Prince by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 11
As Polly neared un-noticed, Mom was washing off her dinner plate in the kitchen sink and Dad was sitting at the table talking animatedly; “It should be so easy to convince the board of that stupid bank that transactional banking is an inefficient relic of the past and that relationship banking will be the more profitable wave of the future.”
Mom was silently nodding her head with her back to Polly and Dad, probably because she had heard this more than once before. He continued; “And with interest rates at historic lows now is the time to make the investment in the software ......”
Polly was still exhilarated and felt a bit silly. She laughed a bit and said; “You mean, like, you’re supposed to love your bank or something?” She covered her mouth with her hand to half hide her amusement and saw her mother’s belly contort as if she were getting ready to puke.
Dad put his head on the kitchen table and covered it with one hand as he was taught to do in grammar school nuclear safety exercises. After a few seconds he looked up at Polly and smiled, saying; “Some codger on the board basically said the identical thing to me, using other words he learned when a BS in Finance was a big deal. You have unlimited potential, little girl.”
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Polly corrected him and said; “Woman.”
Mom’s stomach exploded and a noise came out of her mouth that resembled; “Fffttumum.”
Dad gave Polly a little sideways glance and said; “You said it was okay to be my little girl.”
With a perfectly straight and perhaps indignant face Polly said; “I thought you understood that that’s when we’re alone.
In company please refer to me as woman. Female’s okay. No girl, lady or stuff like that and little girl is totally out of the question.”
As Mom turned to observe her precocious or excessively politically correct or comedic daughter, maybe all three simultaneously, Dad looked at Polly blankly, his mind a mixture of amusement, surprise, un-sureness and the realization that he was taking the same posture when he wanted to hide his pro-feminist attitude in public, in his case devoid of the possibility of humor. He turned to Mom for help and when he interpreted her silent look was one of pride he saw that the next move was his. He didn’t know what to say, but opened his mouth hoping that the right words would come, forgetting that that was as likely to happen as the Bush administration finding Bin-Laden. He’d even have settled for superfluous words thinking that he could always make the appropriate
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clarifications later depending on what retort or retorts he received.
Polly performed the miracle he needed when she smiled and ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck and gently squeezing. She said; “You’re so serious about this.” She held on a bit, saw him beaming, then broke away and added; “But how can you be serious about people loving their bank?” She put two fingers down her throat, but stopped short of gagging or spitting up.
Dad smiled faintly, nodded his head slowly and then in an overly low baritone sang; “To dream the impossible dream.” He returned to what passes for normality and asked Polly; “Has Prince been behaving himself?”
Polly’s silence and eyes on the ceiling indicated; “Stupid question.”
Dad said; “You know, ummmmmm ....... He hasn’t attacked anyone yet, right?”
Polly looked at the tiled floor and thought; “He’s kind of attacked me once, but that was a tiny accident not worthy of an out and out ‘attack’ classification and I don’t want to say that because it will create the wrong impression. He’s also warned a few people and dogs, in no uncertain terms that that would be the next step if they continued their ‘aggression.’ Very American and acceptable. Anyway, I probably could have held him
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back had things gone that route. But, I don’t want to say that either as it might take a lot of explaining and nothing good could come of it.” So after fifteen seconds of floor observation she said; “No,” sounding a bit like Barney Fife, when nervous on The Andy Griffith Show.
Mom and Dad stared at her with wrinkled brows and Polly again said; “No,” this time with the confidence of a marginally talented, beautiful starlet known for television commercials.
Mom closed one eye and followed up with; “He hasn’t drawn blood, has he?”
Polly wished there was a question that she could simply answer a simple “No.” She exhaled and this time looked at the tongue-in-groove ceiling boards, thinking; “He hasn’t drawn anyone else’s blood, but he got a little of mine. The way this third degree has been going they know something is up. Maybe I should settle for this one.” She blurted out as if she were annoyed and she was; “He accidentally got my finger once.” She showed them the band aid and added; “Big deal.”
Mom said; “Are you sure that’s all he got?”
Polly was relieved, thinking; “Finally, an easy question,”
and raised her voice to announce a resounding; “Yes!” She then realized that she had responded to the last question in the context of the “attack” scenario and not the seven words on their own. She considered asking her mother to rephrase the
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question, but decided to let things stand as they did when she saw that her parents were through with their examination and appeared momentarily contented. She saw that the truth was not as simple a concept as most would have you believe. They say;
“Just simply tell the truth.” Sure. She sarcastically asked;
“Is it okay if I go change these clothes now?”
Mom said; “Sure. How did they get so muddy?”
Already near the stairs, without thinking Polly called back; “Prince pulled me through the mud.”
Startled, Dad stood up and said; “He pulled you through the mud?”
