{"id":16640,"date":"2021-05-19T05:00:24","date_gmt":"2021-05-19T09:00:24","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/bullmensfiction.com\/?p=16640"},"modified":"2022-08-03T13:12:05","modified_gmt":"2022-08-03T17:12:05","slug":"real-men-dont-hit-their-wives","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/fiction\/real-men-dont-hit-their-wives\/","title":{"rendered":"Real Men Don’t Hit Their Wives"},"content":{"rendered":"

The most perfect type of masculine beauty is Satan, as rendered by Milton.<\/em>
\n\u00a0 \u00a0– Charles Baudelaire, Fus\u00e9es XVI (1866)<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

The buildup of atherosclerotic plaque in everyone\u2019s body begins at birth, and after that, the rest of life is just waiting to die. Of this circumstance, there is no dispute, no negotiation\u2014it is only what you do between your first breath and last that you can control, and even then, your will is hardly free. Lewis Arnold thinks of this, and of the endarterectomy he performed that morning on a man not far from his own age, as he sits straight-spined and restless at a round table in the crush of the crowded dining room in Hawton\u2019s Chophouse. He would\u2019ve preferred a better spot in the restaurant to celebrate his daughter\u2019s engagement\u2014a quiet booth in the corner\u2014but this was the best he could do on short notice. To his right, Joseph taptaptaps with his thumbs, and to his left, Audrey slathers butter on a roll. You can tell a lot about a person by the way they eat dinner, or so his father said. But what did he know?<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you think it means? The way you slam my door every time you come in here,\u201d Dr. Turner said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t slam your door.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you can\u2019t even see the obvious, Lewis, I\u2019m not sure I\u2019ll be able to work with you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat a tragedy that would be.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Across the table, Kimberly is holding hands with Benjamin Schlott, a Jewish man with good posture and nice table manners who Lewis has never met and who will apparently be his son-in-law in six months. A teacher, or something, from Dallas.<\/p>\n

They catch eyes and Lewis tries to smile pleasantly, ignore the pulsing in his temple. But it keeps getting worse, now shooting down his cheekbone into his jaw, locking up the muscle so even a small smile feels like he\u2019s grinding his teeth.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou understand why I\u2019m still charging you for the two weeks you missed?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI understand you\u2019re trying to screw me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou have to want to do this. I need to know you value these sessions. That this matters.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you telling me I have a choice?\u201d<\/p>\n

Silence.<\/p>\n

\u201cSay something, you prick.\u201d<\/p>\n

Silence.<\/p>\n

\u201cI was in New York. It couldn\u2019t be helped. Unlike your other wacko patients, I have a life.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s resistance with all new patients, Lewis. You\u2019re not so special. But don\u2019t ever call me a prick again.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Lewis relishes, slightly and mischievously, the young couple\u2019s na\u00efve discourse about bridesmaids and flower centerpieces, as if it all means something. They are blissfully unaware of the inevitable mutual loathing that plagues all marriages. She\u2019s your problem now, Benny-boy. Enjoy paying for Amazon deliveries the rest of your life.<\/p>\n

The waiter arrives at the table, and Lewis rubs his freshly-shaven chin with anticipation. If there is one thing that still makes him happy, besides reading Milton before bed or seeing the look on the face of a patient\u2019s family member\u2014the utter, profound relief and gratitude\u2014after a successful procedure, it is a bloody piece of meat paired with a dry, bold red wine. A pugnacious cab, Elizabeth might say. That, or going to a Cubs day game by himself.<\/p>\n

\u201cTap water or sparkling?\u201d the waiter asks, in the general direction of the group but to nobody in particular.<\/p>\n

\u201cPellegrino,\u201d Lewis says.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd what about for the rest of us?\u201d Audrey says. Scourge of God. Four decades of hell. She\u2019s wearing a red turtleneck underneath a black blazer. He hasn\u2019t loved her well, he knows, in the past. But he\u2019s trying to love her now.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can get whatever you want,\u201d he says. They haven\u2019t had sex in four years. He wonders if his penis would even do anything if she touched it.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m fine with sparkling water too,\u201d Joseph says.<\/p>\n

\u201cSince when did you start drinking seltzer?\u201d she says.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

