times formed the table centerpieces. Small baubles hung from sconces and a sleigh filled a corner, overflowing with gifts for the boys. Silver Linings worked with young men, twelve through eighteen, most of them from poor homes headed by single mothers.

St. Cyril’s, the Catholic church in Crozet, allowed the organization to use its rec room. Tonight Father O’Connor—young if not a bit portly—beamed at the turnout. Although Silver Linings operated independently of St. Cyril’s, the association was close.

Brian Hexham; Pete Vavilov; Lou Higham; Coach Toth; Nelson Yarbrough, former UVA quarterback; and many others mentored the young men, coached them in various sports leagues, and brought their own sons to the activities. The original idea was to pair a privileged boy with an underprivileged boy, a buddy system, but the boys found their own compatriots. Over time the natural buddy system faltered and a more accurate buddy system took its place.