“Golden Boy”

 “Hey Nina, like my new car?”  Tony waved dramatically to me from across the road where he was parked in front of my sister’s coffee shop, The Green Earth.  His father had recently bought him a used, sky blue Chevrolet convertible for his high school graduation present.  Clutching an armload of schoolbooks tightly against my side, my 14-year-old heart sank as I noted with misery beautiful 18-year-old Jennifer seated next to him in the passenger’s seat.  Her long, sun streaked hair shown like gold in the afternoon sun, exactly like Tony’s.  With a disappointed sigh, I trudged halfheartedly across the street to see his new car, not that it interested me.  Vehicles in general bored me senseless, but I had been enamored with Tony since I was six years old.
 “Yeah, it’s nice.”  I attempted a small smile.
 “Nice?”  He grinned boyishly, his handsome face a squint.  “It’s beeeautiful!”  To my chagrin he reached out and patted me on top of the head, like I was a puppy dog.  “See ya!”  With that he turned the key in the ignition and peeled away, the two of them soon lost in a cloud of dust. 
 
 “Now what’s the matter?” my sister Susanna demanded moments later, after I seated myself at a table in her coffee shop.  She surveyed me critically, yet not without a trace of sisterly affection.
 “Nothing.”  I glowered and sighed a little.
 “Is that all you can ever say?  You know, you shouldn’t wear your hair like that.  Why do you always put a bobby pin in the side?”  Wrenching the bobby pin out of my dark hair she flung it savagely into a nearby trash bin.  “It makes you look like a dork.”  She attempted to fluff up my hair a little so it didn’t lie so flat across the top of my head.
 “Gee, thanks.”  Not only did I feel like a dork but apparently I looked like one too.
 My second-to-the-oldest sister, Brooklyn, moved in closer, her arms clutching a tub of dirty dishes she had cleared from a nearby table.  “I saw you talking to Tony out front,” she informed me needlessly with a perturbed smile.
 Susanna immediately zeroed in with interest.  “Tony?  Oh, so that’s it!”  She laughed a little in amusement, anxious as usual to interfere.  “He’s too old for you.  Besides, you’re too young to be interested in a boy.”  She studied me with an air of critical enjoyment.
 “I’m not interested in him!”  It was impossible to keep a secret of any kind, living in a small town with five sisters.
 “He’s nice looking and intelligent too,” Brooklyn remarked thoughtfully, sensitive to the impossibility of my infatuation, yet supportive all the same.  Introverted and intellectual, she had just graduated from college with honors as an English major herself.  “Wasn’t he awarded a full scholarship to Brown University?  He’s a talented cellist, too.”
 “He’s also Polish,” Susanna remarked, accepting the tray of dishes from her sister.  “Grandma would sure like that.  And his father owns The Little Shepherdess.”  Our family was also Polish and the wheels in her mind were obviously turning.  The Little Shepherdess, a five-star restaurant, served only Polish cuisine and was the priciest dining establishment in town.   “Do you think he’d be interested in Celeste?” Susanna pondered, turning to Brooklyn hopefully while ignoring my discomfiture.
 My sister Celeste was three years older than I and attended the other high school in town.  She and Tony barely knew each other.  Having heard enough, I rose up from my chair and disappeared inside the swinging doors to clean the kitchen.
 
