Is anger something
you can outgrow?
Can anyone do it
with practice? Dad Maybe it’s a gender
has never quite thing. I think I take
mastered the talent. after Dad, carrying
anger like he does,
tight in my muscles,
unable to quite let go.
I don’t feel like I’m
mad most of the time,
but it isn’t hard to let
all that stored anger But it’s hard to talk
come rippling out. about resentment,
I should get help. bottled up inside.
I have it easier than
most people. So why
feel sorry for myself?
Not like very many
people have intact
families. One parent
or the other is likely Looking at it that way,
absent. Shacked up I’m pretty normal. So
Knocked up. Fucked up. why do I feel like some
sort of a freak? Bigger
question: Why take it
out on people I love?
ALL THIS FILTERS THROUGH
My brain in the time it takes
Mom to cream two cups of
butter with two cups of brown
sugar, add two eggs, and beat
well. And despite every warning,
once the mixer noise stops,
I have to spout words I swore
to keep to myself so as not to
hurt her. “I met my father.”
Well, of course you met your
f—, she starts, back to me.
Her shoulders tense, and very
slowly, she turns toward me.
Your father? Are you sure?
She studies my face intently.
I nod. “Pretty sure …”
And I tell her the story, starting
with noticing piebald eyes
in the crowd at the Christmas
parade and ending with the X
holiday party. Deep breath.
I DIDN’T THINK
Talking about it would bother
me so much, but my hands quiver
and my breathing falls shallow.
Mom notices, comes over to
me. She takes my hands in hers,
presses gently. You okay?
I wish I were little again so
she could wrap me in her arms
like she used to. I remember
how, growing up, I wanted to
be taller than her, always kept
measuring. Then one day, I was.
It was better before. I look down
into her eyes. “Yeah. I’m okay.
I just never really expected
to meet him. Or that I might
actually like him. It was easier
hating him for what he did.”
Mom tugs gently, sits me
at the table. Resentment is
always easier than forgiveness.
SHE SITS BESIDE ME
Pulls her spine straight,
making her still nowhere near
as tall as me. Yet her presence
seems larger than life.
Do you have any idea why
Leigh isn’t here yet?
I shake my head. Smile.
“Didn’t want to ask. I figured
once she got here, I’d end
up sleeping on the floor.”
She laughs. Futon, remember?
Then she gets serious again.
You know Leigh has never really
forgiven her father, right?
Well, Wayne was recently arrested
for a large quantity of marijuana.
He cooperated with authorities,
and they left him on house arrest,
which turned out to be a good
thing because he just had a major
heart attack. It wasn’t his first, and
they don’t think he’s going to make
it. Leigh flew back to Albuquerque
to basically say good-bye.
Wow. I’m sort of stunned.
He is my grandfather and now
I’ll never get to know him. Not
that I ever wanted to know him,
because of the things that happened
a long time ago. Things that will
never be rectified. God, why does
my life continue to be defined
by other people’s decisions? “Why didn’t
he ever try to be a part of our lives?”
Mom shrugs. Maybe he didn’t know
how to say he was sorry.
Or maybe he was afraid
we wouldn’t believe it.
SUDDEN COMMOTION
As a wet puppy bounds into
the room, followed by an excited
David. Come back here, Sasha!
Fu. German for “heel.”
Surprisingly, Sasha obeys,
coming round to sit at David’s
left side. Good girl. Good Sasha.
When he moves, she moves too.
“Wow. I’m impressed. You
going to work Sasha, David?”
Before Mom’s life got too busy,
she used to work her dogs, Schutzhund
fashion. Police-dog-style training
is incredibly demanding on both animals
and trainers. Might be really good
for David. Donald, too, if he’d do it.
There’s still a club out here,
Mom says to me. Scott has taken
David and Sasha to a couple
of sessions. I think they like it.
I do, agrees David. They say
I’m kind of young, but I’m not
the only kid. Sasha likes it too.
And she’s kind of young too.
SMART KID
It’s good to see him so engaged.
Donald, on the other hand, really
worries me. Mostly he just sits
around, playing computer games
or watching TV. Except when Dad
makes him get up and do something.
Dad, in fact, seems to be the only
one who can convince him to
behave even halfway civilized.
