The Bull Years

by Phil Stern

  “All right.” Accelerating out onto the street, I deftly transferred the phone to a free hand. “What’s up?”

  “Well, dear, your father and I had a long talk.”

  “Yeah. And?” My favorite gas station was a ten-minute detour. I didn’t really have the extra time, but I just adored their coffee. They also usually had the west coast papers, which were often easier to read in print than online…

  “Well, your father says he wants to divorce me to start another family with your sister’s friend Nicole.”

  “What!” Somehow I managed to avoid rear-ending the idiot in front of me, who chose that particular moment to jam on his own brakes for a last-second turn. Breathing heavily, I pulled off to the side of the road. “Tell me. What’s going on?”

  To make a long story short, Dad had simply approached my mother the night before last, brusquely informing her that he would be moving in with Nicole. They’d live in a house nearby he’d recently purchased without Mom’s knowledge. By way of explanation, Dad said he wished to start a new family with Liz’s “innocent” young friend.

  Stunned, I gripped the now inert steering wheel with one hand. “Mom, where’s Dad now?”

  “I don’t know.” If anything, Mom sounded a bit puzzled. “He left right after our talk, and I haven’t seen him since.”

  “What? He didn’t come home?”

  “No dear.”

  “Since the night before last?”

  “That’s right, Sophia.”

  “But Mom! Why didn’t you…” Forcing myself to relax, I took a deep breath. Jumping on her wouldn’t help things. “Okay. So why didn’t you call me before now?”

  “Well, dear, I just didn’t know what to think.”

  “Didn’t know what to think? Your husband tells you he’s divorcing you for a whore, and you don’t know what to think?”

  “Sophia, that’s not very Christian of you,” Mom chided. Even now, with her world spinning out of control, she found the time to correct me. “Your father did say he wished to marry this girl, so this doesn’t make her a whore.”

  “Mom! For God’s sake, I wasn’t speaking euphemistically! Nicole is a call girl!”

  “A what, dear?”

  “A whore, prostitute, tramp, strumpet…” I struggled for more synonyms. “Harlot, trollop…”

  “Sophia, please…”

  “Lady of the night!” I yelled. “Working girl! Whatever!”

  “My goodness, Sophia! You’re talking about a friend of your sister’s!”

  Groaning, I let my head fall against the wheel. “All right. So what have you been doing for the last 36 hours?”

  “Praying.” There was a note of satisfaction in my mother’s voice, as if amid great crisis she still hadn’t forgotten what was important in life. “And getting counseling from Father Mulroney.”

  “Mom, please. Now’s not the time…”

  “Father says the Lord works in mysterious ways,” I was informed. “He also says God is testing my faith, but if I put my trust in Him…”

  And on it went. Telling Mom I’d be by a little later on, I then cancelled my interview and contacted the Westchester County property appraiser’s office. Sure enough, Dad had purchased a new house in an upscale neighborhood a few miles from my childhood home. I then drove straight from Philadelphia to Scarsdale, arriving at my father’s new abode around two in the afternoon.

  Along the way I called my brother Michael, who knew nothing of Dad’s new domestic arrangement. We agreed I would handle this alone for now.

  Pulling up right in front of the beautiful Colonial, I thoughtfully killed the engine. It was almost a picture perfect home, with soft trees and a well-manicured yard. Anyone driving by would think an established, prosperous, normal family lived there. Fortifying myself with a last swig of coffee, I then purposefully hopped out of my trendy yellow sports car, traversing the long walk up to the porch and front door with soft clacks of my designer shoes.

  During the drive, of course, I’d prepared myself by imagining a dozen different scenarios for just this moment. In all I was stoic and firm, insisting my father return home immediately. Surprising myself, though, I nearly burst into tears when my father opened the door.

  “Daddy,” I cried out. “What’s going on?”

  “Sophia.” Smiling, my father seemed oddly relaxed. “I’m glad you’re here. Please, come in.”

  “But Daddy, what is all this? Why are you here?”