Typical Joseph: ordering Pellegrino though he prefers still water, just to be an ass. A restive young man, prone to making impulsive bad decisions, like spending thousands on a trip to South Asia and coming back improved in no discernable way intellectually, though possibly diseased venereally.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I\u2019d like tap water,\u201d Audrey says, like she\u2019s some kind of martyr for civil rights.<\/p>\n

\u201cLast year Joseph bought me a book for my birthday. It\u2019s called 600 Places To See Before You Die.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIs he always so morbid?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRight? You flip it open randomly and it\u2019s some exotic location no one\u2019s ever heard of. A voodoo festival in Haiti, or a pristine bay in Vietnam. Or something more famous, like the terra-cotta soldier statues in China. Or Victoria Falls. Did you know they\u2019re bigger than Niagara?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI did.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course you did.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you wish you could travel to these places.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lewis laughed. \u201cIt\u2019s not going to happen. Who would I go with? I\u2019m certainly not going with Audrey. I haven\u2019t had a real conversation with her in twenty years. I suppose I could go with Elizabeth. But even her, not really.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho is this Elizabeth?\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t mind tap water,\u201d his daughter says.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, tap water\u2019s fine,\u201d Audrey says.<\/p>\n

Back during his presidency, Audrey had confessed doubts about the authenticity of Obama\u2019s birth certificate. You\u2019re a traitor to Chicago, Lewis had said. Though he could hardly claim nostalgia for a city that was barely recognizable; his old neighborhood had long ago become a nonstop gang turf war.<\/p>\n

And a goddamn moron.<\/p>\n

Yes, he\u2019d said it. And he\u2019d apologized, profusely, but they both knew he meant it. Decades of arguments coalesced into one bullet. Whatever you say, Doctor, she said. Then didn\u2019t speak to him for a month.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t care,\u201d Joseph says, tapping his fork against his salad plate.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnother lovely weekend in New York?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t judge me, Neil. When was the last time you tasted expensive scotch with a beautiful woman and talked about French poetry?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTwelve years sober.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy are you always so goddamn serious all the time, Neil?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you take your job seriously?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not quite the same thing. I\u2019m out there saving lives every day.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t consider therapy saving lives?\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Lewis raises his eyebrows at Benjamin, who looks as if he wishes he could turn himself into a pillar of salt. \u201cBenny, my boy? Care to break the tie?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnything\u2019s fine with me,\u201d he mumbles.<\/p>\n

Lewis looks up at the waiter, and looks back at Benjamin, then back again at the waiter, imploring him silently to empathize with the absurdity of the situation, as if saying, See? See what I have to deal with? But the waiter stands in place, looking bored, perhaps tracing the pattern of red and gold diamonds on the carpet.<\/p>\n

\u201cSparkling,\u201d Lewis says finally.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, one bottle of Pellegrino, and tap waters for the rest of you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYea, sure,\u201d Joseph says, but the waiter is already gone.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy does it have to be so goddamn difficult just to order water?\u201d Lewis says, but Audrey\u2019s face is nose-deep in her menu.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, are you considering divorce? Legal separation?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s never been on the table.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s she gonna do? What would I do?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you want to get better, Lewis?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you think?\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

The last night Joseph spent in the house in Highland Park was blistering cold. Lewis remembers the date because Joseph stayed at a friend\u2019s house the rest of his senior year, and there was nothing Lewis could do about it. Upon coming home that night, after bumper to bumper traffic on icy roads, Lewis had been assaulted by earsplitting noise bleeding through the door of Joseph\u2019s room. He made it ten minutes into dinner with the bass and kick drum pounding the ceiling of the dining room, where he and Audrey were trying to eat like civilized people, and then he couldn\u2019t it take any more. He stood up and threw his napkin onto his plate.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s okay,\u201d Audrey had said, staring down at her food.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not okay,\u201d Lewis said. He stomped around Audrey\u2019s chair to the stairs. \u201cWhy can\u2019t you take care of this?\u201d<\/p>\n

He pounded his fist on Joseph\u2019s door, which was covered in stickers of bands with idiotic names, and wished he didn\u2019t have to be such a monster.<\/p>\n