Mom has him in therapy. “Severe
emotional detachment,” was
the diagnosis, “probably caused
by early childhood trauma.”
Yeah, like his parents’ (one or
the other or both) meth-fueled rages,
resulting in fists to his face.
I remember him visiting us once,
decorated with knuckle-shaped bruises.
Such treatment can only erect walls
inside a kid. One between him and pain.
Another between him and love.
WHEN DID I BECOME A PHILOSOPHER?
I’ve got my own walls, and they
were not built by abuse or neglect.
I should probably go into therapy
myself, try and figure out why
I would so willingly sabotage
a relationship that means everything
to me. What am I, fucking stupid?
Okay, I am totally fricking stupid.
Here I thought I was using Leah, and
she totally used me. Set me up
completely. When she programmed
her number into my phone, she also
called herself, so she’d have my
number too. Like I said. Stupid.
And now I’m mad all over again.
At her. At myself. I get up, kiss
Mom on the forehead. “Let’s finish
those cookies.” Mindless activity,
that’s what I need. Maybe by not
thinking at all, my brain will come up
with a way to get Nikki to forgive me.
COOKIES IN THE OVEN
>
Mindless
activity finished for now,
my brain has failed me completely.
Dad and Donald are in the front
hall, shaking snow off their boots,
hats. Almost unbelievably, Donald
is laughing. A new wall goes up.
Jealousy.
Weird. Really, really weird. Why
do I feel that way? Maybe because
Dad and I haven’t talked in years,
at least not about stuff that matters.
And the last time we laughed
together? I really can’t remember.
I want
us to be close again. We were
when I was young. Then, I guess,
I made him into “the enemy,”
the one who said no to giving me
money (for weed) or borrowing
the car (to party). What I forgot was
his love.
GOD, I’M MAUDLIN TODAY
Must be all the obvious Christmas cheer,
and how it doesn’t cheer me. Mom has
always been big on making the house
look Good Housekeeping gorgeous.
Electric trains. Ceramic villages.
Multicolored garland and lights,
strung on banisters and door jambs.
The tree, a twelve-foot blue spruce,
is hung with ornaments collected for
almost forty years. Wreaths. Poinsettias,
in four shades and varied heights.
Candles in holiday colors, scented
cranberry and bayberry and vanilla.
And outside? Colored lights and white
icicle lights and a giant lit Santa’s sleigh.
You can see this place clear across
the valley. When I was a kid, I loved
it. Now it seems a little ostentatious.
Wonder if Mom and Dad would have
gone so all out without the boys here.
SAID BOYS
Disappear into their (my) room.
Mom vanishes into her office
to write. New book. Fantasy.
Dad decides to work on dinner,
something he often does even
when Mom is home. Chef Dad.
I sit at the table, munching cookies,
watching him season the roast.
Here is a chance to talk about
something that matters. Like?
“So, Dad …” Do I dare ask?
Oh, why the hell not? “Have
you ever cheated on Mom?”
He looks up, humor in his eyes.
Is this some sort of a test?
Do you have a hidden recorder?
That makes me smile. “No,
no. This isn’t about blackmail.
And you don’t have to answer.
I just wondered because …”
Because of what happened with Nikki?
And here I always thought Mom was
the psychic. “Uh … kinda … yes.”
He lines a baking pan with foil.
Nestles the roast inside. I thought
that might be it. One of your listeners?
Oh my God. He is psychic.
“Yeah, that’s right. And I swear
I don’t even know why I did it.
But how did you know?”
Hunter, I used to be in radio,
remember? I know how it is when
a pretty girl throws herself at you.
Good. He gets it. God, I’m glad
he’s been there, except …
“But you never got caught.”
No, Hunter. See, I never said
okay, not once I’d made a solid
commitment to your mom. I just
couldn’t take a chance on losing her.
THIS COULD TURN INTO A LECTURE
And it sort of does.
Believe me, there were
plenty of willing women.
Some really didn’t want
to take no for an answer.
I nod. Because I know.
But your mom came to me
already wounded. I had
to win her trust. Destroying
that trust was unthinkable.
Dad and the moral high road.
Even beyond my time in
radio, there have been plenty
of temptations over the years.