 Two weeks later, I inadvertently ended up helping out at Tony’s graduation party at the Community Center, where all the food was being catered by my sister’s restaurant. 
Jennifer was there, of course, and seemed permanently fixed at Tony’s side.  She wore a beautiful sleeveless silver dress and her hair fell in a shining sheet to her waist.  I had dressed carefully myself in a vain attempt to appear older, but alongside Jennifer I felt plagued with insecurities about my looks.  I was at that awkward, in-between adolescent stage and no matter what I did with my appearance, I still looked fourteen.  My arms and legs were too thin and my hair was hopelessly clasped behind the bobby pin again. 
  “Tony, play for us!”  His father clapped his hands together happily and pulled Tony’s cello from against the wall.  Initially he had hoped Tony would become a professional musician, having already invested a small fortune into a music career for his son, but the news about Tony’s intentions to attend medical school had not exactly been received as a crushing blow.
 “Yes Tony, play the piece you performed last month in the city!” his Aunt Bess exclaimed, motioning the guests into nearby chairs.
 I glanced over at Tony almost lethargically as I arranged platters of hors d’oeuvres along the tables set out for the milling people, feeling secretly disgruntled over my serf-like status at only fourteen years of age.  My father, not unlike Tony’s, possessed an obsessive work ethic and had all of us constantly helping out at his bookstore and Susanna’s coffee shop.
 To my surprise, Tony’s normally compliant, cheerful expression appeared rather dour.  He shook his head and leaned closer to his father but I caught the words.
 “Dad, I don’t really feel like playing tonight.”
 “Oh, c’mon Tony,” his father insisted, waving his son’s awkwardness away without as much as a second thought.  “Everyone!  Gather round and grab a chair!”
 With a trace of reluctance, Tony graciously accepted the cello.  He played beautifully, neatly capturing the subtle nuances of the piece.  Stanley stood by with his arms folded across his chest, beaming proudly.  The music brought tears to people’s eyes but from where I was standing I had a clear view of Tony’s profile.  It dawned on me that mine wasn’t the only family with problems.  Tony was not a happy boy that night.

 “How is Tony doing?” I asked his father bashfully, months later, as I dined with my family at The Little Shepherdess to celebrate my grandmother’s birthday.
 “Great!  He’s got a 4.0!”  Stanley smiled readily, quickly handing us our menus.  Although their facial features were similar, the family resemblance ended there.  Tony was tall and graceful while Stanley was a short man accustomed to long days of hard work and struggle to provide for his family.  Tony’s mother died years ago and Aunt Bess had stepped in to fill the void left in the child’s life.  Stanley and Bess were first generation immigrants from Poland and devout Catholics, unlike my family, who left the church years before I was born. 
 “Is he coming home for Christmas?” I managed hastily, anxious to see him again, even though the chasm between us continued to deepen.  I was fifteen now and he was a college boy a thousand miles away.  He and Jennifer had since parted ways; I often saw her with a new boyfriend around town.
 “The day after tomorrow, as a matter of fact!”  Still beaming, Stanley hurried away, anxious to get back to the customers in his crowded dining room.
 My mother regarded me a trifle irritably for troubling the host.  Susanna leaned closer to Celeste and began whispering, motioning back toward Stanley.  Brooklyn smiled sympathetically and my brothers frowned and then laughed over my schoolgirl crush.  My two younger sisters, Andrea and Jeanette, were busy coloring their menus but Jeanette looked up momentarily.
 “I know Tony’s cousin; she’s in my class. She says Tony has a new girlfriend whose father is the president of the university or something.”
 Snatching up my menu I pretended to be interested in the expensive list of entrees, feeling like the world’s most hopeless case of unrequited love.
 
 Tony came home a few days later for Christmas and many times after that.  He graduated from college the same year I graduated from high school.  Every time I saw him, he grew even more attractive, brilliant, and self-assured.  His father could hardly contain his pride; it burst out all over the place at every opportunity.  My father virtually ignored me and the contrast was difficult to tolerate.  Tony always had a wave and a smile for me when we passed on the street but with every encounter I sensed his interest diminishing.  By now, I was too old to be patted on top of the head. 
 Once over the Thanksgiving holiday when I was eighteen, I saw Tony and his family dressed up and getting out of their car in front of the church, apparently attending Sunday Mass together.  I stood watching from across the street as the snow fell in soft flakes all around me while holding a pastry and a cup of coffee.  Despite my vague, family-instilled prejudices against organized religion, I suddenly wished we were still Catholic and all going to Mass together.  As I huddled deeper into the recesses of my coat and sipped my coffee while standing on the deserted street corner, I was surprised to discover I felt like an orphan. 
 The following summer, Tony did not come home.  I didn’t think much about it because his image no longer occupied my thoughts like it had in the past.  My life was taking some unexpected departures from its previously predictable course.  Forced to work my way through college, I dropped out after one year and was busy working several jobs when early one weekday morning I slipped into St. Mary’s, completely on a whim.  It surprised me to discover so many people there at that early hour, apparently absorbed in their secret thoughts.  The following Easter I became a Catholic.
 Now attending Mass every week it wasn’t long before I began spotting Stanley, Aunt Bess, and the rest of the clan filing into the church as well.  Stanley was surprised to see me and hear the news and eventually we began to strike up a friendship.  As it turned out, I began to feel almost as sorry for Stanley as I usually felt for myself.  Tony had been accepted into a prestigious medical school, but for some reason his father had uncharacteristically ceased to brag about the exploits of his genius son.  When Tony returned home later that year for Christmas, I realized why.
 He had changed dramatically, but this time not for the better.  As always, he appeared popular and attractive, but in a slightly twisted, unnerving sort of way.  Oddly enough, the health conscious young medical student now smoked and was surrounded by an entourage of new friends from school, none of whom struck me as particularly studious.  He laughed a lot; in fact, he laughed too much.  At one point, when I managed to get a word in edgewise while standing on a street corner with a crowd of his new and old friends, I informed him that I had become a Catholic.   He could not have appeared more bored with the revelation.  Dragging hard on his cigarette he peered deeply into my eyes and remarked, “Now why in the world did you go and do that to yourself?” 
 
