Love at first sight versus science.11 min read

Prelude to ‘An American Dream’

I used to love mom telling me about her early life, where she’d been and what she’d done. Most of all I loved hearing about when she met daddy. I’d lay on the floor of an evening by the fire and get her to tell me her story again, never tired of it; I don’t think she did either.

It was some hotel – all cut-glass chandeliers, marble pillars, red carpet and even a gold-braided major domo. Old and prestigious with less fake gold and more taste than some these days I guess, and in Manhattan. ‘Serene and elegant’ the reviews said, ‘a place to be cossetted and pampered’ – at a price.

There was a big stage at one end where the MC would be entertaining and some VIP would be presenting the awards. Of course mom went in the back entrance. She’d graduated with an A from Columbia, done some travelling – the hippy trail and all that – and was back in New York, treading water while she worked out where to go with her life. She was a tall, blue-eyed farm girl, more at home in dungarees than a business suit and she was working hotel functions, waitressing and stuff like that. She found herself working with all kinds of people, young and not so young women mainly, either on the way up or on the way down and oftentimes not knowing which. She didn’t care; up or down she didn’t judge. She used to say, “If you stand on your head, up looks just like down so when you pass people don’t assume they’re on the way down, it just might be you not them”.

Dad had a Berkeley Ph.D. and worked as a systems analyst and then in New York finance. No farm boy though; his parents were LA lawyers. Successful but kind of alternative too. They did a lot of pro bono stuff, letting their richer clients subsidise the rest. He was bound to turn out kind of unorthodox. He was a high flier and gearing up to make a whole lot of money. Then he met mamma and that was it. He said to me  so often when I was a little girl, “A man would have to be crazy to choose money over a life with your mother.”

The night they met was some kind of business awards evening for entrepreneurs, capital asset managers and, what they called, ‘change-makers’ in the finance sector, young men mostly and the odd feral woman, Ivy-League mainly, scions of the rich; they thought they had what they had on merit  and anyone could do what they had done; the men and women I served with knew different. They made money out of money. They sweated it until it multiplied and skimmed off their commission and went out with their crowd to celebrate. This was their night, one of many in those days. The whole thing was set up to make them think they were great; there was even a charity auction so they could ostentatiously splash some cash out for a good cause and feel great about themselves. It gave them a chance to display an apparent generosity of spirit and carelessness about their wealth while they showcased it. It was all sharp suits, gold cards, Rolexes and loud self-satisfaction. These were the kids who never got drafted when we were at war; for that you had to be poor or better still poor and black. Funny how the same people who were first in the queue for everything else in life turned out to be last in line for dying for their country. Things hadn’t really changed by the time I joined the military, not really. Fighting men were mostly poor or lost. There were policies about equality when I was in service but it was pretty clear who got the worst assignments; it was just the way the system worked, just like in the Civil War, the World Wars and Nam. We honour our military, every politician makes a point of that and being seen in church of course but somehow vets. still end up on the dump and politicians still end up being bought and sold. Anyway that’s a story for another time.

That night, Mom was circulating around the room serving drinks as the conversation focussed on who had made most, whose car was fastest or just priciest, and what the next big thing would be. Those fortunate children of fortunate parents were enjoying the night, excited about the awards and intending to get pretty drunk and go hunting in the fashionable clubs of New York after the show. She didn’t like it or them one bit but the tips were good and got better the more they drank. The approaches got less subtle too but she just kept on smiling – most of the time anyway. The night she met my daddy was actually the night she decided to go home. The glitz and energy of New York was wearing off for her in any case and the hustling and greed she encountered that night kind of clinched it for her. She was serving a group of four and fending off another bore when she saw Daddy. He was leaning on a pillar on the edge of the room, more a watcher than part of it though he looked like all the rest.

“Well what do we have here?” said one to the other three, who grinned and openly looked her up and down.

Mom let the mask slip a little; she smiled and said, “What you have here is free champagne but maybe you’ve had enough already” and turned to move on.

“Now just a minute little lady”, was his response as he put a hand on her shoulder to stop her going. The others looked on and one, to his credit said, “She’s just a working girl Bill, don’t make a scene.”  