  Before he could answer, Nicole herself wandered up to stand beside him. This was seemingly a very different young woman from the unrepentant hussy I’d first met two years before. Dressed in tasteful slacks and a white blouse, hair falling softly about her shoulders, my father reflexively put a protective arm around her.

  “Sophia, you remember Nicole,” Dad gravely announced. “Nicole, my daughter, Sophia Danton.”

  “Hello,” the girl said, leaning her head against my father’s strong chest with undisguised intimacy. “So good to meet you again, Sophia.”

  “Please, dear. Why don’t you come in?” Shuffling back a step, my father indicated I should enter. Hesitating only a moment, I carefully crossed the threshold into my father’s new home.

  The first thing I noticed was Dad’s ship collection grandly displayed in the living room. Dragged up from perpetual banishment in my father’s study at home, the proud vessels now sailed across the tops of tasteful bookcases, shelves, and mantle tops with wild abandon. The U.S.S. Bonhomme Richard, the latest addition to the miniature fleet, occupied a place of honor over the fireplace.

  “Please, sit,” Dad intoned, motioning me to an extravagant sofa beneath a large bay window. Hesitantly I perched on the edge of the cushion, unconsciously clutching my bag to my side.

  “Would you like something to drink?” Nicole politely offered. “Coffee, perhaps?”

  “Yes. It’s still a bit early for anything stronger,” my father admonished, as if I was generally accustomed to boozing it up in the early afternoon.

  “No, thank you.” Sighing, I addressed myself directly to the 20-something young woman cohabitating with my sixty-one year old dad. “Nicole, I have some things to discuss privately with my father. Would you mind excusing us?”

  I half-expected Dad to explode with indignation, but after a moment of awkward silence he turned look at her. “If you don’t mind, my dear. I’m sure my daughter has many questions best addressed between us.”

  “Of course, Claude,” she replied, kissing him demurely on the forehead. Somehow, her use of my father’s first name seemed almost obscene. A moment later she was gone, leaving us alone.

  “Father,” I slowly began. “What on earth is happening here? How can you leave mother like this?”

  “Sophia, please. Let me explain.” Sitting forward, Dad carefully considered his next words. “Your mother and I haven’t seen eye to eye on many things for a long time now.”

  “Mother can be very difficult. I know that,” I said. “But Daddy, how could you…”

  “I’m still young enough to start a new family,” he interrupted. “Nicole is pure and good. She deserves a family and home of her own. I can provide that.”

  Pausing a moment, I tried to smile. “Daddy, how did this all come about? And how long have you been, uh, seeing one another?”

  As it turned out, not for very long. A month ago they’d run into one another at the supermarket, which my father had gotten in the habit of visiting for long shopping trips as a means of escaping Mom. Apparently Dad had never forgotten the “pure” young girl from that disastrous dinner two years before. Clearly, things had quickly progressed from there.

  “So you see, Sophia,” Dad concluded. “Nicole is the kind of pure young woman I’ve wished to be with for many years now. To start a new family.”

  “A new family?” I indignantly repeated.

  “This has nothing to do with your mother,” Dad firmly announced. “She’s a good woman, in her way. But Nicole needs my help and guidan
ce. Together, we can create something new and lasting. And that is what I want.”

  Wow. There was dead silence in the room, save for the sonorous ticking of an expensive grandfather clock in the corner. “Father, I’m not even sure where to begin.”

  “Perhaps you should congratulate me.” Almost smirking, Dad now sat back. “Nicole may already be with child. This will be a joyous occasion for the entire family.”

  Joyous occasion? The old rages began boiling to the fore. Tightly grasping the couch cushion, I tried to remain calm. “Daddy, you’re abandoning my mother, the woman to whom you’ve been married for nearly four decades, for a girl almost ten years younger than I am. I’d hardly call that a ‘joyous occasion.’”

  “But my dear…”

  “And what business do you have starting a new family? For God’s sake, you’re sixty-one years old!”

  “Sophia, please.” In that infuriating way of his, Dad dismissed me with a wave and a shrug. “I know this must all seem very sudden for you…”

  “Sudden? Is that all you have to say? This is all very sudden?” Visions of my father pushing a beautiful white pair of sweat pants over a counter so many years ago now blazed before my eyes. “And actually, Daddy, it’s not so sudden! Actually, it’s very typical. All you care about is yourself!”