 “How’s Tony doing these days?” I asked Stanley one afternoon a year later, as he shopped for a few items he had run short of in his restaurant.  I had yet another part-time job loaded on top of my full-time job, this time in the local grocery.  I was trying to save enough for a down payment on the abandoned Monforton place outside of town.  I had decided I wanted to become a farmer.
 Stanley set his mouth in a grim line and shook his head.  “Every time I try to call him, he’s not there.”  He appeared fatigued, disheartened, and perhaps a trifle angry.
 “He’s probably busy,” I hastened to explain.  “I’m sure he has a lot of studying to do.”
 Stanley shrugged, looking older than I had ever noticed before.  “If he’s so busy, why is there always music and noise, people yelling, laughing, when I do reach him?”
 I had no answer for him.  Clutching his items to his chest forlornly and casting me a look of desertion in his old age, he headed for the exit.  After he had taken a few steps, however, he turned around and his eyes searched mine hopefully.  “Nina, when he comes home for Thanksgiving, that is, if he comes home, maybe the two of you could get together?” he ventured.
 I seriously doubted it.  His son was even less interested in me now than when I was fourteen, if that was possible, and besides, I no longer even liked the guy, much less fancied myself being in love with him.  It was hard to believe I had ever felt that way.  For once Susanna was right; I had been too young to know what I thought.
 “Uh,” I attempted a smile, choosing my words carefully.  “Well, we’ll see.  Have a nice day, Stanley.”
 Making his way dejectedly out the door, his head was held low in sorrow.  He walked a bit bent over now, as if some great weight had settled upon him.  I turned back to rearranging the vegetables, my smile vanishing and becoming a grimace.
 At Thanksgiving, Tony did come home from school but as it turned out he didn’t need a date after all.  He brought one with him.  Late one afternoon, he showed up at Susanna’s coffee house with his usual entourage of friends and his new girlfriend.  Surveying her critically from across the room, I experienced yet another twinge of sympathy for poor old Stanley.  She was exactly the kind of girl you’d never want your son to end up dating.  Thin, petite, and heavily made-up, she wore a perpetual look of self-conceit and appeared to whine nonstop about everything in sight.  From the looks of all of them, it seemed as though they had come into this world strictly to play.  They laughed too much, talked too loud, and were a disruption to everyone else in the room.  Susanna was furious in no time.
 “I ought to throw your friend out of here,” she remarked, her eyes traveling over to their table for the fifth time in less than a minute.  “He’s really turned out to be a bona fide jerk.  He’ll make a great doctor,” she added angrily, her usual bad mood now in full swing.
 “He’s not my friend,” I replied irritably.  She always took her annoyance out on me.  I hated working for her but I needed the money. 
 Susanna pushed a strand of her brown hair back from her face, wearily busing a table.  “I hear he never lifts a finger to help his father at that restaurant anymore.  He thinks menial work is beneath him now, apparently.”  With a final withering look at her unwelcome customers, she turned back for the kitchen to pull some pastries from the oven. 
 I glanced back at Tony with another weary sigh, recalling how he used to wait tables every night for his father at The Little Shepherdess while maintaining a 4.0 average in high school.  I hoped when he did graduate and become a doctor, he’d practice in another town and we’d all finally be rid of him forever.
 