Polly ran up the stairs and pretended not to hear.
Prince was entertaining his own thoughts of truth as he sat on his haunches in the quiet back yard. “She’s been in there a while. Where is my food?” He got up and chased a late coming early bird.
Polly removed her old clothes and evaluated her flesh mud spots in the bathroom mirror, thinking that they created their own interesting form of non-everyday decoration. Left to her own volition she might have kept them or at least the most desirable examples, but she already knew that in so doing she would also be inviting questions and comments she’d rather not
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deal with, so she sighed and washed most of them off, keeping a few that would be covered by clothing. She wondered if everything came as a package deal and concluded that freedom was clandestine.
She returned to the kitchen where her parents or maybe it would be more correct to say Dad again reverted to discussing the merits of relationship banking in all of its ramifications.
She was unaware that while she was upstairs they decided that they wouldn’t worry about Prince’s behavior unless they themselves saw something objectionable or if the neighbors made a formal complaint, knowing that if there were anything anywhere near worth saying that they would not be shy about registering their opinions and observations, probably armed with cell phone photos.
As she put dog food in a bowl she heard her father say;
“Nobody will unequivocally say that they are for it during the board meetings. When I speak to them privately I get some assurances of support, dependent on my ability to document hard facts demonstrating the financial merit. I think I’ve done this though admittedly when dealing with future projections one can always make a case for speculation in the numbers, which they just happen to notice at the meetings.”
Mom said; “At one job I did a project that was thorough as thorough can be, but it strongly suggested a conclusion and one
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guy who would be responsible for implementing the changes kept asking stupid questions, making me go back after more information and more information and more information. It got to the point of ridiculous, so I started to argue that the added information was irrelevant, always a bad argument, but I had had it. You know what he said to me; ‘I fully agree with you, but don’t you think it possible that there might be someone somewhere who might be interested in knowing more?’ I told him that when you phrase a question like that the answer is always a no-brain yes and nothing ever gets done. Of course he didn’t like that and maybe that’s why I now work for a dentist and he’s still a Senior Vice President. When we were on good terms, as much as one can be with a parasite, I asked him to what did he attribute his ability to outlast all the other SVP’s and without any hesitation or chuckle he told me that he knew when to duck.
You should keep that in mind as we’d have to live in a trailer on two dental assistant salaries.”
Dad shook his head, half grinning and half despondent. He said; “One guy, a board member, told me that I could count on his support at the board meeting. Things weren’t going our way and when he was asked his opinion he got flustered, hesitated and then said that he felt very strongly both ways. Very strongly both ways. Very strongly both ways? I didn’t know you
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could do that with anything other than sexual proclivities and even then there is often a preference.”
Mom motioned with her head toward Polly, who was dawdling at the sink.
Dad looked at his daughter’s half turned back and said;
“Polly, are you having some sort of problem over there?”
Polly was listening intently, thinking that in the future she would try to eavesdrop on more of her parent’s conversations as it seemed to her that the most interesting, but not yet fully understandable stuff came out when they didn’t know she was around. So as to seem disinterested in the spy business she turned, affecting a yawn as if she had just woken up and said;
“This takes time. It’s not like you push a button and the dish fills.”
Mom and Dad ceased their talk and shrugged.
Polly finished filling the dish and put the can in the garbage.
As she started to walk away she said; “Dad, just tell me one thing. What is relationship banking?”
Dad was perplexed. In all the time he had spent trying to promote it he had never before been asked to define the term.
At the bank people had spoken of it by using the language of mathematics. He said; “That’s a great question. It’s something that doesn’t yet exist. I really don’t have an easy answer. I
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could say a number of different things about it, but they would all be misleading or incomplete.”
He paused and Polly stood still and made a disgruntled face.
Dad said; “Okay, try this. It’s like when you give somebody something now so that you both will benefit in the future.”
Polly tried to visualize something real that fit the description and she thought of her family and Prince, but didn’t have any idea about how to apply that to a bank. So she took a different line of thought and said; “Mercy at school told me that her parents were into something called Eastern Zen and that all there is is now.”
Dad quickly replied; “That’s why in the East they still ride around on yaks. Now, would you please get out of here and feed that dog before he eats somebody.”
Polly left making a mental note to ask Mercy if her parents had yaks in the driveway.
Mom stood up, undid a few buttons of her work uniform and said; “Speaking of which ......,” as she sauntered to the stairs, Dad in close pursuit. As he elevated he admired the lofty view and said; “Wholly art. Wholly future. Let me live with exploration in the greatest light.” Mom looked down quizzically and wondered if she should re-consider her position.
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Prince was tired of waiting to be fed and decided to take matters in his own paws. He sniffed around the yard and found some fur, detecting the recent presence of a tasty rabbit, hoping it was still around.
