Page 32 of The Singing Trees
“I do have to agree with Bill,” Elizabeth said, saving the moment once again. “Especially someone with whom you share so little in common.”
Mr.Barnes continued to eye her as he stirred his drink, and Annalisa was impressed that he’d been able to keep his mouth shut long enough to let his wife finish a thought.
“Yes, Mr.Barnes, I do understand what you’re saying,” Annalisa said, her anger flaring. “I know that I’m not the ideal girl for your son, me being from the Mills and all.” Finally breaking her glare, she glanced at Thomas. “But I do like him a lot.”
“Well, isn’t that nice,” Mr.Barnes said harshly.
Silence stung the air until Emma began to butter a roll, the knife scraping the porcelain ramekin. Annalisa took a long breath and wished herself away. No wonder Emma excelled at disappearing.
Annalisa felt eyes shooting at her like laser beams. She was no stranger to racism and classism, but staring both traits in the face right now made her realize she’d never been this close to them.
“Feel better, Dad?” Thomas said. “Being an asshole really does suit you, doesn’t it?”
“Thomas,” Elizabeth snapped. “Your sister.”
Annalisa looked at Emma, who didn’t seem to realize she’d been mentioned.
“I do feel better, actually,” Bill said to Thomas. Then, “I appreciate your candor, Annalisa. As much as I like itandyour strength, your mother and I do not approve of a serious relationship. It’s fine if you want to have a little winter fling, but you two youngsters need to make sure it goes no further.”
“Are you kidding me?” Thomas asked, slapping his napkin down and pushing away from the table. He looked at his mother. “Are you really going to let him talk like this? I can’t think of two people more unqualified to offer relationship advice.”
Mrs.Barnes pointed to his chair with a barely audible “Sit down.” She darted her gaze around the room, clearly terrified that they’d made a scene.
“Don’t you talk to us that way,” Mr.Barnes said.
Thomas put his hand on Annalisa’s shoulder and urged her to stand and join him. “Talk to you this way?” he said, the volume of his voiceescalating with every word. “Do you hear yourself? You think you can decide who I want to be with? Oh, howwrongyou are.”
Mr.Barnes sat back in disgust, as if the rest of them at the table had lost their minds. “A strong Davenport family breeds well. Trust me; you two will end up destroying each other. I’ve seen it all my life. Sure, a crush is fine, but once you get to know each other, you’ll see you have nothing in common. I’m sorry to burst your little daydreaming bubbles.” He pounded the rest of his drink.
Annalisa wondered if maybe her grandmother was right, after all. Choosing not to engage further with Bill Barnes, she looked at Thomas’s mother, who stared at her soup like she was trying to part it as Moses had the Red Sea. “Thank you for dinner, Mrs.Barnes.”
Moving on to Emma, Annalisa said, “See you soon.”
Emma shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
Annalisa managed a wink.
Standing, she followed Thomas across the dining room. By now, people had stopped what they were doing and watched the couple take their leave.
Thomas and Annalisa grabbed their coats in silence and spoke only once they were out in the cold under the stars. He turned and took her hand as he marched to the car. Shaking his head in disgust, he said, “I can’t believe him.”
Annalisa squeezed his hand. “They don’t change how I feel about you. It’s okay.”
“No it’s not!” he spat, turning away from her. “Is it really possible to hate your own father? Because that’s exactly how I feel. And my mother just lets it all go down. She’s so weak. No wonder Emma is losing her mind.”
As they drove by the long powdery fairways and the country club faded in the side mirror, Annalisa worried that they both might be into more than they could handle, and it was a long and quiet drive back to the Mills.
When they arrived home, Thomas escorted her in. Nonna sat in the recliner in the living room, watching the news. Nonna’s hearing wasn’t the best, so she’d cranked the volume, something about Fred Hampton.
“Hi, Mrs.Mancuso,” Thomas said over the broadcast, stepping into the living room. “I just wanted to come in and say hello.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Nonna said. A small glass of brandy rested on the table next to her.
As Annalisa went to lower the volume, she heard the newscaster talk about the aftermath of Hampton’s death in Chicago a few days earlier. The Black Panther Party leader’s controversial death had ignited even more uproar from around the country, the Panthers claiming the FBI had raided Hampton’s home and shot him in cold blood as he lay in his bed asleep.
When she turned back to listen to Thomas attempt to charm Nonna, Annalisa was reminded how badly she wanted to leave small-town Maine and all the narrow-mindedness, as had been exquisitely illustrated by Mr.Barnes earlier. How could she keep hiding in this bubble? She wanted to know the truth about what was happening in the world, and the only way to do that was to get out in it.
“My father was a jerk to your granddaughter tonight,” Thomas told her. “Quite frankly, I’m embarrassed.”