 “Did you hear about Tony Kolinski?” my sister Andrea asked a month later, just before Christmas.
 “No,” I replied halfheartedly.  I was sure I was going to hear though and that it wouldn’t be good, whatever it was.  Andrea suffered from a penchant for gossip.
 “Well, Jeanette just told me.  She heard it from his cousin.  He dropped out of medical school.  Apparently his father is devastated.”
 Glowering, I shook my head slightly, wondering how much of his hard earned money Stanley had shelled out for all that wasted education.  My own father had refused to pay one red cent for my education.  “What’s he doing if he’s not in school anymore?” I couldn’t help asking, despite my now total dislike for the guy and my aversion to secondhand news.
 She shrugged.  “Evidently he got some great job from a friend of his.  That’s why he dropped out.  He just bought himself another new car and has some super deluxe garden apartment in New York.”
 “What’s the job?” I pressed, somehow feeling doubtful of this sudden good fortune.
 She shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I think she said marketing or something.  His friend’s father lined it up for him someplace.”
 
 The next time Tony showed up in town, he was driving a car that would have paid the down payment on the Monforton place several times over.  Standing by the curb downtown I surveyed the sleek, dark green little sports car resentfully.  I had worked for years now saving every penny I could to buy that old farm and Tony had some crazy job somewhere where he could afford to buy anything he wanted, and what was worse, he hardly seemed to be working that much.  From what I’d heard here and there he constantly traveled to tropical beaches to play with all his friends. 
 I felt tired standing there and staring at his car after my eight hour shift in the grocery.  It would be just my luck if a year from now, when I finally had enough to make an offer on the property, some other rich, ridiculous person from the city would move in and snatch the place up, turning it into a third or fourth home. 
 Hey Nina, like my new car?”  Tony smiled magnanimously as he slid into the driver’s seat, his silly girlfriend close behind.  It seemed like a miracle that the two of them were still together, but then, they did have a lot in common.
 “No, I hate it!” I shouted behind them as they peeled away from the curb, gunning the engine in my face.  They didn’t hear me or care.

 “He doesn’t go to church anymore,” Stanley sorrowed, huddling over his cup of coffee forlornly.  “He’s been living with that… that horrible girl.” 
 We were sitting together at the Susanna’s coffee shop.  I was on a break.  “Well, that might not last,” I attempted to console him fruitlessly.  My words sounded hollow and untrue .  “A lot of people leave the church for a while.  It’s probably just a stage.”
 Stanley shook his head, deep worry lines etched into his features.  His hair had gone completely gray this past year.  I felt terrible looking at him.  “The last time he was here, I hardly saw him.  He doesn’t care about the family or me anymore.  We’re just some kind of a joke to him now.”  Stanley looked up at me knowingly.  “Does he ever talk to you?”
 “No.”  I shook my head.  “But we never were friends,” I attempted to console him.  “Not really.”  I placed my hand over Stanley’s calloused, work worn one.  “At least he’s… well, working.  He’s a big success, anyway.”  I smiled, trying to appear positive.
 Stanley shook his head, his expression suddenly angry.  “A success?  He’s going to end up in prison!  That’s what!  Marketing.  Pah!”

 A year later, I made my offer on the Monforton place.  Fortunately, Lila Monforton, now in advanced old age, took pity on me and it was accepted.  Two weeks after I signed the papers, another offer was made by someone from out of town for twice what it had been sold to me.  But, it was too late.  A deal was a deal.  I’d snatched the place up just in time.
 After Mass the following Sunday I stopped Bess to ask after Stanley.  I couldn’t wait to tell him about my farm.
 “He’s not here, Nina.”  Her expression appeared strained and remote.  “He’s in New York.  Tony’s been arrested.”
 “Arrested!”  I was shocked.  “For what?”
 “Drugs.”  Bess leaned closer, not wanting anyone to overhear.  “He’s been arrested for dealing drugs.”  She looked sad and tired.
 “That’s terrible.”
 “Yeah.”  She nodded.  “Really terrible.”

 He ended up being sentenced to ten years in prison.  Stanley returned from the trial a broken man.  Tony was incarcerated and that was the last anyone ever spoke about it in Farmsdale for a long time.
 
