The Billionaire Bull

by Romi Hart

  My voice roared with insolence, ordering my father to meet me in the cave. I'd never yelled at my dad before. Dazed eyes looked up at me from their tables. The man in the corner angled his iPhone to get a full shot of me. I scowled at the camera and quickly stomped away with my father following me.

  As we walked to the buey cave, anger, frustration, along with mortification bubbled inside me. Once we were in the cave without prying eyes, I couldn’t hold in my muddling emotions any longer.

  The monster inside of me wouldn’t let me go. With huge bulky fists, the monster pulled out all my frustrations and anger over the years and crammed them up into my throat. Vile words shot out of my mouth. Words, I instantly regretted and could not take back. My father’s angry face melted away. I could see the tragic hurt in his eyes staring back at me.

  Once my father stormed out, the monster shrank away, leaving me alone with myself to face my unbearable actions. My father was still my father. I had crossed the line of disrespect. I knew I’d made him feel insignificant in my life, which was far from the truth.

  When Alex came, he scooped me up into his arms. The recollection of my actions made the world spiral around me with violent force. I thought I was going to collapse. As I sobbed, I held onto him tightly, scared the floor would give out from underneath me.

  Ashamed, I looked up at Alex. His tourmaline eyes were dimmed with concern. “I told my dad that it was because of him…” A large sob flew up out of my mouth. I could barely speak.

  Alex held me tighter. “It’s okay. Let it all out.”

  Taking I deep breath, I continued. “I told him he was the reason why we’d never become a three-starred restaurant. I told him that if he hadn’t been so unreasonable and unbearably controlling, my mother would have never left and we would have never lost a Michelin star. I told him he singlehandedly destroyed our restaurant.”

  I knew how much the lost star wounded my dad. I shook my head hardly believing I had been so cruel. My dad had worked so hard and cared about his restaurant so much. He cultivated his buey, devoted to the entire process from birth, life, death, curation, and preparation.

  My mother disappearing out of our lives wasn’t my dad’s fault. She wanted to go and live another life. Even if she hadn’t wanted to live with my father anymore, she still could have been our mother. She could have called, visited, even wrote us.

  Why had I said the worst things possible to my father?

  Alex kept hugging me as I continued on. I poured everything out, hoping he wouldn’t think what a terrible person I was, “I said he ruined everything. But I was talking about you and me. How he took something so beautiful between us and tried to destroy it.”

  Alex softly spoke into my ear, “He hasn’t destroyed us. I’m still here.”

  Bitterly, I looked up at the ceiling at the buey, who witnessed my horrific behavior with my father who had done so much for us. My heart ached. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. Ironically, I’d become an irrational monster overtaken by my emotions, the very thing I was berating my dad for doing.

  I clutched Alex fiercely recalling the sadness on my father's face. "He said he’s leaving. Packing up his things. He’s going to disappear like my mother.” I sobbed afraid I’d lost my father forever.

  Alex pulled away from me to look at my face. “Leaving?”

  I nodded terrified my dad was already back at home packing right at the moment. “He said that we didn’t need him anymore. That the restaurant was ours now. We could take over since he couldn’t do anything right. He said we were better off without him just like my mother.”

  Alex’s eyes looked far away, past me. “He said that?”

  “Yes. He said he’s going to disappear forever and never come back.” I cried in frustration. “But I didn’t mean any of the things I said. I was just angry and wanted to hurt him. But I think I really hurt him, Alex. I think he is really going to disappear like my mom did.” I shook with my sobs. My hands gripped Alex’s arms. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Alex’s arms dropped to his sides. Something I had said struck him. His eyes narrowed in consternation. He turned away from me, pushing his hands into his pockets, searching for his keys. Anxiety panged in my chest seeing Alex’s perturbed look on his face.

  Distracted, he put a hand on my shoulder. “It’ll be okay,” he said absently. The look of distress stamped on his face worried me.

  Alex put a limp arm around me, hugging me loosely. “I’ve got to go.” The jingle of the keys in his hand clanged as he walked to the door.