\u201cShut that goddamn music off!\u201d Lewis screamed, pummeling the door.<\/p>\n

Nothing happened. The door was locked. Lewis stood back a few feet, then smashed his foot into the doorknob, shattering the jamb as the door flung open.<\/p>\n

Joseph scrambled up from his desk, where he was doing homework or something, and backed up against the wall. Lewis barged in and screamed at his son, their faces inches apart.<\/p>\n

\u201cYOU SHUT IT OFF! YOU SHUT OFF THAT MUSIC!\u201d<\/p>\n

Joseph scurried around Lewis and powered off the stereo, the one they\u2019d gotten him for Christmas a couple of years earlier. He hated to see the fear on his son\u2019s face.<\/p>\n

Lewis trudged back downstairs, enervated and disheartened, took his seat at the table, and stabbed a piece of fried pork chop with his knife. He shoved the mound into his mouth.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is cold already,\u201d Lewis said. He could barely swallow, from the knot in his throat.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you want me to heat it up?\u201d Audrey asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s fine.\u201d He wanted Joseph to know how easy he had it. That if Lewis were his father, Joseph wouldn\u2019t be able to walk tomorrow. But it was the terror. The weakness. It made Lewis ashamed of his son, and he hated him for it. He wondered if he\u2019d be propping up Joseph his whole life, that the boy would never succeed. Like Lewis had, poor to rich, hard work, the American Dream.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know Audrey wishes we had grandkids by now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you upset that you don\u2019t?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you even listening to me? I said Audrey. Not me, Neil. Aren\u2019t I paying you to listen?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re paying me to help you out of this mess.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAudrey, she wants Kimmy and this\u2026 Benjamin guy to get married already and start popping out kids. We haven\u2019t even met him. And she wants it yesterday. The thing is, it\u2019s only for a lack of anything better to do.\u201d<\/p>\n

Silence.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe have a cat.\u201d<\/p>\n

Silence.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou with me today, Neil? You all there?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m here to listen, isn\u2019t that what you said?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAudrey loves that goddamn cat. It\u2019s okay. Sits around all day. Just like Audrey. Neither of them do anything. They watch Fox News and soap operas. And she plays on her little computer.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDoes that bother you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat bothers me is that she doesn\u2019t say anything interesting. Never talks about art, or poetry, or literature. Even politics, she regurgitates the asinine talking points that she doesn\u2019t understand, like complaining about immigration. Her mother was born in Ireland, but she seems to be conveniently unaware of this fact.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you want grandchildren?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCome on, I\u2019m not old enough to be a grandfather. Are you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou seem to be quite good at lying to yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou got grandkids?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDoes it matter?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI think it does.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI have two young grandsons. They\u2019re both little shits.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cExactly!\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

After an excruciating silence, a busboy comes by with glasses of water. The waiter returns with the sommelier, and Lewis points out a ninety-dollar bottle of cabernet sauvignon, when the phone Audrey doesn\u2019t know about buzzes against his leg. He lets it go to voicemail. There will be plenty of time to talk with Elizabeth later tonight.<\/p>\n

Lewis lets Kimberly order first, and they circle the table. Benjamin orders a lobster bisque and shrimp arrabbiata.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot kosher?\u201d Lewis asks Benjamin.<\/p>\n

Plus, Elizabeth isn\u2019t supposed to call. He told her they\u2019d video chat after Audrey ambiened herself to sleep.<\/p>\n

\u201cDad!\u201d Kimberly says.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth directs the Lower Manhattan Cultural Council. They met a year ago at a five-hundred-dollar-a-plate fundraiser sponsored by his hospital, and spent the evening drinking wine and discussing half the country\u2019s hypocritical and outrageous ratiocination of and slavish devotion to, \u201cthat imbecile in the White House,\u201d as she\u2019d called him.<\/p>\n

She\u2019d spent her twenties in Europe, mostly Rome and Athens. She\u2019d been to the original Tree of Hippocrates on Kos, she told him, and then explained what that was. He told her she was fortunate, despite the heartbreak of her divorce (a \u201cbeautiful\u201d and \u201cdastardly\u201d Spaniard named Alessio, apparently) that she never had children, though she disagreed. On the plane back to O\u2019Hare he recognized a feeling he hadn\u2019t had in decades. He was smitten. He was charmed. He couldn\u2019t stop thinking about her, the sharp lines around the corners of her mouth when she smiled, or how she used words like dastardly, and ratiocination.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d Lewis says, trying to sound innocent.<\/p>\n