 The years passed rather uneventfully.  I tried to fix up my place, but it required money and skills I totally lacked.  Because of the demands of the falling down, ramshackle structures on the property and the rusted farm equipment, I was forced to work an endless stream of low-paying outside jobs to barely maintain the place.  By the end of every week, I was so tired I made slow progress on any renovations.  Meanwhile, everyone from all the major urban areas suddenly wanted to live in the country.  I constantly had offers on my unfarmed farm and could have sold anytime for a handsome profit.  Everyone wondered why I didn’t.  For once my family had to admit I’d made a smart move, albeit accidentally.
 In addition to my financial and building troubles, a new problem gradually emerged.  After the slow dissolution of my schoolgirl crush on Tony, I just couldn’t find a good match for myself.  By now, all five of my sisters were married and having children.  All I had was my run-down, unfarmed farm and menial jobs for company, which actually worked out to my advantage, because I had no time to date.
 For a long interval I never saw Stanley.  There were two parishes in Farmsdale and I eventually gravitated toward the more traditional one: St. Jude’s.  Since I found little opportunity to dine at a five-star restaurant, our paths never seemed to cross. 
 Finally one day on my lunch hour, we accidentally bumped into each other downtown as I was leaving the post office.  At first he didn’t appear to recognize me but I called out to him anyway.
 “Stanley, hello!”
 He turned around, his expression distracted and withdrawn.  “Oh, hi Nina.”  He still remembered me.  I was shocked to discover how thin and frail he appeared.  I’d heard his restaurant was enjoying a booming business and he’d put away a lot of money but I was unable to detect so much as a trace of happiness in his haggard expression.
 “How are you?”  I felt extremely awkward.
 He shrugged.  “All right.”
 “That’s good.”  I knew I should ask about Tony but was rapidly growing uneasy.   “How’s… how’s Tony doing?”
 “Terrible.  He’s doing terrible.”
 “Oh.”  My breath caught a little in my throat.  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I admitted lamely.  “Really sorry.”
 He shrugged again.  “Yeah, well.  I blame myself.  I ruined him.”
 Alarm filled me and I shook my head as people tried to push by us on the busy sidewalk.  “That’s not true ,” I faltered, studying his ashen features anxiously.  “You were a great father to him.  You gave him everything you had.  My father never paid any attention to me,” I attempted to reassure him.  “You were a good father,” I insisted, shielding my eyes from the bright sun.
 “It’s the same thing,” he replied, his face grave as he studied me thoughtfully.
 “What?”  I wondered if he might be getting a touch senile.
 “I was too proud of him.  Your father wasn’t proud enough of you.  It’s the same thing.”  With that he turned away and disappeared from sight into the crowd. 

 “Well, why don’t you like Casey?” Susanna asked as she rolled out a huge slab of croissant dough.  I was standing next to her in the coffee shop kitchen trying to gently break the news that I wasn’t interested in the recent date she’d set up for me with her husband’s friend.
 Shrugging noncommittally, I sighed.  “Oh, you know.  He’s just a bit old for me.  Besides, did you know he drinks a lot?  I think he’s an alcoholic.”
 “Well, he’s a farmer,” my sister retorted wearily, as if that fact somehow mitigated the alcohol dilemma.  “He could fix up that dump you live in.  He told me he’s crazy about you and so are the kids.”
 “He’s not as crazy about me as he is his bottle.”
 “Look Nina, just don’t ask me to try and help you out anymore.  Don’t expect Larry and me to fix your leaky faucets or frayed wires.   We just don’t have time.  From now on, you’re on your own.”  She slammed the rolling pin down on the wooden table and cast me a dour look, preparing to fold the dough.
 “I never asked you to do that,” I replied with a hopeless doggedness.  It always seemed with my family that we were on a revolving stage.
 Travis, the busboy, appeared.  “Susanna, I’ve got the front all cleaned up,” he informed her as he flashed me a friendly smile.  “Hi, Nina.”
 “Hi.”  He was too young.  I sighed, feeling very weary.  It was nearly time to go unload pallets at the emporium for eight hours. 
 “Hey, did you hear the big news?” Travis began, smiling a little.  “Remember that guy, the son of the man who owns The Little Shepherdess?”
 Susan began rolling the dough out again.  “You mean the one who ended up in the penitentiary?”
 I studied Travis with interest.  “You mean Tony Kolinski?”
 “Yeah, Tony Kolinski.  I heard he just got out.  They knocked two years off for good behavior.”  Travis popped a chocolate cookie into his mouth, still smiling.
 “Is he coming back here?” I couldn’t help asking.  It was hard to believe eight years had already gone by.
 Travis nodded.  “Yeah, that’s what I heard.  His father left yesterday to go get him.”

