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Show 57 ELEVEN Parker arrived early at the Senior Citizens Recreation Center and began unloading the sound equipment from the back of his pickup. Five minutes later, Mrs. Simpson drove up in her Datsun. "Let me help you," she called to Parker, though she herself was balancing two large boxes as she got out of the car. "I think this does it," he said.^Waiting for her with a speaker in each hand, he was glad he'd changed from jeans into his good cords and a sport coat. She held the door, then followed him inside. "Oh look!" she exclaimed. "Isn't it beautiful?" Parker smiled. He knew she'd like it. At one end of the long room Jan's committee had made a false ceiling of twisted crepe paper under which he had set up the mike stand, A strobe light was mounted on one side of the temporary stage and a portable spot on the other. Card tables filled the rest of the room, each covered with bright paper and centered with one of Dyna's decorated bottles. The posters that Jan had been bugging the class for all week marched up and down the bleak cinderblock walls, transforming the bingo parlor into a cozy bistro. Mr6. Simpson took her boxes to the kitchenette, returned with a chocolate doughnut in each hand. "We'd better sample these, hadn't we, Parker? I didn't have time to eat." Parker wiped his hands on his pants. "Hey, thanks!" he said, smiling. He hadn't eaten much dinner, either, but it was plain old anxiety that canceled his appetite. Three bites later, he was back assembling the mike, nervous as ever. By the time he'd set up the tape recorder and had the music appropriately subdued, the first arrivals were at the door. Mrs. Simpson walked back to the entry, her heels in syncopation with the beat, to do the welcoming. It was Dyna and her group of old people. Behind them through the open door, Parker glimpsed their taxi pull away from the curb. He felt a stab of guilt: he could have driven them over from Liberty Park in three minutes. Dyna began making introductions right off. "This is my grammy," he heard her say. |