  The panic brewing inside me grew. “Where are you going?”

  Pushing the door open, he was already somewhere else. “I’ve got to take care of something.” He rushed out, not looking back at me.

  I crumbled to my knees, burying my face into my hands. What had I done? I’d driven my father away with my anger and my boyfriend with my neediness.

  Why did I keep making such enormous mistakes?

  I heard the door open. Looking up, I hoped it was Alex, but it was Joseph. He hurried over to me, helping me up. “Are you okay?”

  Sniffling, I said sadly, “No. I was stupid, Joseph.”

  Looking around, he asked, “Where’s Alex?”

  “He left. Just like Dad left.” I bit my lip, holding in another torrent of tears on the precipice.

  Joseph looped an arm around me. “Let’s get you inside. You need to drink some water and calm down.”

  I let Joseph steer me into the kitchen. He pushed me down onto a stool. Nia brought me a cold glass of water that I could only sip. She smoothed a hand on my forehead. “You look awful.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. I felt awful.

  She put her arm around me and hugged me. “I’m proud of you though.”

  Joseph nodded. “I’m proud of you, too.”

  “What? I’ve been an awful daughter. I said cruel things.”

  Joseph patted my knee. “Maybe, but you spoke your mind for the first time.”

  Nia laughed. “The look on your face!” She fanned herself with her hand. “I was scared.”

  I chuckled, but then quickly remembered my father running away from us. Looking up at my cousin and brother, my heart splintered. “Dad’s leaving us. He said we don’t need him anymore. He’s going to disappear like Mom did.”

  Nia put a hand on her chest in astonishment. “Uncle Jose said that?”

  Joseph looked down at the floor. When he looked up, he smiled at me sadly. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

  I grabbed his hand. “I didn’t mean to make Dad leave us.”

  He gently shook my hand from his. “I know, Jas.” I watched my little brother walk away, my sadness expanding minute by minute.

  Nia hugged me. “It’s going to be okay, Jasmine.”

  I didn’t know what to think. All the men in my life, my dad, my brother, and my boyfriend, were either upset or running away from me.

  How was it going to ever be okay?

  Alex

  When Jasmine told me Jose was leaving town, I seriously didn’t doubt it. Jose seemed like an unbreakable man, but men like that were always brittle on the inside. The rock exterior was a callus around a tender, vulnerable heart.

  When I was a little boy, I had a Corgi named, Memphis. All I had were two little sisters, so Memphis became my little brother. Memphis and I were inseparable. When he died unexpectedly, my little seven-year-old heart shattered. My parents let me mourn, but after a few months, we had a new Corgi, named Nash.

  I wouldn’t pet or play with Nash, announcing to my parents that I would never love another puppy again. I remember my parents exchanging looks with each other at the dinner table but not pressing the subject further.

  It was difficult to be around Nash because as a little kid, I wanted to play with him badly, but I wouldn’t let myself. What if something happened to Nash too? I couldn’t let myself fall into that trap again.

  Tucking me into bed that night, my father told me that if I had anot
her puppy, it didn’t mean I didn’t love Memphis anymore. He explained that when a heart breaks, it will eventually heal and be ready to love again.

  That night, I snuck out of bed. I scooped Nash up and brought him upstairs. Under my blanket with my flashlight, I played with my new puppy, allowing myself to feel the happiness I once had with Memphis. Soon, Nash and I became buddies just as close as Memphis and I were.

  When Nash died, I was a senior in high school. I was prepared for it since, by that time, Nash was fairly old. Nonetheless, my heart broke again, but I was glad I let Nash in. I was glad my dad told me it was okay to love again. Jose needed someone to tell him that.

  I was probably not the best person to talk to Jose about love and healing, but I loved Jasmine. If her father took off because of our relationship, Jasmine would be devastated. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.

  I left Jasmine at the restaurant in a hurry. There was no time to waste. Jose was a man who acted quickly and irrationally. After the last time I tried to talk to Jose, I decided storming up to the house mad as hell wasn’t going to work with the man. This time I was going to try a softer gentler approach.