 After that, I kept a sharp look out for a possible sighting of the former golden boy.  Occasionally, I spotted a few members of his family but Tony was never with them.  I wondered if he had already moved away, perhaps to live with a relative in another state.  Considering all that had happened, one could hardly blame the guy for not wanting to end up back in this small town full of prying eyes, including my own.
 One day at the coffee shop, Gwen, the head waitress, brought the subject up.  We were sitting with two other employees and my youngest sister, Jeanette.
 “I heard his brain is totally fried,” Gwen gushed dramatically, her glittery made-up eyes sweeping around the table, reveling in our shocked expressions.  “A friend of mine said she grew up with him and he couldn’t even remember her when she saw him!  Isn’t that awful?”
 “That’s terrible,” Jeanette admitted, sipping her tea pensively.
 “Maybe he didn’t remember her because it’s been so long,” I muttered, suddenly as tired of Gwen as I was of all the men people suggested I date.  She was constantly passing untrue information along.  I had caught her numerous times telling a blatant lie.
 Gwen shook her head, unconvinced.  “No, ask anyone who’s seen him.  Remember how charming and outgoing he used to be?  Well, he’s just the opposite now.  He never smiles or talks.  It’s because he’s destroyed his brain on all those drugs.  He looks terrible, too.  He’s really aged.”
 “Well, he spent all those years locked up,” Jeanette mused.  “That prison he was in is supposed to be one of the worst ones. That’s what I heard from a friend of mine whose brother-in-law was there for a year.”
 “Well, what’s he doing?” I asked, anxious to get off the subject of the penitentiary.  He wasn’t working with his father at the restaurant, that much was certain.  No one I knew had seen him there.
 “That’s just it,” Gwen responded, as always completely in the know.  “He can’t even wait tables anymore.  He has to work on his uncle’s farm… shoveling manure!” Gwen finished with a flourish, taking a satisfied gulp of her cherry-almond latte.
 He was working on his uncle’s farm.  That was close by The Dump, as the town had aptly renamed the old Monforton place.  He was actually living nearby me now.

 A month later, I finally saw him.  I was headed down Hemlock Road in my old Dodge when I spotted him walking up ahead in the hot, noonday sun.  His long, lanky form and relaxed walk were unmistakable, even from this distance.  For some reason I immediately tensed up.  As my car drew nearer, I descended into a strange sort of immature panic.  Finally, as I passed by I pretended not to see him and simply continued on my way.  Glancing back nervously into my rear view, I noted with relief he hadn’t noticed or recognized me.  He was staring into the distance at the hills as he walked along.
 It bothered me all afternoon, however, and later that night I found myself unable to sleep.  I wondered what the matter with me was. Why hadn’t I at least stopped and offered him a ride?  It must have been 95 degrees outside at the time.   It was a warm, humid night and I tossed and turned guiltily under my light covers.  I began to think about the years he had spent in prison when I hadn’t bothered to visit or write him once.  Ruminating over it all, the hours ticked away into morning.  When I finally did fall asleep, I dreamed I saw Tony and that he had completely lost his mind.
 I didn’t see him again until early fall.  Oddly enough, the entire scenario repeated itself exactly as it had been before at the beginning of summer.  I was once again headed down Hemlock Road in my Dodge when I spied him walking up ahead.  Now the leaves were turning orange and gold, and the temperature mild.  Slowing to a stop, my heart pounded nervously with a hideous mixture of curiosity and dread.  I looked out at him. 
 “Hi, Tony.  Want a ride?”
 He glanced over at me in surprise.  “Hi, Nina.  Sure.  Thanks.”
 He remembered me.  Climbing in the passenger’s seat he managed to crowd his long legs into the narrow space.  With a quick smile, he reached down for the lever and attempted to scoot his seat back.
 “It’s broken,” I admitted regretfully. “Just about everything in this car is.”
 “Oh.”  He nodded, smiling again.
 As usual Gwen had been wrong, way off.  He looked older but was still very attractive.  His face was tanned and freckled from long days spent in the sun.  Suddenly I felt tremendously relieved.
 “How have you been, Nina?”
 “Okay.”  We continued on our way.  I decided to get right to the point, a specialty of mine these days.  “I’ve been fine.  I was really sorry to hear about what happened to you.  I’m sorry I never bothered to write or visit and I’m really glad you’re out of prison.”
 He nodded, glancing away.  On the drive that day he said very little.  That was a big change.  He used to talk all the time.  After sliding out of the car moments later he turned to wave, his expression friendly enough, but deep in his eyes I saw an inward quality of circumspection and gravity that startled me.