I’m sure for your mom, too.
Mom? Women are tempted?
But with as much as she has
to travel with her books,
if either of us had to worry
about that, where would we be?
Has Nikki been tempted too?
We’re married, of course.
That is a stronger commitment
than living together. Although
Nikki would probably argue that.
NO DOUBT ABOUT IT
For Nikki, living together meant
every bit as much as having a piece
of paper giving us the legal right.
I still have no idea what my next
move should be. How can I make
this up to her? Dad puts the roast
into the oven. Washes some big
potatoes. Wraps them in foil.
“Do you ever wonder where
you would be if you hadn’t met
Mom? She told me once that when
you first met, your dream was
to be the next Johnny Carson….”
I didn’t know who that was, so I looked
him up. He was pretty famous back then.
“Does it bother you that you’re not
a late-night TV host? Or that Mom got
to be the famous one instead of you?”
He keeps working but laughs softly.
Hey, I’ve still got time. Seriously,
though, sure, it’s bothered me.
But we don’t always get what
we want. I didn’t get to be a star,
but I did get to be something
special—your mom’s husband.
And your father. Those things mean
more to me than hosting late-night TV.
“Seriously? Because sometimes
you seem resentful. Not that I blame
you. You didn’t ask for me.”
The potatoes join the roast in the oven.
You’re right. We didn’t ask for you.
But I have never resented becoming
your father. Your mom and I made
that choice willingly, with our eyes
wide open. Yes, sometimes I get mad
about things beyond my control.
Not that it’s useful or changes
anything. It’s just human nature.
Anger is a valid emotion. It’s only
bad when it takes control and makes
you do things you don’t want to do.
I GUESS I CAN’T BLAME ANGER
For the Leah incident.
Lack of self-control isn’t
always about being pissed.
Sometimes it’s sheer greed.
Something Dad said filters
back to me now.
Not once I’d made a solid
commitment to your mom …
“You said you never
cheated on Mom once
you committed to her.
How about before that?”
He decides how to answer.
I was dating a couple
of other people at the time.
So, yes, I guess I did.
Okay. This could quite
possibly be useful. “So did
Mom find out?” She had to,
right? She’s not exactly dense.
Actually, she did. And
when I saw how hurt
she was, it really made
me think. She was the one
I loved. I didn’t want to
l
ose her. That’s when I
decided playing around
just wasn’t worth it.
Dad got Mom back, so
there’s hope. But, “What
did you say to make Mom
give you another chance?”
He smiles. I told her if
I ever messed around again,
she could cut off my balls.
At my horrified expression,
Dad amends, Not really. Look.
There’s no secret formula here.
Give it a few days. My guess is,
once Nikki cools off, she’ll be
missing you. Then go to her and
tell her you know you screwed
up big-time, but you love her too
much to let things end like this.
It may not work. But Nikki loves
you, and if you love her, too,
what have you got to lose?
Just be sure to follow through.
FEELING MARGINALLY BETTER
And semi-jacked-up on chocolate
chip cookies, I think maybe I’ll
ask the boys if they want to break
out the sleds. The driveway is perfect,
as long as we build up a berm across
the bottom. Not that there will be much
traffic out in a storm like this. I am
considering digging around in the garage
when the phone rings. Once. Dad
and I look at each other, some strange
kind of understanding building between
us. Suddenly David dashes into the room,
Sasha nipping at his heels. Mommy’s
coming for Christmas! he shouts.
Mom follows. Her public defender
argued illegal search and seizure,
she explains. The judge agreed. All
charges against her were dropped.
Kristina talks her way out of another
predicament. Christmas drama to come.
Autumn
LONELINESS AND LIQUOR
Are best friends. Too bad I haven’t
had any liquor since the wedding.
Loneliness is eating me alive.
No more Aunt Cora. No word from Bryce.
Grandfather in bed with some ailment.
Much too much time on my hands.
If there were any alcohol in the place,
I’d be dropped-on-my-knees drunk.
Instead I keep cleaning. Organizing.
There isn’t a speck of dirt anywhere.
Except, no doubt, in Grandfather’s room.
I avoid going in there. It stinks.
Stinks like old man. Stinks like a feeble
old man, flat on his back for three days.