Neighborhood Dad Ch. 11

Over the weekend I spent a lot of time on eBay and Craigslist checking on guitar prices. I found a couple of guitars that sounded promising.

Randi was busy working all weekend, but had Monday evening free.

When Paige and I returned from basketball practice, Randi stopped by.

She pulled off her winter coat to reveal a form-fitting cable-knit sweater and tight, white pants. I liked the way her outfit didn't show any skin, but conformed to her body so nicely.

Of course, what really caught my attention as always were her deep green eyes. And her smile topped it all off perfectly.

I led her to my office where I had the computer up and running.

"Would you like a drink?"

"I know where the fridge is; I'll get it myself."

"Okay, watch out for Paige. She's starving and wiping out the whole kitchen."

Randi returned with a diet soda and sat down to pull out an age-worn laptop.

"I found a couple of things I liked online," she said.

"Me, too. We can compare notes."

As she was firing up the laptop, I brought up one ad that looked promising.

"This guy has a Yamaha acoustic for sale. That particular model sold for $200 new, and he's asking $110 and would probably take a hundred."

"That's okay, but I was kinda wanting something like this," she said, turning the computer around to show me a photo of a very basic electric guitar. The kind that they sell along with an amp for about $150 at Target or Best Buy.

"Oh, I hadn't thought about you wanting an electric."

"Why not?" she asked curiously.

"Well, you buy an acoustic and you're ready to have a concert. One guitar, six strings, all ready to go. If you get an electric, then you need an amp. And then you might want a chorus pedal or a distortion pedal or one of those all-in-one setups."

"A friend of mine said that playing an electric is easier for beginners because the strings are stretchier and don't hurt as bad."

"That's true to a point," I said. "They are a little easier, but not easy. The fingertips are gonna be sore at first no matter what you buy. But yeah, I think it might be help you learn better. Lemme see that sucker."

Sitting in my desk chair, I reached out a hand and she brought the laptop to me. She stepped behind me to look over my left shoulder while her hand rested on my right shoulder.

She leaned low enough that I felt her exhale upon my left ear. My eyes drifted shut for a second as I basked in the feeling of being close to her.

Then remembering that Paige was in the house, I opened my eyes and studied the ad.

"Hmm, no I don't think this is what you're looking for."

I said "excuse me" as I spun my swivel seat around so I could see my monitor.

"This guitar is one of those cheap models that are hard to play and sound like crap. There are better guitars out there."

I pulled up an ad I had seen the day before.

Now her hand was on my left shoulder, and her voice was soft in my right ear.

"Isn't that the same thing? A Squier?"

"Not all guitars are made equal, not even from the same company. This is part of the Affinity line. It sold for $280 new, and this guy is asking $225. We could probably talk him down to $200, maybe $180."

I turned my head to the side. I was only inches from her face and felt like I could fall into those emerald pools.

"Like I said, I only have $150. It would take me a couple more weeks to save some more back."

"Don't worry about. I could front you the difference, and you could pay me back when you're ready."

She leaned back and stood upright.

"I don't think so. I'm not comfortable owing you money. Any guy money, not just you."

"I can understand wanting to be independent," I said while my wheels turned. "So how about this? We go check it out. If I like it, I go ahead and buy it myself."

I could see her about to object, so I rushed ahead with the next step.

"It would be my guitar and it would stay here at my house, right next to my acoustic. You can come over for lessons and get familiar with it, and when you have your money together, you can buy it from me."

I watched her thinking it over. Actually, I watched her chew on her bottom lip and wished I could do some nibbling, too. This would be a great time for Paige to walk in and announce she was going over to Ricky's house.

Right on cue, Paige came bouncing in.

"See anything you like?" she asked, looking back and forth between the laptop and my monitor.

"Ooh, I like that sea foam green. Is that what you're getting?" she asked when she saw the Affinity.

"I don't think that's what they call that color, but yeah, it seems like a decent prospect," I said. "What do you think, Randi?" It felt nice to say her name, even in such an innocent fashion.

"I don't know. What if something happens, and I never get the rest of the money together? You'll be stuck with it, and I'd hate to do that to you."

"Nonsense. I actually have thought about getting an electric for years and just never did it. Worst case scenario, it stays here."

"So, you'd buy it, and I'd pay you back -- and not a penny less than you gave for it."

"Agreed."