 After that, I saw him more frequently.  Occasionally I spotted him at the 7:00 a.m. daily Mass at St. Jude’s.   One afternoon I bumped into him at the library checking out an armload of books.  I quickly glanced at the top one’s cover, Les Miserables. 
 “It’s a great story,” he admitted, his handsome expression almost shy.  I immediately experienced yet another surge of annoyance toward Gwen.
 “I’ve never read it,” I revealed, glancing at the cover.  “What’s it mean?” 
 “The Miserable Ones.”
 “Oh.”  I nodded, trying to think of something else to say.  Silence loomed up instead, however, but he didn’t seem to mind. 
 Finally he cleared his throat and regarded me amiably.  “That old Monforton place is worth a fortune now.  You were smart to save up all those years to buy it.  Are you planning to sell?”
 “No.”  I shook my head.  “I didn’t buy it to make a killing, even though it nearly killed me to buy it.”
 He laughed a little, his expression slightly amused.  “Just want to live there, huh?”
 “Yeah.  I just like to live there.  Do you need a ride?” I asked, hoping he might.   “That’d be great.  I get tired of walking everywhere.  Thanks.”
 As we settled ourselves in the car he tucked his long legs up again and regarded me dubiously.  “You know, you need a truck.  Farmers drive trucks.”
 I nodded.  “Yeah, I know.” 

 We saw each other more often after that.  He’d stop by my farm and help me out with an odd chore or two.  Initially reluctant to accept his help, I soon relaxed and began to feel at ease with the situation.  He didn’t help too much and I didn’t feel any strings attached to his favors.  Still, one afternoon after he finished hanging a door for me, I offered to pay him something.
 He waved me away, brushing his sensitively sculpted hands off on his faded jeans.  I wondered if he played his cello any longer.  “Don’t worry about it,” he insisted.  “It’s not a big deal.”
 “Well, I feel a little guilty.  I could pay you something.”
 He shook his head.  “Nope.  I don’t want anything.”  Settling himself on the edge of the porch to rest a moment, he gazed expansively across the open fields that traveled up to the mountains in the distance.  The run-down place enjoyed a spectacular view.
 “I had this friend,” I began a little reluctantly.  “Actually, he’s your neighbor… Casey Roundtree.”
 He nodded, still focusing in the distance.  “Yeah, I know Casey.”
 “Really?”  I hoped he didn’t like him.  “Well, we were sort of friends and he started coming by when I wasn’t home and fixing things.  He was very helpful.”
 “Then what?”  Tony turned and studied me coolly.
 “Well, then he got mad when I tried to put some distance between us.  He was nasty and insulting and accused me of using him.  He shoved me too, he was so angry.”
 “Don’t worry.  I’m not like that.”  He frowned and swatted a gnat away from his face.  Bees buzzed and sparrows hopped by on the sand, competing with the chickens for bits of seed.   A familiar silence grew.  He no longer liked to talk up a storm, that much was certain. 
  “I never thought I’d get out of that place,” he suddenly revealed, looking out over the waving, empty fields.  “I never thought I would.”
 Not knowing what to say, I kept silent.  We simply sat there together, listening to the insects instead.

