I had somewhat mixed emotions over the fact that his story of meeting and falling in love with Carla sounded almost cute and romantic. His gaze left my apartment and took him back twenty-five years to a time when a spark plug of a young woman laughed at his insights, challenged his politics and made him feel young.
He laughed remembering one of their dates. “One day we were on our way out to dinner after her music class and it was pouring rain,” he began. “We’re waiting forever for a cab like everyone else in the city. So along comes this Checker Cab and we’re thrilled because we’re soaking wet and starving and I’ve got to catch the 8:40 train back home, and this big burly guy runs right in front of us and grabs our cab. So I’m thinking, just let it go, there will be another cab. This guy looks pretty big and not like someone I want to mess around with. So then Carla gets right up in his face and starts in with, ‘What is it about you that makes you so important that you can have
my
cab?’ So the guy kind of laughs and goes for the door handle when Carla makes this insane face and grits her teeth. The she holds up her violin case and says to me, ‘Boss, this guy ain’t respecting you. Lemme open this baby up and show him why I’m called The Fiddler.’ ”
“Carla said this?” I asked.
“Not only did she say it, she had a perfect Godfather accent.”
“So what did you say?”
“I didn’t say a thing,” he recalled. “The guy couldn’t figure out if she was kidding or not so he just told us to take the cab. And he apologized.”
“Wow. Carla Gambino,” I laughed.
Father’s grin disappeared only when he returned to the present to explain to me that his marriage with my mother had been in trouble for many years before. “I never wanted to hurt your mother, but our marriage was very empty. She’ll be the first one to tell you that.”
“But you didn’t just leave Mom,” I told him, fighting not to let my voice flutter.
“Well,” Father said, looking down at his shoes. “Carla got pregnant and I had to make a choice. The original plan was that I would stay with your mother until you went to college, but then, well, I wanted to do the right thing by the baby.”
Each word was like someone blowing air into a balloon in my throat.
“It was a hard choice to make, Prudence. You’ve got to believe me when I tell you that. It was the toughest choice of my life.”
“But you chose the baby over me,” I said, fighting tears.
“No, I chose Carla over your mother. I didn’t think I’d have to choose between my children. I wanted you to be a part of my life, Prudence, but you would have nothing to do with me. I called constantly. Day after day, you got on the phone, said two words to me and hung up. Do you remember what those words were?”
Sperm Donor.
“Sperm donor. You called me a sperm donor,” he said.
Still do sometimes.
“Then you didn’t even call me that. You just refused to come to the phone. You wanted nothing to do with me.”
“You should have tried harder. I was only twelve, of course I wanted something to do with you, you were my father. I wanted you to win me back, to make it up to me, to convince me that you still loved me, but you just gave up and disappeared,” I said, immediately regretting the disclosure. I wished this were the sort of thing Father could’ve figured out on his own.
“You’re right, Prudence. I should have tried harder. Walking away for all those years is one of my greatest regrets in life. I am ashamed of how I behaved,” he said, his eyes welling with tears. “I can’t tell you how many nights….”
No, don’t cry. Please don’t cry, Father. Don’t look at him. Think about something else. The Juice Weasel is no ordinary juicer. Its high-speed blades help get the most possible juice out of every single vegetable, which means more nutritious vitamins for you and your family….
“… was unbearable, but I’ve changed and grown a lot over the years and I want to make it up to you now. Can’t you see how hard I’m trying now?” His confessions pulled me like an ocean current, stronger than me and impossible to fight. As much as I tried, I couldn’t keep myself on the shore.
“Yes, I see that you’re making an effort, but it’s very hard for me to trust you, Father. I can’t promise that I ever will. Do you know what it was like when I graduated from Michigan and everyone assumed Wally was my father? I didn’t correct anyone because how could I explain that you wanted to go on an Indian Princess camping trip more than watch me graduate from college?”
“I had no idea it was so important to you. I didn’t think you really wanted me there,” he said.
“Father, the only thing harder than sending you the invitation and admitting that I wanted you there was your telling me you were busy that weekend. You even made some offhand comment about the preteen years being really important for Ashley and you to bond. Do you have any idea how that made me feel? Every time I have opened the door to let you in, you’ve turned away. At least when I shut you out, the choice is mine.”