Life became as settled as life ever is for an entire month.
Prince and Polly didn’t run into anything unexpected. There were new acquaintances and faces, but they all were a repeat of the people they met on their first few days out; some supportive of their public performances, some non-supportive, at times overtly so, and some with no opinion, for some technical reason.
Polly thought that the no-opinions were very likely to be non-supportives who wanted to appear to be the more fashionable supportives. She dwelled on the point that if she was correct in her assessment of the no-opinions that the majority viewpoint was that she was doing something wrong. She never was one to hope for a school nomination to any “Miss Popularity” or “Most Liked” contest. In fact, she would have been insulted if anyone proposed her for “Most Liked,” and possibly punch them, but, still the whole thing bothered her and the degree was still increasing.
Prince thought simply. He knew he needed to bone up more if he were to debate his thoughts with the current mavens,
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however he knew that even if were invited to a “serious discussion” he couldn’t speak or understand the human language and they couldn’t speak or understand the dog method of conveying meaning, so he didn’t classify or compare their acquaintances beyond whether they liked him or not. If you liked him, great, he’d try to return the favor adding icing to the cake. If you didn’t like him, fine too, but in this case please don’t push. His only problem was that sometimes he’d run over to greet a human he already knew didn’t like him and be rebuffed. Thus far it was an unavoidable mistake because they all looked alike. Sure, some had different hair colors, but his natural level of gaze was below their head and they all wear pants. When he felt like working he would have to come up with some method of differentiation. In the meantime he spent his copious spare hours chasing everything that moved out of his back yard. The birds, road runners, rabbits, squirrels and weasels were put on notice that they were no longer welcomed.
Prince tried to remove the insects too, but gave up after he saw that by the time he had chased out one or two, dozens more had taken their place. He could sense that Polly was more brittle and tight in the way she held him. Because of that he didn’t attempt to lead her to the Bosque, suspecting that she was having some difficulty in handling something she already knew, consequently new things would best be postponed. The real
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wildness offered by the small strip of land bordering the river could wait for the appropriate time; when he feels the chain relax. Or so he thought. He never considered the possibility that Camino De Lucia “civilization” might be the cause of her condition and the best remedy might be to take her away from it and escape to the crazy, unknown, natural wild.
Dad tread water on his big thing; relationship banking.
Board members continued to not give him any support at their regular meetings and privately several paid lip service to some vague degree of support while insisting on more information.
Irrationally and with caution thrown to the wind he avoided Mr.
I-Feel-Strongly-Both-Ways as a matter of personal distaste. One evening, as he made another presentation to the board of “facts”
he considered irrelevant, he was tired and dis-interested and his mind wandered to Polly, resulting in him referring to his platform as the “Love your bank” program. Initially embarrassed, he soon saw the tight-lipped but broadening smiles showed that the board thought his faux pas an obviously purposeful one and a few members subsequently told him that they were happy and surprised to see that he did, indeed have a previously un-noticed sense of humor. He took that under advisement, but concluded that there was a tiny plus and made plans to talk to Polly more often.
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Mom kept forcing huge smiles at the dental patients and like her daughter developed a new mental condition. When she was little she had made grotesque faces at her mother and her dispassionate “mummy” would merely advise her that her face could stay that way, so now she became fearful that her façade would freeze in the “Joker” position. She’d gaze around the office and when no one was looking she would make ugly, distorted frowns and use both hands in an attempt to pull her cheeks back down. She continued her “religious” ritual of saying five “Our Father’s” and five “Hail Mary’s” rationalizing the lost time by combining her prayers with her morning office coffee while she absently stared into “Cosmopolitan” magazine, many of which rested on a discount store metal rack attached to a door for the benefit of patience and patients. She would simultaneously beg God; “Please, please, please, pleeeeease, don’t let any of the old men proudly show me their new dental work.” When they did she felt obliged to don the smiling mask with the widest stretch and consequently she inhaled tooth decay stink mixed with antiseptic. She thought it was customary and business-like to tell the fossil how great he now looked as he crouched in front of her with both hands in his mouth saying what sounded like a mentally challenged version of; “Look, look.” On more than one occasion she was rewarded for her heroics with an ass-grab. She didn’t have high hopes for divine
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intervention as somewhere in her past she had heard that it was necessary to go to his house to make one’s pleas. Or, was that Marlon Brando? No matter, she didn’t have his address, e-mail or otherwise, either. Her husband was making her nervous because of his arguable zealotry in an environment more conducive to smile masks imitating the antiquated hard logic (insofar as it had previously been gleaned) of business.
THEN PREDICTABLE, BUT NONETHELESS WELCOMED MAGIC CAME TO
TINY CORRALES.
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