Bill didn’t like being checked and lived his life on a pretty short fuse. He coloured up, not wanting to have a waitress show him up in front of them. “Keep out of this. She just needs to behave.”  Mom tried to pull away while not spilling the tray of drinks but he held her tighter. “I’m not sure you know who you’re talking to; a pretty waitress like you should learn to have some manners.”

That was Daddy’s cue to come to the rescue and he did. He strolled over and said, “Now Bill, you might be good at making money but I think you’re the one to need a lesson in manners. Best let the young lady go now, otherwise, come Monday we might just have to let you go.” I learned those words off by heart when I was little; I used to act the scene out in my bedroom of a night. One time I even threw it back at daddy when he’d chewed me out for something. He was so taken aback he just burst out laughing; I was pretty cute in those days.

Anyways, Bill coloured some more but he let go and offered an insincere apology of sorts. “Sorry about that honey; I guess I’ve been working too hard.”

He’d been tempted to tough it out. They wouldn’t sack him for slapping down a mouthy waitress; he was worth too much to them. He knew well enough the corporate culture he worked in. Women didn’t count for much. They were secretaries and coffee makers, arm decoration and, often enough, easy to bed for guys like him with money and status. But still there was a doubt; corporate culture was one thing but his boss, a West-coast liberal who didn’t need the money, didn’t buy into the culture. He wasn’t one of the ‘good old boys’; he was fine to work for but he didn’t join in or like locker room values.

The others grinned, secretly glad I guess to see the alpha male taken down.

Daddy took the tray from mom and put it down on a table and asked if she was ok.

She wasn’t but wouldn’t show it. “You actually employ these people?” she asked.

“Well I manage them at least”, he said smiling. And then, “Look can I give you something to make up for this upset?” he said, reaching for his wallet.

“You people” she said pulling away, “You think money is the answer to everything don’t you? Well it isn’t so just keep your money and leave me alone.”

He looked for some way out of the hole he’d dug, couldn’t find one and decided on the truth. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you…or insult you come to that; Bill’s not exactly a one-off but we’re not all like him. I don’t think money is the answer to anything really, except poverty that is, and not much of this will trickle down despite the charity auction.” She wasn’t looking at him, maybe not even listening. He thought for a second then said, “Look, what would happen if you just up and left tonight, now. Let me buy you a drink or a coffee, or a meal to try to make it up to you.” He saw her look and guessed what she was about to say so charged on, “No strings, we could just go down to the hotel bar and you can insult me all you like, I surely deserve it.”

“Why do you do this work?” she finally said.

“I’ve been asking myself the same question lately”, he said, and looked a little lost.  Truth was the man who used to say there was no science behind love at first sight had fallen in love so…………. he stopped believing in science.

Mom said, “If I just up and left I guess I’d get fired is all.”

“Would that really matter to you?”

She laughed at the symmetry and said, “I’ve been asking myself the same question lately.”

“Fine. Let me have a quick word with someone and make my excuses and we’ll go?” It was a question not an assumption and she just looked at him for a while.

“It’s not such a great job”, was all she said.

He wouldn’t let her out of his sight, didn’t want to risk her disappearing so she went with him to find the MC.

He was a big noise, a comedian and national treasure, though whether you stood on your feet or your head, he was definitely on his way down, booze and coke had seen to that. He was running through the award running order; there was the dinner to come first but he wouldn’t be eating much; too nervy despite the medicinal line he’d snorted.

“Hi Don”, said my father. “There’s been a change of plan chief.”

“Change of plan”, Don paled but smiled bravely, giving Mom a quick glance.

“Yes. This is my cousin,” he paused looked at her and then said, “Darleen. She’s brought news of a family emergency and I have to leave straight away, I’m afraid.”

“Straight away?” There was no one-liner to fit this situation and Don gave up the struggle.

“Straight away. Isn’t that right Darleen?”

Mom just nodded.

“Please offer my apologies to the other guests and say….say I’m with them in spirit.”

And off they went. They didn’t speak on their way down in the lift but as they got out Mom just said the one word, “Darleen?”

Turned out Daddy was heading the winners’ list that night. I guess some prizes are worth more than others.

So he became a farmer. Once she was home again Mamma wouldn’t leave the farm – she used to say it was in her blood. But she was no simple country girl; she just knew what was important, what people needed to be happy. When she died I lost track of that for a long time; Daddy didn’t.