  When I pulled up to the Fontaine’s driveway, I saw Jose’s Escalade still there. Relief flooded my veins, empowering me. There was still a chance I could talk him out of taking off.

  I walked up to the front door remembering the last time I’d been there. Telling myself to not make the same mistakes again, I knocked on the door. No one answered. I waited a few minutes, knocking again, but still, no one answered.

  Worry swelled in my chest. Why wasn’t he answering the door? I knocked again more insistently. What if Jose was inside, hurting himself? Backing up from the door, I braced my right shoulder for the impact.

  Suddenly, it dawned on me that there might be a better way. I checked the doorknob. It was unlocked. Relieved I didn’t have to break down the man’s door; I rushed inside. I passed through the front room, searching for him. The large family portrait that hung there was toppled over onto the floor. I stepped over the Fontaine’s faces gazing up at me from the floor, listening for any movement in the house.

  Above my head, the chandelier swayed. Then, I heard it. A booming grumble followed by a loud crash. I rushed up the stairs afraid of what I might see when I got there. I prayed Jose was okay.

  On the second floor, I followed the groans rumbling out of a room to the right. I sprinted inside. An oil painting of Jasmine’s mother was thrown to the floor. A tangle of jewelry, rings with large glittering stones, diamond and emerald necklaces, ruby encrusted bracelets, littered the floor. Women’s clothing and accessories: Louis Vuitton and Gucci handbags, fur coats, and gowns were scattered about. A suitcase packed haphazardly with men’s dress shirts, and slacks was open on top of the bed.

  I followed a scattered trail of Jimmy Choo shoes coming from a walk-in closet. Inside the expansive his and hers closet, Jose stood next to a hole in the wall clutching his right hand. The closet was ransacked. If clothes weren’t on the floor, they hung precariously from mangled hangers. Jose’s suits were crumpled and in various stages of disarray.

  Jose looked up with a pained face. The knuckles on his hand were purple and swollen. I said calmly to him, “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” Jose, stunned by the pain or by my sudden appearance said nothing, just nodding his head numbly.

  Running downstairs to the kitchen, with sadness, I thought of all women’s clothing and accessories that were strewn on the floor. Jose’s wife left more than a decade ago, not bothering to collect her jewels and designer clothing, and Jose never threw them out. He got dressed every morning next to the discarded things of a woman he still loved. I grimaced at this thought.

  Quickly, I found a Ziploc bag in a kitchen drawer and filled it with ice. From the window in the kitchen, I saw the oxen contentedly grazing, unaware of the Fontaine family’s brewing troubles. I sprinted upstairs two steps at a time. When I got back to the closet, Jose sat on an ash grey ottoman, his hurt hand, limp in his lap. He sat staring off into space, hardly moving.

  I handed him the ice bag and watched as he gingerly placed it on his swollen hand. He regarded me dolefully. “Thank you.”

  I didn’t wait, I just went for it, “Mr. Fontaine, you’re making a huge mistake.”

  He looked up at me; his eyes were vacant. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”

  I shrugged, looking at his suits dangling from their hangers. “We all have. I made a mistake coming in here last time demanding things from Jasmine and your family without bothering to have a proper discussion with you first.”

  Jose’s eyes trailed down to the floor. He kicked a box of Louboutin shoes. “It doesn’t matter anymore. My children have lost respect for me. They don’t need me.” He looked up sadly. “In the end, you got what you wanted.”

  Shaking my head, I wanted to plead with him, but Jose continued. “I loved their mother so much.” He chuckled bitterly. “I thought she was happy being my partner in life and our business.” His eyes narrowed in recollection. “But, she just fell out of love with me. Said this life wasn’t enough for her.” He sighed. “Our family was just not enough for her.”

  Jose looked so defeated. “I’m sorry, but this is not what I wanted. I had no intention of breaking your family up. I just want to be with Jasmine. I just want her to be happy. That’s been my goal this entire time.”

  He let out a solemn sigh. “Well, nothing would make Jasmine happier than if I disappeared from their lives. Both my children don't want anything to do with me."