Thirty-five years of frustration with Audrey, finally starting to turn around. Yet still he daydreams about a life in New York with Elizabeth, strolling around Central Park, watching operas at The Met, summering at her cottage in the Hamptons.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course he\u2019s not kosher,\u201d Kimberley says.<\/p>\n

Elizabeth is Jewish in the way all New Yorkers are Jewish, even the Christians. Apparently, the same way as Benny-boy.<\/p>\n

\u201cFine, he\u2019s not kosher,\u201d Lewis says. The waiter is awaiting his order, ignoring the argument, like a pro. \u201cI\u2019ll take the twenty-two-ounce bone-in ribeye. Rare. Creamed spinach and potatoes au gratin.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLewis,\u201d Audrey whispers. \u201cYour blood pressure.\u201d<\/p>\n

The rage comes immediately. \u201cI can order my own meal,\u201d he whispers back. \u201cI\u2019m not a child.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo then don\u2019t be,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n

He rolls his eyes, then takes a deep breath. \u201cFine. Petite filet and a garden salad.\u201d<\/p>\n

He wants to chuck the menu at the waiter. But it\u2019s not that guy\u2019s fault.<\/p>\n

\u201cHappy?\u201d he says.<\/p>\n

Audrey looks satisfied, the cat that ate the canary. He reminds himself she nags because she cares. It\u2019s infuriating.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not a degenerate gambler. I never beat my kids. I\u2019m not a drunk. Sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not what this is about. This is about stress. Hypertension. Your doctor is concerned about you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI was a stockboy at Marshall Field\u2019s when I was in high school. You think I didn\u2019t want to play football with my friends? Take a girl out to the movies? I did. But I got a job instead. Then. Then, I went to med school. I barely got to see Audrey when we were first married. She was so beautiful, back then. Thin, with long curly brown hair, always smiling and laughing. She\u2019s still beautiful, of course. But I rarely see her smile. Fuck. I practically didn\u2019t even see my kids grow up. I sacrificed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you regret it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRegret what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s just a question, Lewis.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI used to look at my shitty wife and the two pieces of shit we created and think, how the fuck did I go so wrong? But now I know that was just the anger. Thank you very much. That was the rage that killed my father. A man does what a man has to do. And you can let it kill you or you can let it make you stronger. So no, I don\u2019t regret it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA man does do what a man has to do. But not beating the shit out of your kids? Does that make you a man?\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

\u201cSo, Ben-Who-Isn\u2019t-Kosher, what do you do for a living?\u201d<\/p>\n

Elizabeth says it\u2019s possible, that anything is possible, if you really want it, but deep in the lacuna between fantasy and reality, Lewis knows it will never happen. Not everything is possible. Life doesn\u2019t work that way.<\/p>\n

\u201cI told you what he does,\u201d Kimberly says.<\/p>\n

For their six-month \u201canniversary,\u201d Lewis had a leather-bound French edition of Baudelaire\u2019s Les Fleur Du Mal sent to Elizabeth\u2019s apartment, though her bookshelf was already crammed with museum literature, critical philosophy, years of The New Yorker. In return she\u2019d bought him a vintage sterling silver ballpoint pen with the Rod of Asclepius on it. He wished he could bring it home to Chicago with him.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet him answer,\u201d Lewis says.<\/p>\n

What Lewis admires about Elizabeth is that she cares deeply, and sincerely, about art. She majored in Ancient Art History at Dartmouth. She keeps a spectacular wine fridge (the three times he\u2019d seen it). Audrey, on the other hand, drinks Sunset Blush from a box and decorated their house with facsimile paintings from catalogues.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m a middle-grade guidance counselor,\u201d Benjamin says.<\/p>\n

Lewis imagines Dr. Turner, with his smug goatee and silly wool sweaters, the back issues of Psychology Today and Prevention strewn across a cheap coffee table and the quiet, stale air of his Streeterville office lobby.<\/p>\n

