“A priest did my Cousin’s wedding; he told the Judge about my love for my Cousin. It did not take any convincing the priest brought three others with him that told my story. So the Judge gave me a break, a hundred hours community service for the assault, and they charged the husband with manslaughter.”
I stopped, took a deep breath, and my voice got louder. “The fucker has twelve more years to go in prison out of fourteen. Excuse my French. I have a hard time with my anger sometimes.”
Hazel says. “You see, Mom, I am thankful you guys stopped him.”
Jean says. “I saw him get kind because of you dear he has his anger under control now, son; what did you do for your time?”
———-
I thought back four years ago as I gathered my thoughts I said. “There was an abandoned lot. They told us to clean it. They gave us an orange vest to wear. It was a dumping ground of trash with lumber, pipes, chains, a wrecked firetruck, and tires.”
“Working all day in the hot sun, we made a dent. I stayed up all night and had shop plans ready to make swings, slides, and jungle gyms and plans to make the firetrucks safe with everything in the lot. The boss of the crew called his boss, who called his boss. We had paint and ladders: brushes, tools, a power saw, a power drill, and a welding rig. I signed a weld on one of the rides. Finally, my time was up, as most community service folks returned to their lives. A few came back to work. There were four of us cleaning, and we thought we had help, but by midday, the few became none. So finally, it was just me.”
“The neighborhood watched me toil in the hot sun the whole week. They would come and ask what a white guy I was doing, and I told them. With a little help and hard work, it could be a park for the kids.”
Well, this eighty-year-old lady came to me and asked. “Why was a white boy doing this?”
I answered. “I had the skills to put the rides together but not the strength in my arms to do all the work. I hurt a man bad who killed my Cousin. I got community service, but that ran out the other day, and this place is hard enough without a park. I’ll finish it; it’s not a dream if you work on it.”
“That old lady walked away and returned with iced tea, coveralls, and a rake. “Two pairs of hands for the Lord’s work; it will go faster.” She said. Then two hands became six, then twenty. By the end of the day, there felt like hundreds working in the hot sun. After dark there, the food was great, as was the live music. The old lady named Dora asked me—my name. I said. Dan, ma’am.”
———-
I pull my camera bag out and my portfolio from the back pouch. I show my photo of a park where it was once a dumping ground. The sign on the playground is Dream park, and the hundred or so people who made it happen are standing next to me by the park sign.
We sat outside catching some sun, Hazel says. “It feels like life is moving slow, then you’re in my arms holding me, kissing me, and like seconds have gone and become hours, then it starts over waiting to hold you again.”
I say softly. “I heard of this before; just a question: do you think this is just a phase of a spoiled rich girl? Or are you all in on this? It will crush me if it’s not?”
Hazel says. “I guess you’ve seen how I feel about you. It seems like life is screaming by at a snail’s pace. But a full apartment, a shower, far enough away so I can scream it sounds like a dream to me, lover. And I’m so in, Baby.”
I called Mae and asked her. “If her dad could sell me some gold for a pair of engagement rings I had been working on, and if Mae talked, I make sure Hazy knew it was her that spoiled the surprise.”
I needed what was enough to make a good size pair of rings. So I called Mae’s Dad. He wanted to see my sketches; first, I told him. “No sketch, Sir. I had carved them in jeweler’s wax by feel, and I was ready to pour, but I was unsure how much gold it would take.”
He asked me. “To come by to see what I made on Monday.”
He sounded like I just did it in my spare time or in shop class, and he was doing this to keep his daughter happy, didn’t care I was in the door. I carved wax rings to sell. I made ten pairs till I was delighted with the last pair. It was the last pair I started working on after our day in my shop. I kept working on the pair till I would be happy if you wore it with me forever as our rings. I would swing by after school to Mae’s Dad’s store. I forgot about getting clothes with Jean, so I was caught off-guard with what to say when she picked me up before the last study hall.
I decided to trust you and tell you. I say. “Jean, I designed our engagement rings, and no, Hazel has no clue, but Mae’s Dad said he give me a price to cast my designs today, and you can come in if you promise not to tell her.”
