Anonymous asked: Talk to me of loyalty some time. Is it a virtue, or is it a fantasy?
Have I told you the story about my father and his girl? Surely I have.
My mother divorced my father when I was 12, because she was offered a job in Florida. He wouldn’t leave New England, so. Now, to be fair, she was a woman trying to have a career in the early 80’s, and maybe getting offered a management job like that was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Or maybe it was a situation where she had to discover something about herself in Florida before she could settle into a marriage that would actually last. Or maybe it was something else. Every unhappy marriage is unhappy in its own way.
Though they split, my father called me once a month, to check in. But then Mom instantly hated Florida (a “cultural wasteland,” “hideous swamp”) so we moved back to New England a couple years later, bought a house, I started another high school, etc. They stayed divorced, but my father continued to call and now sometimes we’d go out for a burger and a violent action movie, which was excellent.
One day, I’m 17, they’ve been divorced for 5 years. My father tells me he has a girlfriend. Wants to know if I want to meet her. YES, I say, big eyes. Then Mom gets wind and is all HELL NO and my father’s like, oh sorry sorry and I’m all: HE’S A FREE MAN, MOM! FREE OF YOUR TYRANNY! Little teen fists, red face. Anyway, the drama was your typical family fare. My father, clumsy apologetic. My mother, horrified that I was so interested in the girlfriend, not telling my father he’s a bad man. My sister calls from New York to tell me I’m being disloyal to Mom. I point out that I’m being loyal to my father.
Stalemate.
So then my father calls me before my high school graduation to RSVP the big party, and he instructs me to tell Mom he’s bringing the girl. YES, I say, big eyes. I go to Mom, trembling with moral righteousness. The adrenalin, you guys. The rage. All the hate a lonely, angry teen can muster and finally this beautiful reason to let it loose.
I tell her: my father is bringing his girl to my party and you’re just going to have to deal with it! She inhales like a cat, puts down her Virginia Slim, says: absolutely not is he bringing that bimbo to my party. But for once I’m right on up in her face and I hiss. I kid you not, I coil and hiss out: If you do anything to prevent him or anyone he wants to bring from being at my party, you will find yourself in front of all your family and friends throwing a graduation party with no graduate.
So anyway, we storm off to our separate wings of the house and don’t speak for the weeks before the party. Day of, I’m there, being dutifully charming. She’s serving punch on the lawn. My father’s car pulls up and we both turn like it’s a horror movie. The anticipation is so thick. He gets out. OMG OMG. He goes around to the back of the car. He… opens the trunk? He takes out… a barbecue grill. I hear my mother laugh with relief.
THE END.