  But it didn’t sink in. “Sophia, I understand how emotional you can be.” Clearly tuning me out, Dad looked away. “Perhaps we should discuss this another time.”

  “No, Daddy. Let’s discuss it now!” Insistently slapping the couch cushion, I had to force myself to remain seated. “How much do you really know about Nicole?”

  Surprised, he considered a moment. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean her past. Her…experiences.” Boy, was I treading on dangerous ground here. “I mean, you just met her a month ago!”

  “What’s your point, Sophia?”

  “My point is this is all rather quick. And selfish! And impetuous! And demeaning to your whole family!” By this point I was running on autopilot, a rocky mountainside looming closer and closer.

  Dismissively, he waved me off. “Sophia, please. I’ve been a good father and husband. But now this is what God wants.”

  “What God wants?” Shocked, I flung my purse aside, a defensive weapon unsuited for attack. “God would want you to respect your wedding vows!”

  “Sophia…”

  “God would not countenance living in sin with a girl younger than your own daughter!”

  “That’s enough!” Dad bellowed, struggling to his feet. “This isn’t about you! This is about me, and what I want!”

  “That’s right, Daddy! It is about you!” Rising myself, we now faced each other across the short space, as if squaring off for battle. “So don’t tell me this is what God wants! God wants nothing of the sort!”

  Nicole now stuck her head around the corner. “Is everything all right in here?”

  “Yes. Leave us!” I snapped, peremptorily waving her away. Dad didn’t object. She left.

  “You,” I seethed, pointing at him, “wanted a pure, holy wife, and what you got was Mom! How old was she, 20 or so, when you guys got married?”

  “That’s correct, Sophia.”

  “She wasn’t even a real person yet!” Throwing up my arms, I spun around in a frustrated circle, much like when I was a child. “But Mom was holy and virginal, and that’s all you cared about!”

  “Sophia, your mother has been a good woman, in her own way…”

  “And she’s also been infuriating as hell. I get that!” Now my own finger flung out, pointing vaguely in Nicole’s direction. “But now you’ve found another young woman to pursue fantasies with! Another child bride, but from a very different generation. But you can’t wind back the clock that way! Don’t you see how wrong this is?”

  Brusquely sitting back down, Dad was clearly trying to remain calm. “Nicole is mature enough to make her own decisions, and she’s decided to be with me.”

  “What is Nicole? 23? Hey Dad, that’s a real mature woman, isn’t it?”

  “Enough, Sophia.”

  “You know something, Dad? I wouldn’t even mind if you properly divorced Mom to spend time with a woman your own age.”

  “I said that’s enough.”

  “But you can’t handle an equal,” I accused, sitting back down myself. “You don’t want to talk to anybody. You just want to be listened to! And when somebody insists you listen to them, you just tune them out! It’s infuriating!”

  “Sophia, we’ve had plenty of conversations…”

  “No, we have listening sessions, from you, or you ignore everyone completely! Don’t you see the difference?”

  “Is that what this is really about?” Looking right at me, Dad’s right eyelid began twitching. “You and me, Sophia?”

  I thought about that a long time, staring off into space. The grandfather clock ticked away, Dad calmly waiting.

  “Daddy, why did you shoot those squirrels?” I finally asked. “When I was young. At the cabin. Why, Daddy? Why would you hurt them?”

  Now it was his turn to stare off. “They were in the way,” he slowly replied. “You can’t have squirrels living in the house.”

  “But they weren’t hurting anything!” I cried out, as if he’d shot them the day before. “The squirrels just wanted a place to live! And they knew they had to go when we came. They weren’t hurting anything!”

  “Sophia.” With a great sigh, Daddy shook his head. “That was so long ago…”

  “And you wanted to drown the one I saved! A baby squirrel, with no one to care for her!” Now I began crying, hands balled tightly. “Why, Daddy? Why did you do that?”

