I met her at my daughter's eighteenth birthday party. A fresh faced girl with lollipop eyes and lips of raspberry kisses. She had pale hair, almost white but I knew straight away that was an illusion created by the craft of a hair stylist. When my daughter, Rebecca, introduced us her smile poured sweet honey on my soul and I knew I was hopelessly in love. Miserably in love, as age-wise she could have been Rebecca's twin while I, after forty-six summers, was definitely 'uncle' material at the very least. Cindy Holbrook gave a hip-high wave as my daughter told her, "My dad, Peter Farrell"
"Hi mister Farrell." Her voice tinkled in the warm summer air and an image of crystal wind chimes flickered briefly in my mind.
"Charmed, Cindy." Great, I managed not to stutter or drool while my handshake was dry and firm without being overpowering as I grasped her delicate fingers and squeezed briefly. My generation doesn't shake a woman's hand. It has never been etiquette with us. I let go and felt a sad tug somewhere inside as if I had just lost something dear to me.
We must have chatted for nearly twenty minutes. Me, managing charm and elocution while Cindy tinkled and giggled at my jokes. I could sense Rebecca becoming restless, wanting to get away from her Daddy for a while to be with her friends so it was expected when she spoke.
"Well daddy. Have a great time huh? I'm going to mingle. Coming Cindy?" And they were gone. I glanced around at the moderate crowd on the lawn trying to pick out where she had gone but although I thought I'd caught a glimpse of her sky blue dress for a second I couldn't see her anymore.
Bill McGregor approached me, thrust a can of beer into my hand then began a rambling conversation about the worsening economy and the state of the world. I tuned out although I nodded each time he paused for my view. My eyes searched through the throng hoping to spy my angel in the blue dress.
"...Your round I think."
My mind snapped back as Bill's damp can touched the back of my hand. I looked at his ruddy smile then down at the empty green can boldly emblazed with the letters 'VB'. It had left a small damp spot on my hand from its condensation.
"You got it, Bill. Coming right up." I took the empty container from him and shouldered my way to the ice tub where numerous cold green cans of VB beer nestled in the slurry. Every few feet a voice would greet me or a hand would pluck my sleeve so that it took me several minutes to travel the short distance. Finally reaching the tub I dipped my hand in seeking a couple of 'coldies' while my eyes turned towards where Bill stood. He was already deep in conversation with one of our local mechanics, his hands zooming around like two airplanes in a dogfight. Beers in hand I began to negotiate the crowd vectoring my journey around people's back and avoiding any attempt at conversation with a quick smile or shrug.
Bill took the can from me without interrupting his diatribe and that was the moment I saw her again. She was alone, sipping on a drink the color of tropical sunshine, standing at the edge of the crowd, leaning on the patio rails, looking towards the distant hills. There was no reason to excuse myself as Bill would hardly note my departure so I sauntered towards her, casually disposing of the full can of beer I had retained by leaving it on a small table.
"Hi." It was all I could think of to say at the moment.
"Oh, hi Mr. Farrell. Enjoying the party?" Again those crystal chimes tinkled. I smiled and she took it as an affirmation.
"And you?"
"Yes..." She turned those large green eyes to mine and somewhere in their depths I saw a shadow flit. "It is a lovely party."
I'm not the world's most sensitive guy...As far as I'm concerned 'snag' is still slang for sausage (My daughter says it is an acronym for Sensitive New Age Guy). However on this occasion I felt a small hint of sadness in the air as Cindy looked once more towards the hazy blue folds of distant mountains.
"Do I detect an air of melancholy?" I teased.
She sighed. One of those 'little girl' sighs that included a rise and drop of the shoulders and she turned her face up to the sky, eyes closed.
"It's nothing. I guess I still miss Travis."
"Travis?"
"Travis Jolly. He is...was my boyfriend."
I could see a miniature tide rising at the bottom of each eye threatening to spill like a teary waterfall down those beautiful alabaster cheeks. I felt a bubble in my heart and my hand fell lightly onto her shoulder, my thumb gently caressing her left shoulder blade.
"Want to tell me what happened?"
"He's gone...left...went up to the Northern Territory to find a job nearly two months ago. He hasn't written or phoned." A tear trickled from her right eye creating a shining rill down her cheek. She dabbed at it with one finger and sniffed.
"And have you tried getting hold of him?"
She nodded sniffing again and her head came down briefly on my hand, the one on her shoulder. Her hair felt cool and soft as sunlight then it was gone leaving only a phantom tingle where it had touched.
"No luck huh?" Yeah well, no shit Sherlock! I felt her begin to tremble a little and knew that a full on gusher was imminent. Suddenly she turned into me and buried her face in my chest.
"Oh, Mr. Farrell. I get so lonely without him."