\u201cRight, right, of course,\u201d Lewis says. \u201cAnd what, exactly, do you have to guide a twelve-year-old about? Which finger to use to pick his nose?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, you\u2019d be surprised,\u201d Benjamin replies. \u201cEverything you think is complicated in your life now, well, it\u2019s a microcosm in seventh grade.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lewis snorts. \u201cDoubtful.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI commuted an hour each way, every day, for thirty years, to give them a big house in Highland Park. Kimberly needed her own bathroom. She needed a phone. She needed one. My son needed a PlayStation, an Xbox. They got a pool. A basketball hoop on the driveway. Swimming lessons. Violin lessons. They rode horses. They had math tutors and SAT tutors. Every advantage, they had. And I gave it to them. And my son, you know what he did?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did John do?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJoseph, Neil. His name is fucking Joseph.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJoseph.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJoseph got himself expelled from DePaul for selling drugs.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Through the dim interior of the restaurant, Lewis watches the curvaceous silhouette of a woman shaking out of her coat, bathed in a pool of light from the streetlamps outside, and he imagines this bodily corona could be hot enough to melt the brass banister of the bar. Her form is fuzzy, in fact, like she is actually surrounded by some kind of energy aura.<\/p>\n

Ah, to be young, and beautiful. Is Elizabeth\u2019s proposal really possible? To just, leave? It seems so unlikely that a man, at the age of sixty, almost elderly\u2014how that word horrifies him\u2014can simply start his life over again. Hell, they\u2019ve never even kissed.<\/p>\n

Kimberly prattles on about the venue, listing the pros and cons of a DJ versus a full band, naming the shortlist of those definitely in the wedding party and those who would, unfortunately, not be invited at all.<\/p>\n

Joseph excuses himself to go to the restroom. Lewis realizes he also kind of has to go, but as he stands up he feels a little dizzy, so he sits down quickly.<\/p>\n

Audrey looks at him, puzzled.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat is it about you, Neil? Why is it that I can\u2019t even look you in the face?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPeople often despise in other people what they see in themselves.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd what do I see when I look at you, besides somebody who thinks they know everything?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou see a man who is aging.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

\u201cSo, are you getting married in a church?\u201d Lewis asks, though he\u2019s pretty sure they won\u2019t.<\/p>\n

Kimberly looks at her fianc\u00e9. \u201cNuh-uh.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTemple?\u201d Lewis feels a pain shoot up his left leg, and he shifts his weight.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re thinking of doing the ceremony outside,\u201d Benjamin says, \u201con the venue\u2019s lawn.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019ll be so nice,\u201d Audrey says. \u201cThe weather should be beautiful.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRabbi?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe found a non-denominational officiator.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut you\u2019re going to break the glass, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d Benjamin says, \u201cI thought I might.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFine with me,\u201d Lewis says. And it is. Go ahead, break the glass. Lewis knows he must choose his battles, and falling on his sword for this one will mean losing another, more important one, like getting his grandchild baptized. The Jews may not believe in hell, and Lewis has his doubts about God and the Devil, but some traditions you don\u2019t break. Saving the innocent\u2019s immortal soul, for one.<\/p>\n

Just in case.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo\u2026\u201d Kimberly says, and stops. \u201cWe wanted to talk about\u2026um\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Audrey puts her hand on Lewis\u2019s knee, and he grasps it with his own. He knows what\u2019s coming, and he\u2019s genuinely interested in how they will phrase it. Will Benjamin be man enough to come right out and ask?<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re, like, doing all this planning\u2026\u201d Kimberly continues, trailing off. She looks at Benjamin for support. Codependency, Lewis thinks. He\u2019s learned a thing or two from Dr. Turner this past year. He\u2019ll have to talk to her about that at some point down the line. It\u2019s not healthy.<\/p>\n

Audrey looks as if she might say something but Lewis squeezes her hand, hard. He realizes he wants this uncomfortable moment to last as long as possible.<\/p>\n

Benjamin clears his throat. \u201cSo the thing is,\u201d he says, \u201cwe have some money saved.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s prudent,\u201d Lewis says.<\/p>\n

\u201cRight, sure. Very prudent. But the thing is, we want to buy a house.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow nice,\u201d Lewis says. \u201cWhite picket fence. Two point two children.\u201d<\/p>\n

