Exceptional A flirting Vivian Vivian on the prowl by Mary Vigasin Share Your Story contest entry

Every summer when Dad was on vacation, my Aunt Tangie put him to work on the farm picking string beans. Dad was a tall, big-boned man with soft features in his mid-forties; the shadow of the schoolboy football player was still visible in his muscular arms and shoulders; however, he was beginning to develop a beer belly. I wonder if my aunt had other reasons for putting Dad to work. Maybe, he was put in the field because he perspired so much; my aunt saw it as watering the plants; perhaps it was to help him lose his growing beer belly, but this was defeated as soon as dad stopped picking and reached for a cold beer. Another probable reason is that he looked like a living scarecrow; Dad wore a large, brimmed straw beach hat, grey work pants cut off at the knee, a light blue knit shirt darkened by perspiration, white socks, and black leather shoes. His look certainly would scare away crows or any other living creature. On the weekends, Dad looked forward to the bonfires, beer, playing cribbage, more beer, watching the kids play baseball, swimming in the pond, and relaxing and drinking with my aunt and uncle. This one summer, his relaxation was often disrupted when Vivian visited. "I'm just funning with ya." Vivian explained as she pulled her arm off my dad's shoulder. She stroked his cheek and sang, "You are my sunshine." in a scratchy, gruff voice. The panic on his face must have signaled her to back off. Not wanting to offend, Dad did not want to push her away, but he also wanted her to go away. After a few more beers, Vivian was back flirting with my dad. Her mouth twisted to the side as she sang "Bill Bailey" and danced slowly, awkwardly around the campfire. She took the scarf from her neck, reached out, and put it around Dad's neck. He grumbled, grabbed a beer bottle, and headed to the outhouse wearing a flowery scarf. On Sundays, Vivian would arrive at the farm wearing her "roughing it" outfit. It was usually a brightly colored knit shirt pulled tight to cover her bulging stomach, Her flat butt in white pedal pusher pants, and silver sandals. The ever-present scarf and a flower in her bottled black hair completed her outfit. Her thin lips were heavily outlined in red lipstick. With each visit to the farm, Vivian would shamelessly flirt with my dad calling him "My boyfriend." I was concerned for dad, his discomfort, and the horror of having Vivian as a stepmother. My fears were put to rest by my Aunt Tangie: "I have known Vivian for years; this is her having fun. She means no harm. I told your dad to tell her to back off, but he did not want to hurt her feelings. She means it when she says she was just funning with him." My cousins, however, had a field day teasing their "Unk' about his girlfriend, Vivian. They knew how to embarrass their uncle. Each time they mentioned Vivian, my dad's face would turn a bright red; when Vivian was around, that face was as red as an overripe tomato with thinning hair. Dad realized that each time Vivian came, my cousins would be sure to make room at the table so Vivian would sit next to him. He decided to outsmart them. He pulled an old, webbed aluminum chair from the back shed and sat to enjoy the bonfire. When Vivian arrived, she made a beeline toward Dad and sat on his lap. The old chair gave away under the weight of the two, and they landed on the ground. Before anyone could help them up, Vivian, with a deep-throated belly laugh, stroked dad's cheek and said: "I told you I would sweep you off your feet!" Recognized Author Notes The general outline is very true. Vivian flirted shamelessly with my Dad one summer. I know he was uncomfortable when she flirted with him. One thing I realized in writing this is that when dad passed away at 65, it was the first time I assigned an age to him. Even on his birthdays, we never mentioned his age. Yet there were milestones in his life, a widower at 35, visiting the farm in his 40s, a job loss at 50, his mom's passing when he was 55, and doing janitor work at 60. To us, he was just Dad.

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