 A week later, Stanley spotted me leaving the emporium after work and immediately streaked across the road in record time, obviously anxious to talk to me.
 “Nina!  Wait up!”
 I paused in front of my car parked along the curb, keys in hand.  “Hi, Stanley.”
 He squinted over at me happily, in better spirits than I could remember him being in years.  “Hi.”  He glanced over at my car momentarily.  “Is this your car?”
 “Yeah.”  I nodded in embarrassment.
 “Oh.”  He laughed.  “Say Nina…. uh, have you…”  He paused for a moment, suddenly appearing a little self-conscious. 
 “What?”  I frowned at him in puzzlement.  He hadn’t really spoken to me in years.
 “Have you and Tony become friends again?” he asked hopefully, shading his eyes from the noonday sun.
 I nodded.  “Sort of.  Why do you ask?”
 He shrugged and shook his head.  “Well, because we all went out to dinner the other night and a neighbor who was dining at the table next to us stopped by to say hello…. and well, Tony really went off on him.”
 Suddenly it occurred to me who he might be talking about.  “Gee, I’m sorry Stanley.  I probably shouldn’t have said anything to Tony about it.”
 He waved it away.  “No, don’t be sorry.  I was just surprised to see Tony that annoyed over anything.  We’ve been worried about him.  He’s been so quiet and detached from everything since he came home.  This was the first time Bess and I have actually seen him beginning to show a little life.”  He slapped my shoulder and stood beaming at me.  “Thanks!”

 “You know, Casey was by for dinner the other night and he told me you’re dating Tony Kolinski!” Susanna exclaimed, her expression one of horror as I entered my parents’ living room the following Sunday afternoon for dinner.
 I was immediately on the defensive.  “We’re not dating.”
 “Casey said he actually threatened him in a restaurant!”
 “If I were Casey, I wouldn’t want to mess around with somebody who just got out of prison,” Andrea commented, looking up momentarily from her crossword puzzle.
 My mother appeared shocked as well when she entered the room.  “Did I hear you right?” she demanded of Susanna, her eyes turning back to me in alarm.  “She’s not dating that Kolinski boy, is she?”
 “We’re just friends, that’s all,” I hastened to explain, growing irritated with the lot of them.  “Besides, so what if I was?”
 “Because he’s a drug addict, for one thing!” Susanna shot back, visibly angry.  She’d shown up today in a bad mood and was finally able to vent her spleen.
 My oldest brother, Matthew, squinted over at me, chewing on a cigar he wasn’t allowed to light in the house.  He was the only other sibling who remained unmarried.  “Aw, he’s not a bad guy.  Besides, he’s paid his debt to society, right?”
 “Don’t marry him,” my other brother Jimmy informed me worriedly.  “He’ll take you to cleaners, just like he did his father!”  Jimmy was an investment fanatic.
 Matthew shook his head, waving Jimmy away.  “Don’t listen to him. I heard he’s over at his father’s restaurant every night waiting tables again after working all day on that farm.  His father wants him to take over the place.  It’s worth a fortune.”
 Susanna ignored Matthew’s admissions and shook her head, apparently about to give up on me yet another time.  “Well, I give up,” she admitted, predictably on cue.  “Casey said he’s still crazy about you and he really needs someone to help him out with those kids.  They’re really having a hard time.  If you want to mother something, why don’t you marry him and actually make yourself useful?”

 It was sunset and a very late Indian summer in November as I headed out of Farmdale Feed and Grain, my mood brightening at the sight of the lovely autumn evening.  The hills stretched out to the horizon, a vast expanse of seemingly endless gold.  An unusual sort of peace enveloped me and time seemed to stand still, as if this moment was suspended beyond every other.  Suddenly everything felt glorious, like the world, despite its sufferings, was perfectly in place.
 A car honked from behind and a blue Chevy truck pulled up, idling next to me where I stood by the side of the road.  Leaning out the window Tony smiled, his expression hopeful.
 “Hey Nina, like my new car?”
 I looked at him in surprise.  It was a beautiful truck in very good condition.  “Gee Tony, it’s really nice.  Yeah, I like it.  I like it a lot” I slid my hand across the shiny blue hood in approval.
 “Great,” he responded, looking away shyly as he reached for the passenger door.  “That’s why I bought it.  I was really hoping you would.”