"Then what are you doing sitting around here?" Paige asked. "That's a local exchange on the phone number. Give them a call and go pay a visit."

I'd been hoping that Paige would leave me and Randi alone in the house, not boot us out, but it wasn't a bad idea.

I made the call and spoke to a man who had a familiar-sounding voice. He said it was fine to come by right then, so I grabbed my checkbook and slid it into my inside coat pocket before Randi and I dashed out into the cold.

In the car, she said, "Thanks for doing this for me."

"No problem, I like being able to spend time with you."

The words came out of my mouth easily enough, but I suddenly felt very self-conscious about having said too much.

"I like being around you, too, but it's more than that," she said as she reached over and squeezed my right forearm. "I'm serious about wanting to learn, and I'm glad you're not laughing it off."

"Laughing? No, no. I saw that look in your eye."

"What look?" she asked.

"The first night I met you when I said how so many beginners quit because it's too hard. And you said all tough like Clint Eastwood, 'You telling me I can't learn?'"

She laughed and put her hand to her mouth.

"Oh my god, did I really say that?"

It felt lonely when she took that hand off my arm. I eased my arm over to the center console to make it closer in case she wanted to put it back.

"I just can't stand it when men act like I can't do something because I'm a woman."

Her hand drifted back down, but instead of resting on my forearm, she wrapped her fingers around my hand.

"But now that I've been around you a while, I know that you aren't like that. You expect a lot out of your players, more than they think they can give, and then they surprise themselves by doing it. You're a good man, Henry Donaldson."

I turned my head to give her a quick smile, then looked back at the road.

I countered, "You can't stand for guys to think a woman can't do something, and I can't stand when girls fall for that same crap about themselves. I want Paige and the others to realize they've got more inner strength than they know."

Her hand felt wonderful on mine. In that instance, our ages didn't matter. All the obstacles that the world would put in our way didn't matter. All the possibilities of life were there before us.

I found the right mailbox and pulled into a driveway.

As we got out of the car, a man opened the front door and stepped out.

"Jack Morton?"

"Henry, is that you?"

We shared an enthusiastic handshake as I asked, "How's that boy of yours?"

"Oh, he's off at college now. Been a long time since he was on that rec team of yours."

"Yeah, what's it been, seven or eight years?"

He turned and took notice of Randi.

"And this must be your little girl. Boy she sure has grown up, hasn't she?"

"I'm not Paige, I'm Miranda," she said, stepping forward and extending her hand. "But you can call me Randi."

I started to call her a friend of my daughter, but somehow that felt really awkward, especially after her holding my hand on the drive. Instead, what came out of my mouth was, "Randi works at the library. She's the one who's interested in learning the guitar. I'm going to be giving her lessons."

"Oh, okay," Jack said.

There was a slight shift in his demeanor in that moment. When he realized this wasn't my daughter, I caught Jack trying to discretely check her out. He opened the screen door and motioned us inside. Then when Randi stepped through, his eyes dropped to check out her butt.

Where he'd spoken almost entirely to me at first, now Jack was addressing Randi and trying to gain her interest.

In my head I heard this voice say, "Knock it off, you pervert. She's too old for you." But then I remembered that I was twice her age myself and wondered if that's what people would think if they saw me talking to Randi. Some old sicko trying to defile an innocent, young maiden.

"The guitar belongs to my son, Jesse," Jack said. "He bought it a couple of years ago when he and some buddies got it in their heads that they were starting a garage band. Now he's off at college, and the guitar is just gathering dust. He wants to sell it and use the money to help buy him an iPad or something."

He disappeared and returned with the guitar in hand. I gave it a quick inspection and didn't find anything obviously wrong with it.

"Hmm, nice." I handed it to Randi, who sat down on the sofa and turned the guitar this way and that, watching how the light bounced off the finish.

"I always thought that green was little girlie for a boy, but Jesse liked it," Jack said.

I figured it was time to dicker. "I think $225 is a little high for this guitar."

"Oh it's not just the guitar," he pointed out. "I forgot there's a small amp that goes with it and a carrying case."

"Really?" I asked, surprised.

He walked out of the living room again as I turned and asked, "What do you think?"

"I love it. Do you think it plays okay?"

"We'll find out in a minute."

After hooking up the amp and seeing both it and the guitar worked, I was convinced and wrote him out a check on the spot.

As we were leaving, Jack called out, "Come back any time," but he was only looking at Randi when he said it.