  Eyes drifting closed, Daddy rubbed the bridge of his nose like he used to do when there was a problem at work. “Sophia, you were a child. But things are not so simple…”

  “And now you want to abandon Mommy! For a girl you don’t even know!” Desperately digging in my purse, I pulled out a tissue. “How can you be so selfish, Daddy? How?”

  “Sophia, I actually thought that you, of all people, would understand.” My father now appeared a bit puzzled. “I expected Liz to be angry. And Michael and Brian. But you? I really thought you’d support me in this.”

  Flabbergasted, I nearly dropped the tissue. “Support you? What on earth are you talking about?”

  “Sophia, you’ve always pursued your own pleasures, no matter what anyone thought. You’ve cared nothing for convention, or the Bible, or anything.”

  What? I felt a stab of dread strike deep within my own soul. “Is that how you see me, father? Is that really what you think?”

  “Yes.” He said it simply, easily, an obvious fact beyond contention. “And I’ve come to admire that in you. When you want something, you don’t care who you hurt. We don’t matter. The Lord Himself doesn’t matter. You go for it. You make yourself feel better no matter what.”

  “That’s not true!” I nearly spat out, hands gripping the cushion once more. “What, just because I haven’t always been Daddy’s little girl, I’m some crazed freak? A lunatic? A whore? Is that what you think?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying…”

  “Yes it is! That’s exactly what you’re saying! Well, guess what, Daddy? The joke’s on you!”

  “What does that mean?” he quietly said, calm eyes resting on me. “What are you saying, Sophia?”

  What was I saying? Sitting back, I thought very quickly.

  Now, at that moment, I had the power to scuttle Dad’s new life, telling him the truth about his “pure” young bride. Which was exactly what he deserved. Daddy was being mean, selfish, and stupid. He was trying to live a ridiculous fantasy. This girl was taking advantage of him. I could put a stop to all that.

  But then what? Daddy would have to slink back home in humiliation, where Mom would whip him mercilessly until the end of time. Is that really what I wanted? No matter how silly this all was, and how badly he was screwing up, could I consign my father
to that kind of fate?

  And if Daddy knew of Nicole’s past, he’d inevitably find out about Liz’s career in prostitution. That would pretty much destroy my parents’ relationship with my sister. And since Liz was barely hanging on as it was, I shuddered to even think of the repercussions there.

  And what if Nicole really was pregnant already? What would happen then? Would Daddy disavow the child? Would Nicole take him to court? Would this all become horrifically public? And as bad as all this was for Mom now, wouldn’t that all make it even worse?

  “I’m saying,” I began, making a sudden decision, “that you can take responsibility for your own decisions. Leave Mom or not, take up with someone else if you choose…but don’t blame me.”

  Dad stared at me evenly for several moments. “All right.”

  “But know this, Daddy.” I tried to glare. “In my life I’ve never done what you’re doing now. And if I ever did get married, I’d honor that commitment no matter what!” It sounded rather hollow, even to my own ears, but it was the best I could do.

  But instead of getting angry, Dad suddenly smiled. “Fair enough, my dear.” Struggling to his feet, he now held out his arms, like he did when I was a little girl. Numbly I stood as well, accepting his embrace. “We’ll just say it’s time for me to move on, into this next phase of my life.”

  “Fine,” I sighed, head dropping onto his shoulder. “That’s what we’ll say.”

  Driving away from Daddy’s new place, angrily flipping around the radio dial, the voice of Steve Levine suddenly burst over me. It was a scratchy signal from a distance away, but I could still make out most of it.

  Steve was debating an interesting immigration issue, making some good points and obviously having a lot of fun. He then took phone calls on which Hollywood actress his listeners would most like to receive oral sex from. There were some interesting answers. I was fascinated, pulling into a parking lot so I could listen to the last 45 minutes of his show uninterrupted.

  And you know what? I felt more than a little jealous. Here I was, sent helplessly from one lame assignment to another, or talking sedately with some ignorant talking head on television, while Steve got to really dig into things. Give his opinion, express himself completely. Even make fun of people who obviously deserved it! I could picture him sitting behind a microphone, bold and beautiful, standing up for what he believed. It was amazing.