Finding Gina's Jane

A Story by Willys Watson

FINDING GINA’S JANE

On the Sunday after school let out for the summer, and just four days before her eleventh birthday, Gina stepped out onto the front porch of their home. It was a late humid evening, a night filled with ominous clouds that occasionally produced thunder and lightening. Although she usually loved watching nature’s celestial fireworks she was determined to focus on the decision she made earlier in the day.

Her decision, and the ensuing serious considerations that came with it, was brought about by the date her father had the night before, and the one he had gone on last weekend, both with different women. Though these dates had been arranged by well-meaning family members Gina knew upon meeting each woman beforehand that there would not be a second date with either. Knowing her father as well as she believed she did she was sure neither of them came close to being his type.

Still, these dates convinced her he was finally allowing for the possibility of having some sort of social life after the loss of his wife, her mother, two years before. And after hearing his account of the boring date last night Gina decided it was her duty, her solemn mission for the summer, to find him a new wife or at least a girlfriend her and her dad would both enjoy the company of.

She concluded the major obstacle to her playing cupid was the fact that the year before they sold their house in the city and moved back into the suburb he had grown up in so his nearby family could watch her when he was working. Gina understood the reasoning and her relatives were cool enough to be around, but she quickly became disheartened living here as she learned, mostly second-hand, that many in this more conservative area considered her father a bit of a kook. Even though he grew up around here and played sports in school, even though he served in the army, even though he had a respectable, well paying job as an electrician and drove an old pickup truck to these people he would always be an oddball. And Gina was convinced that the right type of woman wouldn’t even live in a stuffy area like this on purpose.

Maybe he was a little like the goofy inventor character from ‘Back To The Future’ but her father had earned the right to be whatever he chose to be. Gina was proud that he was a painter and creator of weird and wonderful things, just as she was equally proud that her mother had been a ballerina who taught dance, wrote poetry and loved the outdoors as much as her and her father still do. To Gina her folks were heros, not kooks. They were artists who lived life like they thought it should be lived and when they lived in the city her mom’s and dad’s friends were other artists, writers, teachers and theater types, none of whom ever considered her parents oddballs.

Suddenly Gina smiled because the needed details of her plan became clear. With a full summer ahead of them she just needed to steer him back into the city towards the museums, art galleries, book stores and social events where his future girlfriend would likely hang out at. And she was now less stressed about the task being that difficult because her father usually allowed her to decide what they did during their summer weekends together. She didn’t mind missing a few camping trips, sail boating or watching new blockbusters at the local mall if her quest was as successful as she knew it would be.

Before they left the house the next Saturday morning Gina had their itinerary carefully planned to maximize his exposure to her version of eligible women. She even chose the old truck over their family sedan or his newer work truck because she thought, with her father’s studio logo on both doors, it would be more appealing to the artist type woman if they saw them arrive in it.

Their first stop was to their once favorite used book store, a sprawling establishment that also sold used movies and music. From there they went to the Museum Of Science And History, a place Gina had spent many a fond afternoon at during her earlier childhood. Then they walked a half block to the Museum Of Modern Art, browsing through the permanent collection and the touring Lichtenstein exhibit, lingering there until closing time.

On the way home Gina was uncommonly quite because she was analyzing her first attempts at match making. Contemplating the events of the day, she told herself it started out well enough because she always made sure the women she chose to talk to weren’t wearing a ring and she quickly learned it was easy to start a conversation with a single women. The problem was she couldn’t figure out how to introduce them to her dad without seeming too obvious. What she needed was get home and go on-online for more information, wanted to ask the experts, the other kids who had successfully played cupid, for advice.

As he drove them back to their house her father was also reflecting on their day together. Her daughter’s choices had seemed natural enough when they began their trip, a desire to return to a familiar past, but he started noticing, halfway through their stop at the book store, that Gina appeared more interested in starting conversations with women than with the literary, film and musical treasures the store had to offer. And she continued the same pattern at both museums.

Yes, his daughter was intelligent for her age, though perhaps a little too serious at times, but she had a kind, loving nature and always meant well. However, emotionally she was still a kid who wouldn’t learn the art of female subtlety for at least a few more years and it didn’t take long for him to understand what she was up to. Although he found her match making attempts endearing he realized the time had come for him to try to explain to her what goes through the minds of single women his age, or at least what he believed went through their minds.

And he decided the best time was tomorrow before they caught the Shakespeare In The Park performance. In past years, as a family, they had always arrived early to stake out better seats with their picnic blanket and food basket. Then they headed to the nearby playground until thirty minutes before the performance started. This gave him from late morning to late afternoon to find the right moment to bring up the subject.

Her father was sitting at his work table sketching late Sunday morning when Gina entered the studio carrying her violin case and he watched her carefully prop it against an unused easel.

"Giving your fingers a rest?"

"More like giving poor Mendelssohn a break," Gina replied with a quick grin, then asked, while referring to the Coke machine, "Is Charlie finished?"

