Read Playground for Free Online Page B

away
    from them, but it doesn’t help. I’m incredibly uncomfortable, al-
    though I’m not quite sure why.
    Dad comes down the main staircase and joins us in the Med
    Room a few minutes later. He shakes hands with the guy and says
    hello to the girl. He sits down beside me, ordering a sandwich and
    a bowl of soup from a butler.
    “How was everything?” I ask.
    “Fine. Routine,” Dad answers discreetly, as always.
    I peer over stunned by what I see next. The “shy” girl stands up
    and kisses her father good-bye. Their mouths are slightly open as
    they kiss softly on the lips.
    After she leaves, I whisper, “That’s his daughter, ” into my father’s
    ear, horrified. “Did you see how they kissed?”
    Dad nods nonchalantly. “That’s what people do when they love
    each other.” His eyes peer right through me. My body goes numb.
    He does not comprehend where he ends and I begin. I try to think
    of something to say, but I cannot. I look away from him quickly,
    knowing I saw something gross.
    Soon, I care less and less about roller-skating rinks, spin the bot-
    tle, or boys my own age, all of which seem elementary to me. My fa-
    ther, without being conscious of it, causes a tug-of-war between the
    34

    Playground
    kid I am and the adult he wants me to be. He wants me to tag along
    as his partner in crime and is threatened by anyone with the power
    to divert my attention or love.
    “Why do you need to sleep at other kids’ houses when you have
    everything you need at my house? It doesn’t make any sense,” he
    repeats over and over.
    “That’s what we do. We have sleepovers,” I try to explain, but
    he doesn’t get it.
    His love and devotion are intoxicating. We become so attached
    that leaving each other seems as final as death. Before long, I start
    to second-guess why I’d want to sleep anywhere else or even be
    with anyone else.
    We’re at our usual corner booth at Hamburger Hamlet in Century
    City, eating burgers, shakes, and fries.
    “The Village People are performing at the Mansion,” my father
    mentions, nonchalantly, between bites.
    I drop the fries that were headed to my mouth. Ketchup splat-
    ters all over my white Esprit shorts. I don’t notice.
    “Are you serious? They’re my favorite group!” I scream franti-
    cally.
    “I would invite you,” he eyeballs me, “but it’s a pajama party for
    adults and I certainly don’t want your mother yelling at me again.”
    “You always want me to go with you everywhere, and now
    you’re saying I can’t?”
    “Hey, I’m okay with it; it’s your mother who has the problem,”
    he reiterates smoothly.
    I switch gears, instantly understanding the complex dynamic
    at hand.
    “It’s probably because she’s jealous,” I say, knowing it’s what he
    wants to hear.
    “I hate to say it, but I think you’re right,” he smiles.
    35
    J E N N I F E R S A G I N O R
    I envision myself jumping up and down onstage with the Vil-
    lage People: Let’s hear it for “Y.M.C.A.”!
    “You know she acts like she cares about you, but she doesn’t
    care about anyone but herself,” he says about my mother.
    “Oh, I know,” I say, while trying to figure out what I’ll wear to
    the event.
    “Well, I suppose what Mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” he
    says.
    We exchange smiles.
    Another image of me onstage with the Village People flashes
    through my brain. Dancing with them, flailing my arms in the air,
    motioning the letters to “Y.M.C.A.”
    “So, it’s settled then,” says Dad.
    From under the table, he pulls out an autographed album of
    the Village People with my name on it.
    “Wow! Thanks, Dad. I can’t believe you got it signed and
    everything!”
    We hug, having, once again, successfully tiptoed through the
    land mines of our relationship.
    The day of the concert, the commotion on the front lawn is
    enough to drive anyone wild—balloons, colorful umbrellas, a
    popcorn trolley, and endless pretty girls in bikinis. A roller disco
    party