Well, we go into a jeweler’s shop. I pull out my cigar box and unwrap ten pairs, and Mae’s Dad places them in the order I made them in, but he got one wrong and did it for him. “Son, you want a full-time job working for me? Before you answer, I cast your rings if you sell me the Master molds of the eight good ones.”
He moves the two of the weakest design and finishes off to the side. He hit a calculator to figure out how much. Nothing in my world prepared me for what he said. Jean is looking wide-eyed and has not said anything yet.
“I pay you forty-eight thousand for the eight molds and would love to look at anything you do in the future.” Mae’s Dad said.
I asked. “How many editions of each mold?”
He said. “Maybe a hundred each.”
I say. “I don’t mean to be rude, Sir. Can I have a piece of paper? As I do the math, eight pieces mean he will not sell our rings. They will be one of a kind; no one else will ever have one. A bit of math later, one of the rings would sell for five hundred each or Four hundred thousand. Nope, I am worth more.
I say. “One hundred thousand, you still make three hundred thousand on this batch alone. I give you an exclusive first pick to your store on all my future designs. Shake my hand, Sir? To seal the deal?”
He stood up. “You that Dan she keeps talking about at dinner. I am James Veese, Eighty thousand we have to pay for the gold.”
I say. “That’s fair. I did not know enough to add it to my math. But I look forward to working with you for years to come.”
We shook hands and wrote up a contract Mae’s Dad handed to Jean. “Have your hubby look this over and return it signed. Now you need the rings in a hurry?”
I say. “No sir, a smart person said to take our time and go slow. I love to be there to watch it being poured. I’ve only done lost wax twice, Sir. It was with silver I made Bolo ties.”
Mr. Veese says. “Indeed, Son, come by. I’ll call you on the pour date.”
He asked a few craftsmen to come in and look over the rings, one older man says. “Son, you want to mix the platinum metal for the textured part and 10k gold for the high polish. These two look like you’re in love, young Sir. Jean smiled and nodded as her face beamed with pride.
Walking to the Car, Jean has a look of wonder. Was this a dream, or did she watch her future son-in-law pick his path in life? Of course, no college would ever change this boy into a man. But her daughter did it for me well almost.
I say. “Jean, please, let’s keep this from Hazel. I want her to move at her pace. If we tell her this, she jumps too many steps as we grow into us.” I said as we got to the Car.
Jean held me and says. “Welcome to our family, son; Hazel is lucky to be loved by you.”
We got clothes for me; it came to under a thousand, but it was doable. Jean asked me. “I guess you think this is a loan. But this is not a gift from us to thank you for taking such good care of our Baby.”
I laughed and said. “OK, Mom, I know when I outclassed. I am getting a car when I set up a bank account. A tax Identification number, register my Design symbol, and Wait! Jean money Jean, I got it. I’ve won the golden ticket! Now I have to love her, and she lets me know when I have to ask her for hand in… Oh shit, Mom, how am I going to keep this from her?” I cried out.
Jean Says. “Tell her no… ask her to trust you, you have a plan in play, but you’re waiting on certain signs, and you know when you will tell all your plans.”
We got in, and Jean and Bob disappeared as Hazel looked at me and says. “Mom smiling a mile wide; your smiling shit looked at Dad. He was Smiling.”
Hazel looked at me hard. I had been working metal in a hot forge cooler than Hazel’s stare.
I say. “Baby, please trust me. I have a plan in play, but I am waiting on certain signs, and you know when then I will tell all,” I said, shaking as I said it. The look on Hazel’s face says it is not going to fly.
Hazel followed me into the kitchen on her wheels. Her folks look on and still have smiles. “You guys are way too fucking happy, and it means when my man gets the message through his thick Neanderthal skull I don’t care it’s only been days I need him like I need air can’t explain it better, I’m ready to be his wife. It’s not some puppy love, I had that and this is not it. Mom and I have talked.”
Jean and Bob beamed as they looked on, smiling a mile wide.
I say. “Baby shit, Mom, your daughter won’t play fair, will she but let me make a phone call, please.”
I came back from making a call. So I can pick them up at school on Friday, the night of the homecoming game. So I won’t see the pour.
I said. “Let’s eat!” Hazel looks at me hard again.
Leave a Reply