He had bought the machine at an antique shop the month before, hauled it back to his studio and started reprogramming it to talk when someone stepped in front of it. So far it had at least twenty phrases it randomly spoke when anyone got near its motion sensor. Gina wasn’t sure how old this rusty, ancient, round-topped machine was, which she fondly christened Charlie, but it still worked and the sodas it sold only cost twenty-five cents.

When he reached behind his chair to plug it back in Gina stepped in front of it and it asked ‘Is it time for my oil change yet?’

She giggled and stepped to the side of it so its motion sensor could reset itself, then stepped in front of it again. This time it complained, ‘I’m not getting paid enough for this gig.’

Gina repeated the process again and it asked her, ‘What? Is it something I said?’

"Cool, that’s one of my sayings," she proudly proclaimed as she approached the work table. "How many of mine have you picked?"

"Five so far, Sweety. And maybe you can come up with a few more because I haven’t settled on the final play list," he replied as he unplugged the machine. Then he rose up from the table and looked at her earnestly.

"But not now, huh?" she asked.

"Gina Martina?"

"Yes, Doc?" she answered.

Her father’s real name was Daniel, though everyone called him Doc. To Gina he was always Pop or Dad, depending on her mood, except when she heard him add her middle name and realized a serious talk was coming. Her response was her whimsical way of acknowledging the tone in his voice and Doc accepted this quirk with good natured humor.

"There’s something we need to discuss."

"Pop, I agree, but it’s too pretty a day to be doing indoor serious. Can it wait until we get to the park?"

"Sounds fair enough," he reasoned, patting her on the shoulder as she picked up her violin case. "How about we go get the picnic lunch ready?"

Gina was three years old the first time her parents took her to see a Shakespeare In The Park performance and she was mesmerized by the story, the actors, the costumes and the Renaissance music. From that moment on it became a family tradition that lasted until her mother’s illness.

Though she was excited that the tradition was being continued she wouldn’t allow her enthusiasm to interrupt her mission. The play was ‘Much Ado About Nothing’ and she researched it the night before, re-memorizing its basic story line in case she got distracted during the production. Gina also received some encouraging feedback from fellow amateur match makers while on-line and was confident she would have better success with the women she approached this evening. The most common suggestion was to have her father standing beside her when she introduced herself and Gina had to admit this was a flaw in her original plan. It made sense to her now because a polite single woman would feel obligated to respond with a kind hello and then, if she was interested enough, the conversation would take its own natural course.

Her father hung upside down on the monkey bars watching her climb the steps of the highest slide at the playground. Her long established routine, once at the top, was to push off quickly to accelerate her speed, then grab both railings midway down to slow her decent before reaching the end of the slide. She had taught herself this trick to spare her bottom from hitting the sand bed too hard. When she stood up and started to the steps again he called out to her.

"Gina Martina?"

"Pop, if it’s time to get serious it would help if you weren’t upside down," she playfully scolded her father as she approached him.

Doc flipped himself upright, then did an airborne somersault to land squarely on his feet. Gina applauded, then pointed towards an empty picnic table and he followed her there.

"Honey, it’s so sweet that you’ve taken it upon yourself to start playing cupid - " he started to say as they set across from each other at the table.

"Guess you noticed, huh?" she asked and when he nodded yes she added, "Well, you haven’t had much luck and I figured you needed some help."

"Probably do," he admitted, "because it’s been twelve years and I’m out of practice.’

"So you practiced on that Joan woman and that Betty woman? Pop, the first one was way too old fashioned for you and the second one was way too religious."

"Yeah, I figured that out soon enough, but I didn’t want to hurt your Aunt Alice’s or Uncle Roy’s feelings by saying no to their sincere efforts."

"And the others back home will be the same stuffy, boring kinds. That’s why I needed to get you back into the city towards girls who are more your type."

"Are you so sure you know what my type is?"

"Mom was."

"Honey, she was one of a kind, a gift from fate to both of us, but we can’t replace her."

"Jeeze, Pop, I know that and I don’t want to try, but there’s got to be someone who would love someone like you."

"Hey, I comb my teeth and brush my ears at least once a month," he teased her.

"We’re supposed to be serious now," was Gina’s retort. Then she stuck out her tongue to respond to his attempt at humor. "You’re not like most dads, you know. You listen to opera when you paint, you know, and you do serious things like rock climbing just for fun. You’re like a smart Tarzan with a tree house full of books and art who needs a Jane who’s just as smart as he is."

"Unique analogy, my little genius, but the chances of meeting a woman like that may be asking a lot these days."

"It happens all the time, Dad."

"Perhaps in romantic movies and novels."

"Mom knew it happened to real people. She called it serendipity."

"You knew this?"

"We never talked about it but I read the story you wrote last year about how you two first met, remember? You changed the names but it was about you and Mom and that’s what she called it in the story," she stated while rolling her eyes for effect.

"The thing I’m trying to say, Honey, is that finding a second right person by accident may not be that easy and I don’t want you to get your hopes up."

"I’m just improving your chances."

