Silver Sparrow

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Four thousand? Five?” Daddy said. “But I am just talking out the side of my neck. I don’t know nothing about this kind of thing. You ever want a party like this, Buttercup?”

“It’s too late for me to have a Sweet Sixteen, Daddy. I’m seventeen already.”

“You could have a Sweet Eighteen.”

“Doesn’t exist,” I said.

“Graduation party?” Daddy suggested.

“Not my speed.”

Uncle Raleigh said, “I was thinking about for Laverne.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “This kind of stuff gets on her nerves. She turned so many spiral curls last week that she had to wear a brace on her wrist.”

“It’s different,” Daddy said. “It’s different being the guest of honor.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “She isn’t real y like that.”

“Maybe she is,” Uncle Raleigh said.

“She’s not,” I said. “I’m sure of it.”

“We’ve been knowing Laverne a lot longer than you,” Daddy added, and together they chuckled.

“She hates fancy parties,” I said. “I’m with her al the time. I know how much she hates them.”

Uncle Raleigh said, “By my calculation, it’s coming up on the twentieth anniversary of the Pink Fox.”

“There you go,” Daddy said.

They smiled at each other and turned their faces to me. There was no chal enging them.

“We’l tel her it’s your idea,” said Raleigh

“I thought it was supposed to be a surprise party,” I said.

“She won’t like that,” Daddy said.

“Verne does not like surprises.”

“That’s the truth,” Daddy said.

And there was no arguing. They had been knowing Laverne a lot longer than me. And with the matter settled, they went on to other topics. To Uncle Raleigh, Daddy said, “We could probably make some good money if we could bring back the photography angle to the business.”

Uncle Raleigh poured a little puddle of raspberry syrup on his plate and dunked the tines of his fork. “Nope, Jim-Bo. No. No. No.”

“How come?” I said. “You like taking pictures. Teenage girls like having their picture taken. Their parents like spending money. Seems like a good deal al around.”

“I don’t want to take prom pictures,” Uncle Raleigh said. “I want to be evocative.”

Daddy said, “Evock in your spare time. Think about it, man. People are going to col ege next year.”

By people, he meant me.

“Where do you want to go to school?” Uncle Raleigh asked.

“I’m thinking about Mount Holyoke,” I said.

My father and my uncle looked at each other. “You d-d-don’t say,” said Daddy.

“It’s stil early,” Uncle Raleigh said, more to my father than to me. “It’s stil early.”

AFTER WE PAID the check, we headed back to the Hilton. Daddy sent me in at eleven thirty to see if things were winding down. On the ride up to the twenty-third floor, I straightened my col ar and smoothed the accordion wrinkles from my skirt. The bul et-shaped elevator was glass, al owing me a ful view of Atlanta. The door opened and I looked around for the Magnolia Room. It took a couple trips up and down the carpeted hal way before I ran into Mr. Grant, Ruth Nicole Elizabeth’s dad. Tiny comb tracks made roadways in his Bil y Dee waves.

“Witherspoon!” he said, after patting down the pockets of his brain, trying to remember my first name. “I almost didn’t recognize you with your hair down.”

“Hel o, Mr. Grant. I just came up to see how things are coming along.”

“It’s a beautiful night,” he said. “Go on in and fix yourself a plate.”

“Oh no, sir,” I said, tugging at my hem. “I’m working tonight.”

“Don’t be sil y,” he said, putting his arm around my shoulders. Mr. Grant smel ed nice, like good cologne and cognac. I knew that I smel ed like fried food and cigarettes.

“You are such a pretty girl. Such a young lady.” He kissed me on the top of my head and gave me a little squeeze around the tops of my arms.

“Go on in. Enjoy yourself.”

He opened the door of the Magnolia Room, leaving me no choice but to step inside. For a moment, I was queasy with a wave of deja vu, as this was the setting of one of my nightmares. In the dream, I walk into a fancy party. Everyone else is dressed for prom, but I am fat and wearing a two-piece bathing suit. My stomach sags over the leopard-print bikini and I am afraid to raise my arms because everyone wil see that I haven’t shaved.