I’ve said too much already. Vilma told me never to undress on demand, and yet I am emotionally stark naked right now because Father decided he wanted to have a heart-to-heart. Change topics immediately. The weather. His travel plans. The Juice Weasel if we must.
“Anyway, so Paige got into Brown, huh? You and Carla must be proud.”
“I’d be a lot prouder if she stopped hanging around with hoodlums,” he said. “They all look dead to me with that black hair and those pale faces. She’s got a boyfriend who has a pierced tongue and eyebrow, and every time Paige buys a pair of pantyhose, she comes home and immediately starts ripping them to shreds before she’ll wear them.”
I love you, Paige!!!
“Lots of kids are into the gothic look these days, Father. It’s not a big deal. Listen, if she got into Brown, she’s obviously got her head screwed on straight. Give the kid a break about her clothes. Believe me, by the time she gets out of Brown, she’ll be into something new. She’ll probably head the campus Young Republicans by her sophomore year.”
“Then she’s really in for it,” Father said.
“So where is this music festival that you and Carla are going to in June?”
Not Italy, not Italy. Anywhere but Italy.
“Paris,” Father answered.
Merciful mother of God, I praise thee.
“Carla wants to spend the entire month touring France. Who knows where we’ll end up, though.” Father walked to the kitchen and poured himself another drink. “Another for you?” he offered.
“Thanks.”
“So where’s Reilly off to these days?” Father asked. I hadn’t thought about whether or not I was going to tell him about our separation. I decided I’d give him the bare minimum information. Just as much as he needed to know.
“Reilly doesn’t live here anymore,” I said.
He raised his eyebrows, surprised. “Really? Since when? Why did he leave?”
“Why do you assume he left?” I shot. “Maybe I kicked him out.”
“You kicked him out? What did he do?”
“I didn’t kick him out,” I said. “It was a mutual thing. We both decided it would be a good idea for him to move out.” Then for no reason, I simultaneously laughed and cried as I said, “Seeing how I’m getting married to someone else in a few months.”
“What?!” Father asked, handing me a tissue from his coat pocket. “What are you talking about, marrying someone else? Who else are you marrying?”
“His name is Matt,” I wiped my eyes. “Matt Reynolds,” I sobbed. “He’s wonderful.”
“I can tell,” Father joked awkwardly. He sat next to me and put his arm around my back. “Honey, what’s going on?”
I left out few details in updating Father on my separation from Reilly and engagement to Matt. Of course, underwear tearing and outdoor sexual escapades were things no father wants to hear about, so I replaced them with museum trips and intense discussions about the art of film. I braced myself for a well-deserved observation that I was perhaps even a worse offender than Father. “At least I never told Carla that your mother was dead!” I imagined him saying.
“It’s a crazy mixed-up thing you get into with affairs, isn’t it?” he said instead. “One minute you’re feeling so lucky because you’re so goddamn happy, then you realize that your happiness is at someone else’s expense.”
I placed my glass down hard on the table. “I know!” I said, the drink increasing my volume a bit. “It would be so much easier if Reilly was a complete jerk, but he’s
such
a nice guy.”
Father smiled knowingly. “Did you sometimes try to pick fights with him to convince yourself you had a rocky marriage?”
“Oh my God, yes! It was like it wasn’t enough for me to be unhappy, I had to make him the one responsible for making me that way. And every time he failed to be an asshole, I got so mad at him and completely lashed out about nothing.”
“Your mother and I were on our way out one night and I started in on her about nothing. The woman had done nothing wrong.”
“Except for not being Carla,” I interrupted.
“You got it,” he resumed somewhat solemnly. “Your mother was so reasonable. She kept trying to resolve whatever ridiculous issue I’d brought up as such a huge problem, and the poor thing had no idea that the only real issue between us was my cheating on her and feeling guilty about it. She was trying to solve a problem that had nothing to do with what the problem really was.”
“Let me guess,” I laughed. “This all made you feel like an even bigger jerk, so then you got nasty?”