"Kiddo, you’re a little too mature for someone who just turned eleven years old," he stated with a hint of lament. Gina responded by pretending to pick her nose and flicking the imaginary bugger into the air. Doc grinned broadly at her defusing wit, then cautiously conceded, "Okay, if you’re that determined give it a shot. But work on being subtle and try not to embarrass us or them."

"Me, Pop? I’m more worried about you embarrassing us!" she countered and Doc laughed, then glanced at his watch.

"It’s time we went over the hill," he announced and Gina nodded in agreement.

The hill was actually a long, man-made flood control dyke that separated the larger area of the park from the Trinity River. On the other side of the dyke was a narrow strip of land, sandwiched between the river and dyke, where the festival was held every year. As they started up the hill Doc turned around to face the playground, then beat his chest with both hands.

"Not now, Dad!" she chided him because she knew what was about to happen.

"Hey, I’ve got a repetition to live up to."

He cupped his hands in front of his mouth and let out a blood curling Tarzan yell that was a respectable facsimile of Johnny Weissmuller’s famous vocal calling card. Suddenly, from the other side of the hill, they heard a female voice respond with her own version of the Tarzan yell.

Gina and her father scurried to the top of the dyke and peered down onto the grounds where the festival was being held. Although the trek to the top only took a moment neither of them could locate a woman, young or old, glancing up at them, at least not one who seemed to acknowledge they had returned the yell. When Doc shook his head and shrugged his shoulders Gina knew it was their cue to head towards their spot.

By the time they were seated on their picnic blanket the grassed area nearer the stage was packed and latecomers could only find places to watch farther up the hillside. And this was still a half hour before the performance started. In the past Gina loved this final waiting time because she relished hearing the musicians playing their Renaissance instruments as they slowly ambled through the crowd, but tonight she was preoccupied accessing the female spectators. After their earlier conversation, which she interpreted as having her father’s full support, she wasn’t even trying to appear subtle. Doc said nothing and simply let her be herself.

As she scanned the audience for possible prospects out of the corner of her eye Gina noticed the presents of two long, tanned legs stepping to the edge of their blanket. Her eyes quickly followed the lanky body up over a faded pair of cut-offs, then past a brightly colored tank top, until she found the face of a tall, red haired woman, wearing owl’s eye glasses, perhaps thirty-five, smiling down at her. Gina stared because she though she recognized her somehow.

"Excuse me, Miss," the redhead said to Gina. "I couldn’t get away from work in time to get a good seat and it’s my favorite Shakespearian play and I was just wondering if -"

"We’ve got all kinds of extra room," Gina responded quickly and, to prove her point, she pushed the picnic blanket behind her, then scooted closer to her father’s side of the blanket. When the redhead turned to Doc for his conformation he smiled, nodded and gestured with his hand for her to sit.

"We always reserve a place for honored guests."

‘Not bad, Dad. You’re learning fast,’ Gina thought to herself as she intensely watched the redhead seat herself in a lotus position, then reach behind her back to rest her water bottle against the picnic basket. ‘A tall southpaw. She’s a possible because all the lefties I know are cool people,’ Gina noted.

"I think I remember you from somewhere back when I was a kid," Gina told her when she was settled. The redhead peered over the top of her glasses, looking closely at her young co-spectator.

"Were you that precious little green eyed girl at one of my lectures a few years back who asked dozens of questions about the family lives of dinosaurs?"

"Uh, well, uh, I was just being curious," an embarrassed Gina admitted.

"And I hope you’ll always stay curious."

"You teach over at Science And History?" Doc asked her.

Before replying she studied him for a split-second, enough time to notice he also had green eyes. And she figured, both their hair color was auburn, they were probably father and daughter. And she noticed he wasn’t wearing a ring which meant he was either divorced or widowed.

"Not really a teacher. The lectures I volunteer to do because it’s fun and I learn a lot from the kids. I’m actually one of the curators. I design most of the exhibits and when I have time I help with the painting of the displays," the redhead offered.

"That’s cool," Gina responded, beaming with admiration. "My dad’s an artist, too. And a lefty just like you."

‘Oh," the redhead exclaimed to Gina, impressed by her keen observation.

"Hi, I’m Daniel," Doc told her as he reached his hand over his daughter’s head, smiling when the redhead warmly shook it.

"But everyone calls him Doc," Gina added.

"And this little aspiring virtuoso and fledgling curmudgeon is Gina."

"He also writes," Gina explained to the redhead in a near whisper, almost an apology.

"I would have never guessed," the redhead replied in her own near whisper, followed by a gentle laugh. Then she offered Gina her hand and said, "Hello again, Gina. My name’s Jane."

As the wide-eyed, bemused Gina smiled at her several musicians blew antique horns to announce to the audience the curtain was going up.

"You’re name’s Jane?’ Doc asked over the horns. Jane nodded yes and playfully tapped her chest with her fists.

"No talking now, Dad. We’re here to watch the play," Gina replied with a wide grin on her face.

END