Benjamin looks at Kimberly. \u201cSure\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere\u2026are you looking to buy?\u201d Audrey says, a hint of trepidation in her voice. Lewis knows that Audrey wants nothing more than for Kimberly (and Benjamin, now) to move back to Chicago. He hates to admit that he actually agrees with her on that point. They should come home to start a family.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSpit it out, son,\u201d Lewis says.<\/p>\n

Benjamin finally breaks his gaze from Kimberly and meets Audrey\u2019s eyes. \u201cIn Dallas.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lewis can sense that those two words, \u201cin Dallas,\u201d have broken Audrey\u2019s heart more than anything he could possibly confess about Elizabeth. She might even be relieved if he found another woman. But to be a thousand miles away from her daughter and her grandchildren, that would be too much. Maybe she\u2019ll want to move to Dallas, now, too.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course,\u201d Audrey says softly, and Lewis squeezes her hand again, gently this time, because it is the best he can do, under the circumstances, and because it pains him greatly to see her upset.<\/p>\n

\u201cI look at him and I wonder, Is this my son? Or does he really belong to that asshole? I tried to teach him. The little fork for the salad, the big one for the entr\u00e9e. But he has no idea. When I was a kid if I used the wrong soup spoon, my father would lean across the table and punch me in the arm. If I ate too slowly, he\u2019d smack me in the back of the head and tell me to hurry up. If I ate too fast he\u2019d punch me in the gut so I\u2019d vomit. He always said that you could tell a lot about a man by the way he ate dinner. Like it was some mantra, or some wisdom. But it doesn\u2019t mean anything.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWas your father always so violent?\u201d Dr. Turner said.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, come on now, I\u2019m not saying he was violent. He wasn\u2019t violent. He didn\u2019t drink. No drugs. He grew up in some hard times, the likes of which people like you and I have never even seen. Those people, it was different. He would unplug the clock when he left the apartment. Sometimes you need, you know, a steam vent. And the valves were me and my mother.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow long did this trauma go on?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUntil he died. A massive stroke, bam! Rest in peace.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow did it make you feel?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow did it make me feel? I remember this one time, when I was oh, about seven, when he grabbed my mother by her shoulders and shook so hard her glasses fell off. How does it make me feel. What kind of stupid question is that?\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

He had considered divorcing Audrey, once, many moons ago. She\u2019d had an affair with a lawyer, back when she was a legal secretary. Things were never the same after that. Not after Lewis discovered them\u2014accidentally, of course\u2014when he\u2019d shown up at their office with flowers, some kind of apology for a fight he could no longer remember. It was eight months before Joseph was born, in fact. So it all could\u2019ve been true. They were fucking on the desk, like in a goddamn movie. Audrey hadn\u2019t known she was pregnant yet. And the worst part, the very worst part, was that, in the moment right before she\u2019d realized Lewis was in the room, Audrey had looked so goddamn happy.<\/p>\n

But he\u2019d had the paternity test, and Lewis was indeed Joseph\u2019s father. And if they didn\u2019t get divorced then, they certainly wouldn\u2019t now.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo,\u201d Benjamin is saying, \u201cthe price tag has sort of ballooned\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean, sort of?\u201d Lewis says. The pain in his jaw has intensified, a full-on migraine.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf we hire the wedding planner, the band, the venue, the flowers\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy do you need a wedding planner?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDad!\u201d Kimberley says.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, it\u2019s kind of, sort of like, required by the venue, nowadays, and then there\u2019s the food, which, by all estimations, because we want there to be a lot of people, not just my family, which is kind of small, but your family, all the folks in Chicago, and then you\u2019ve got family in St. Louis, and Orlando\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGet to the point, Ben.\u201d Lewis hasn\u2019t spoken to either of his brothers in St. Louis since their mother died.<\/p>\n

\u201cDad!\u201d Kimberly says.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Benjamin says, \u201che\u2019s right. Look. We both work very hard.\u201d<\/p>\n