“Did she tell you that?” Father asked.
I shook my head. “I just did the same thing to Reilly.”
“I don’t know why that is,” he said softly. “You’d think at that point, I’d have some awareness of what I was doing and give the poor woman a break. But instead, her patience made me so angry I could have stormed out of the house.”
“Which is, of course, what you really wanted to do anyway,” I added.
Father sighed. “I put your mother through a lot with that whole ordeal. If I could do things over again…” he tapered off. “Then there was you,” he said.
“You were mad at me too?” I fluttered.
“No, no, of course I wasn’t angry at you,” he assured me, patting my head awkwardly. It was the first time we’d sat this close for more than a few seconds in a very long time. Father didn’t know what to do with himself. Touch me? Keep his hands on his lap? I decided to let him figure it out on his own. It wasn’t as though I had any answers either. “I was never angry with you, Prudence, but it was so hard seeing you every day when you had no idea what a creep I was being. You know, we were buddies back then. You thought I was a pretty cool guy.”
“You were,” I said.
“Yeah, except for the fact that I was running around with an intern in the city and telling your mother I was working late when I was actually, well, you know. I never missed any of your events, though, Prudence. I was always proud of myself for making sure I was always home for those.”
When I laughed, he assumed it was bitterly, but I was actually remembering the time he showed up late for our Sunday school Christmas show. Just as one of the four-foot wise men proclaimed, “The Messiah has arrived!” the church door burst open, letting in the brightest rectangle of light I’d ever seen. I immediately recognized the silhouette as Father’s as he walked down the center aisle of the church while the entire audience burst into laughter. He soon realized two hundred parents and all the kids on stage were laughing at him, though he had no idea why. He stopped and took a bow, which made the audience laugh even harder. Four hundred-year-old Miss Clies stood up and shushed everyone. “Mr. Malone, I will thank you to sit down promptly and cease your disruptive behavior!” I cannot tell you what a status symbol it was among the ten-year-old set to have a dad who got scolded by the Catechism teacher. “You certainly know how to make an entrance,” Mom smiled as she leaned in to kiss him.
“Your dad is cool,” said a prepubescent Willie Fitzgerald. The Father who showed up was always charming and charismatic, which made his absence so much starker to me.
The Father in my SoHo loft apologized. “I know, as soon as I started saying that, I realized how ridiculous a statement that was. I know I missed three years of your life. A thousand bedtimes,” he said.
Plus another ninety-five
, I did not say.
I was silent for a moment as I savored his words. It was the first time he actually said them instead of simply defending himself. Desperate for more, I pressed. “Did you? I mean, did you miss them? I know I missed those years, but I never thought you did.”
“Well I did, Prudence,” he said cupping his hands over mine. “And I’ll regret it forever.”
“So what the hell are we going to do today anyway?” I said, noticing it was dusk already.
“I don’t know, but it better involve walking, ’cause I am not getting into my car right now.”
“Father, I thought you could hold your liquor,” I teased.
“Hold my liquor, nothing. I got a parking spot just four blocks from here. I’m not moving.”
We never left the loft that evening. Father and I returned to lighter subjects like the NASDAQ and which of our friends got in on killer IPOs. Hours passed by with idle chatter that never scratched beneath the surface we had uncovered earlier.
When Lin delivered our Chinese food, he looked at me with disgust, as though I were running a one-woman brothel. “Do you two know each other?” Father asked.
“He sort of bonded with Matt,” I told him.
“Who?”
“Matt, Matt. Your future son-in-law, Matt.”
“Ah yes, Matt,” he recalled. “So tell me about him. He’s got to be a pretty special guy. What’s he like?”
“Absolutely charming,” I smiled. “He just, God, he just fills me up, you know?”
I knew Father’s smile was half for me finding real happiness with Matt. But it was clear that the other half was for him making his way into my home that day. Normally I’d want to snatch this from him like a toddler unwilling to share a favorite toy. This day I felt that just maybe his victory could possibly be mine too.
“Prudence, I’m glad we had the day together,” Father said as he got up to put his coat on.