  “That isn’t true. They do. They need you.”

  “They don’t need me.” He took the ice pack off his hand. Flexing and extending his fingers, he winced in pain. “I can’t do anything right!” He put the ice pack back on his hand.

  I held my arms up. “You built this beautiful home.” I pointed to the right. “And your legendary oxen.”

  Jose pointed the other way. “The oxen are to the East from where we are.”

  I corrected my direction. “Yes. East. That way.”

  “The oxen are so much easier to raise than my own children. You know the basic rules for raising livestock and letting them go when it’s time to. But, my own kids, I don’t know when it’s time to let them go. Are they ready? I don’t know. What are the signs?” He shrugged his shoulders.

  “I’m not a father, but I coach toddlers in soccer. I love those kids. When a kid is ready to move up to the next level, I’ve got to let him move up, right? He can’t be ten years old playing soccer tots. I miss the kids that have left me, but inevitably it’s for their benefit.” I paused, hoping Jose wasn’t thinking I was an idiot for comparing coaching to being a father. “I’m just a coach, but you’re their father. You can let go a little at a time and be there whenever they need you.”

  Jose stared down at the array of shoes scattered about the floor. “They aren’t kids anymore. Jasmine is 21 and Joseph is 19.”

  Shaking my head, I chuckled. “I’m 21 and still need my parents. I talk to my parents all the time. It’s important to me to always have my parents support in everything I do. Jasmine and Joseph both need you, especially since their mother isn’t here.”

  Jose’s face winced at the mention of their mother, but he said nothing.

  I stood, extending my hand to Jose. “They need you.”

  Looking me in the eye, man to man, Jose shook my hand with his unhurt left hand. “Thank you.” He still looked deflated, but the anger had drained from his face.

  “I hope to see you again,” I said with urging in my voice.

  Jose nodded noncommittally. His face was impassive like a stone. I couldn’t tell if I’d changed his mind or not.

  Climbing through a jumbled mixture of Jose and his wife’s clothes, I walked out of the bedroom. I softly closed the door, hoping Jose seriously considered everything I said, but doubting he would listen to a kid like me for parenting advice. I wasn’t even a parent.

  I drove straight ho
me from the Fontaine house. I couldn’t face Jasmine. She had never gotten over her mother’s absence. Her father was leaving town, and it was all my fault.

  Jasmine

  Tears kept flooding down my face despite my best efforts to keep it together. With a grief-stricken face, Joseph moved about the kitchen continuing to prepare food. I was sure inside he felt as hopeless as I did, but he pushed on with his work to feed the packed restaurant. At that moment, I wasn’t as strong as he was. I was slowly breaking apart inside.

  The restaurant staff worked around where I sat on a stool in the kitchen. Whereas not an hour before, every eye was on me, no one would look at me now. I retreated to the buey cave to avoid everyone’s uncomfortable regard and to stop seeing my brother’s distressed face as he worked.

  In the cave, I sat in a small chair in the back corner. In the dim light, the hanging buey cast shadows, stretching across the walls and floor. I hung back in the shadows wishing they would swallow me whole.

  I needed to strategize my next move. Without a doubt, I planned on dropping out of school and devoting all my time to the restaurant. Without my father, there was no conceivable way the restaurant could go on if I was in school. Plus, Joseph wasn’t going to be able to keep up his current rigorous schedule. He needed more rest. I would need to spend every waking minute in the restaurant.

  The only problem was the buey. My father raised the buey on his own. He thought of it as his sole responsibility. Joseph and I had little to do with the oxen on the farm. It wasn’t for lack of interest. My father always said for us not to worry about the oxen. It was his job.

  A sinking feeling rushed around me. The number one thing that made our restaurant rise above the rest was the buey. Without our father, how would we manage? I regretted all the years I hadn’t insisted to my father he teach us his husbandry methods.

  My mind scrambled for a solution. But nothing came to me.

  Suddenly, the door opened, and my father appeared in the doorway. I sprang to my feet, in relief. He walked forward to me with his arms open. “Jasmine, I’m so sorry.”