Her American Dream

I found Tessa inside the sports shed. Except…Nothing needed doing.

Nets were attached to hoops, goals and poles. Penny jerseys were neatly divided between red and yellow. Balls were separated: tennis, basketball, baseball, volleyball; GaGa, dodge, ping-pong, football…so many freaking balls.

I looked around. Then back at her. “I think somebody beat me to it.”

She leaned against the shelving with a grin. “I did.”

“So…”

“So.”

“What exactly am I helping with?”

She folded her arms. “Nothing.”

I blinked. “Nothing?”

“I figured the gopher deserved a break.”

I laughed. “You tricked me.”

“I prefer ‘rescued you.’”

“You know, you’re becoming one of my favorite Australians.”

“How many Australians do you know?”

I thought about it. “One.”

She smiled. “I’ll take it.”

We left the shed behind and wandered down a trail through the pines. The woods smelled like warm earth and pine needles. Sunlight filtered through the branches in long golden beams.

“You know,” I said, “I’ve always wondered something.”

“Dangerous.”

“Why’d you come all the way from Australia?”

She smiled. “You want the honest answer?”

“Always.”

“I wanted to see America.”

“It’s a big place. I’ve barely seen any of it.”

“I know.”

“So why Maine?”

She shrugged, “It was hiring.”

I laughed. “Fair enough.”

“But…”

She looked out through the trees. “I also had a dream.”

“A dream?”

She nodded solemnly. “I wanted to go to a real American honky-tonk.”

I stopped walking. “A honky-tonk?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Country music. Dancing. Neon beer signs. Roughnecks. The whole thing.”

I laughed. “You came halfway around the world for that?”

“It was on the list.”

“What else is on the list?”

She started counting on her fingers. “Eat barbecue in Texas. See New York City. Go to a baseball game. And dance in an American honky-tonk.”

I smiled. “I think I can help with one of those.”

She looked at me. “Really?”

“There’s a little bar down the road.”

“The basement one?”

“You know it?”

“Maggie mentioned it.”

“It isn’t fancy.”

“I don’t care.”

“It might not even qualify as a real honky-tonk.”

She grinned. “Close enough.”

I thought for a second. “How about tonight?”

She smiled. “Are you asking me on a date?”

I felt my ears warming. “…Maybe.”

“I was hoping you were.” She bumped my shoulder. “It’s a date.”

Then I remembered one very important detail. “I don’t have a car.”

She laughed. “Minor complication.”

“I know somebody who does.”

Amanda’s office looked exactly how I imagined a consultant’s office would look. Organized chaos. A whiteboard covered with sticky notes. Boxes. Arrows. Colored markers.

She stood in front of it, moving yellow Post-it notes from one column to another with complete concentration. She didn’t notice me until I knocked on the open door. Without turning around she said, “If this is another emergency involving nudity…”

“It isn’t.”

“Good.”

She finally looked over.

“What is it?”

I hesitated.

“I need a favor.”

She narrowed her eyes immediately. “I don’t like that tone.”

“I was wondering…”

“Yes?”

“…if I could borrow your car tonight.”

She stared at me. “My car.”

I nodded. “The BMW.”

Another pause. “Why?”

I shifted my weight. “I kind of…”

“Kind of?”

“…asked Tessa out.”

Amanda sighed. “I see.”

“We’re just going to the bar.”

“I know the bar. And I know your age.”

“Well, I know the bartender so my age isn’t a problem, and I promised Tessa she’d get to experience an American honky-tonk.”

Amanda leaned against her desk. “And why exactly does this require my car?”

“I don’t own one.”

She rubbed her forehead. “I am starting to feel far too much like your mother.”

I laughed, nervously, afraid that she’d explode about her age again. Instinctively I said, “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“…A little.”

She looked at me for another few seconds. Then shook her head. “You know what?”

“What?”

“I’ll take you.”

“You will?”

“I’m driving.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

She pointed a marker at me. “You are absolutely not taking my car by yourself.”

“I wasn’t going to crash it.”

“I’m less worried about the car than I am about you.”

I smiled.

“Besides,” she continued, turning back toward the whiteboard, “I could use a drink.” She peeled another sticky note off the board and moved it to a different column. “My cousin Lynn and Sal have spent the entire afternoon changing priorities.”

I glanced at the board.

“What are all those?”

“The camp’s operating processes.”

“It looks complicated.”

“It was organized.” She emphasized the word. “Then they started making ridiculous requests.” She crossed out a note and rewrote it. “Consulting would be a wonderful profession…” She sighed. “…if people didn’t insist on having opinions.”

I laughed. “So you’ll come?”

She nodded. “I’ll drive. You and Tessa can have your date. And I’ll make sure neither of you does anything spectacularly foolish.”

“That’s… surprisingly generous.”

Amanda smiled. “Don’t misunderstand.” She picked up another sticky note. “I’m doing this because I need an evening away from these people.” She glanced toward the dining hall. “…And because I suspect if I leave you unsupervised for another twelve hours, you’ll somehow end up becoming famous in the cafeteria again.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

“I’ll meet you in the parking lot after dismissal,” she said.

I headed for the door.

“Oh,” Amanda called after me.

I turned.

She smiled without looking up from the whiteboard. “Bring money this time. The bartender mentioned you had an open tab.”