Benjamin stops talking, as if his point is made.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe all do, Ben,\u201d Lewis says.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, yes, of course. Everyone does. But we are having trouble with, it seems like we might not be able to afford the wedding that she\u2014I mean, that we\u2014want.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo we\u2019d like to ask for your help.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI see,\u201d Lewis says. \u201cAnd your parents, Ben, will they help as well?\u201d He can afford to pay for the wedding himself, he\u2019s pretty sure, but fair is fair.<\/p>\n

Benjamin looks back and forth between Kimberly and Lewis, then inhales. \u201cMy parents aren\u2019t really,\u201d he says. \u201cThey\u2019re not quite in the position to, I mean, they\u2019re going to help out must as they can, of course. But I\u2019m not sure they can offer much.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAh,\u201d Lewis says. \u201cI\u2019m sorry to hear it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Kimberly must know that he and Audrey will pay for their wedding, whatever the cost, fair or not. He hasn\u2019t let her down thus far in her life; he\u2019s not going to start now. A Volkswagen Jetta on her sixteenth birthday (though she scoffed that it was pre-owned). Five years at Tulane and two semesters in Europe (which she predominantly spent drinking and dancing in nightclubs). Every new iMac and iPod and iPad and iWhatever MacDevice as soon as it came out, designer purses, an endless supply of makeup. Audrey still sends her a check every month for walking-around money.<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry about what, exactly?\u201d Benjamin says.<\/p>\n

\u201cPardon?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh,\u201d Benjamin says, a little louder, his face reddening. \u201cYou said you were sorry to hear it. I was asking what, exactly, you\u2019re sorry about.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s just an expression,\u201d Lewis says. So, Benny-boy can get a little testy. He\u2019s got some stones. Good. \u201cCalm down.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m calm,\u201d Benjamin says.<\/p>\n

\u201cI was a family man.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow so?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow so? That\u2019s all you guys ever do.\u201d<\/p>\n

Silence.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t roll your eyes at me, Neil.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you really so sensitive?\u201d<\/p>\n

For the first time, Lewis was speechless.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow. What does the term \u2018family man\u2019 mean to you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSomeone who dedicated his life to his family,\u201d Lewis said. \u201cWasn\u2019t selfish. Put them first. A real man. You did what you had to, and you didn\u2019t complain about it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, why the past tense just now?\u201d<\/p>\n

Lewis couldn\u2019t help himself from smiling.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

The tension is scarcely ameliorated when Joseph sits back down at the table. \u201cWhat did I miss?\u201d he says, into the silence.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh nuts-n-honey,\u201d Audrey says. \u201cWe were talking about where Kimberly should take Benjamin. Architectural tour on the river, Hancock Building, Sears Tower, or both?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s called the Willis Tower now, Ma. It\u2019s been like ten years.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe were talking about how expensive their wedding is going to be,\u201d Lewis says. He can\u2019t fathom why she still feels the need to protect their son from conflict.<\/p>\n

\u201cUm, okay. So should I leave?\u201d Joseph says, almost as if he wants to.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course not,\u201d Lewis says. \u201cBut speaking of money, how\u2019s the new job?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s fine.\u201d There\u2019s always a new job with Joseph. He lives in a large, dirty apartment in Wrigleyville, and can\u2019t hold down a job for more than a few months. Lewis can never pin down what his son does all day. Something with Twitter.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd what is your title, again?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAssociate social media coordinator.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSounds impressive.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFour whole words, though.\u201d<\/p>\n

When Joseph was a boy, Lewis once finagled a press pass into Cubs\u2019 clubhouse so they could meet Sammy Sosa. Joseph played right field in Little League, wore number twenty-one, and had brought his glove to the game in the vain hope of catching a ball. He even brought a rookie card for Sosa to sign. When Sosa brushed past Lewis and Joseph without so much as even acknowledging them, Lewis did nothing. Well, I guess he\u2019s pretty busy, Lewis had said, and they watched the game glumly and went home, and the look of disappointment on his son\u2019s face was the same look he\u2019d seen so many times on Audrey\u2019s face, the same features, the same bright blue eyes and furrowed brow, and even now he burned with shame for not grabbing that son of a bitch by the shoulder and demanding an autograph, or at least nod of encouragement for his son.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, it\u2019s basically still entry-level,\u201d Joseph said.<\/p>\n

