A Thousand Acres_ A Novel - Jane Smiley [81]
“I’m going to walk down Main Street. I’ll be back and then we’ll go over to the Pike’s Peak and have dinner.” He huffed. I said, “I don’t want to sit in the car. It’s awfully hot.”
“What if I’m done before you come back? I gotta wait for you.”
“It’s air-conditioned in the office. Just chat with Roberta.”
“You wait. You can window-shop some other time.”
“I’ll meet you at the Pike’s Peak, then.”
“I don’t want to walk there in this heat.”
I squinted down the street at the bank clock: 11:12, 87 degrees. “It’s only a block and a half and it’s not that hot, Daddy. The walk will do you good.” This conversation made me breathless, as if I were wearing a girdle with tight stays.
“You wait. I want to ride.”
I glanced toward the chiropractic office. Roberta Stanley, the receptionist, was just inside the door, watching us argue. I said, “It’s boring to wait, Daddy. I didn’t bring a book or a magazine or anything.” I hated the note of pleading that crept into my voice. Where was the power I had felt only a few days before, the power of telling rather than being told?
Inspired by just that note of pleading, Daddy raised his voice a little. “You wait.”
I got back in the car. It was the presence of Roberta Stanley that made me get back in the car. Daddy turned and walked heavily toward the door. Roberta got up from behind her desk and opened it for him. After he went in, Roberta lingered a moment, smiling at me. I gave a wave, and she waved back. I scrunched down in the seat. All of the Stanleys would certainly hear about this, since Roberta was a terrible gossip. I hated to think about how people felt about us. It didn’t matter what it was, disapproval, ridicule, even sympathy or fondness. I hated to think of them having any opinion at all.
There was a remote possibility that I would see Jess Clark in Pike. He was often the one to run into town if they needed something, and he had gotten into the habit of doing all the food shopping, since neither Harold nor Loren ever remembered to accommodate his vegetarianism. That would be nice, I thought, just to see him ambling down the sidewalk, just to watch him from a distance, his figure imbedded in its surroundings. One of many, a manageable size. He didn’t appear, but thinking of him sparked the voices, and I gave into them, sliding farther down into the seat. The effect of sliding down, of relaxing, was to arouse me slightly. I closed my eyes.
Daddy ordered the full hot dinner special—roast beef with gravy and mashed potatoes, canned string beans, ice cream, three cups of coffee. I had grilled cheese on Roman Meal bread, potato chips, pickle, and a Coke. We sat across from one another, and I saw him eyeballing my plate. He said, “That all the dinner you’re gonna eat?”
“I’m not hungry for some reason.”
“Hmmp.”
“You really shouldn’t be eating all that. That’s too much. It’s a hot day.”
“You said it wasn’t hot before.”
“Daddy, if you got more exercise, you’d feel better. A little walk down Main Street from the chiropractor to the café wouldn’t bother you.”
“I can walk it. I don’t want to. I walked plenty in my time, and now I want to ride.”
“Did Dr. Hudson talk to you about exercise? It’s important—” He waved me off with his fork.
“Then I hope you don’t get your license taken away.”
He drank from his coffee. “You shouldn’t talk to me like you do. I’m your father.”
“I try to show respect, Daddy.”
“You don’t try hard enough. You think because I gave you girls the farm, you don’t have to make up to me any more. I know what’s going on.”
“That’s not true, Daddy. We do our best.” I smiled. “You’re not the easiest person to get along with, you know.”
“I don’t like it when people are lazy, or when they don’t pay attention. This is a hard business, and takes hard work.”
I continued to smile. The second half of my sandwich lay on my plate, and I was hungry for it, but instead of eating it,