\u201cCoworkers?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019re all right.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPays well?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d rather not talk about that in front of everyone,\u201d Joseph says.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe just doesn\u2019t get it. After this many years, she will never get it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGet what, exactly?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI feel like I\u2019m living two lives…\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut\u2026 I\u2019m not living either. I\u2019m a goddamn surgeon, goddamn it. I\u2019m supposed to be the king of the country. Yet I\u2019m not living at all.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd that\u2019s not okay for you anymore?\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

The waiter backs through the kitchen doors and spins around into the dining room, impressively balancing five plates in his hands and across his forearms. These guys here at Hawton\u2019s are professionals, you have to give them that. Lewis is going to ask for a side of penne in vodka sauce, cholesterol be damned. A splurge now and again isn\u2019t the worst thing in the world. Seeing the food puts him in a good mood, he realizes. His mouth is actually watering.<\/p>\n

Maybe Dallas won\u2019t be so bad. Hell of a lot warmer than Chicago. And a growing, older population, which means plenty of work. It also means leaving Joseph here alone, up to his own devices, but the boy is almost thirty, well past time to start being his own man. And, conveniently, it\u2019ll justify Lewis to stop paying the rent for that slum in Wrigleyville.<\/p>\n

\u201cGet ready, Benjamin,\u201d he says, trying to be conciliatory. \u201cThis is the state of the art.\u201d<\/p>\n

And surely there will be grandkids soon. It might even be fun, playing with them. \u201cI\u2019m willing to bet they don\u2019t have restaurants like this where you\u2019re from.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, it\u2019s Dallas,\u201d Benjamin says. \u201cWe\u2019ve got, like, the best steakhouses in the nation.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot this good.\u201d Lewis hates when people argue for no reason.<\/p>\n

\u201cUm, but wait,\u201d Kimberly says, lifting her hand as if trying to answer a question in class.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re talking about the food now, honey,\u201d Lewis says.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut the wedding\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought we covered this already,\u201d Lewis says.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut,\u201d Kimberly says.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course we\u2019re going to pay for it,\u201d Lewis says. \u201cNow. Benny, my boy: you two have been dating, what, three years now?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFour,\u201d Benjamin replies.<\/p>\n

\u201cFour years.\u201d He turns back to his daughter. \u201cKimmy, I don\u2019t understand. How come you haven\u2019t brought him back to Chicago?\u201d<\/p>\n

She looks apprehensive for some reason, which is odd. Or, surprised. \u201cNever came up, I guess.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lewis raises his wine glass and waits for his family to get the drift. His arm feels heavy for some reason, so he switches his glass to the other. \u201cWell,\u201d he says, \u201cto Benjamin, It\u2019s nice to finally meet you.\u201d<\/p>\n

They all raise their wine glasses, water for Audrey because she doesn\u2019t drink, and Joseph says, \u201cWelcome to the family, bro,\u201d and they all laugh, though it\u2019s not funny, and clink a mock-cheers.<\/p>\n

Lewis can smell the food, now. \u201cA thought occurs to me,\u201d he says. \u201cLet\u2019s swing by Margie\u2019s Candies for an ice cream sundae after this.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat would be fun,\u201d Audrey says, and Lewis feels a pang of real warmth for her. As much as he used to wish her gone, the truth is that the fantasy of an unfettered life without her always terrified him more than the mirthless reality of her inveterate philistinism. In truth, he knew, he adored her.<\/p>\n

\u201cMargie\u2019s is an institution here in the Windy City,\u201d he says to Benjamin. \u201cAl Capone went there. It\u2019s over in Wicker Park\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBucktown,\u201d Audrey says.<\/p>\n

\u201cBucktown, whatever. Humboldt Park. Logan Square. All the same place. We used to take the kids all the time, didn\u2019t we?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo you didn\u2019t,\u201d Joseph says quietly, and Lewis chooses to ignore him.<\/p>\n

\u201cI hadn\u2019t had a real conversation with my wife in years. Until last night. We talked about Kim and Ben coming in tomorrow, and taking them out to dinner, and maybe visiting Paris this summer instead of Paul and his obnoxious family in Orlando again. I\u2019ve always wanted to see Paris. I\u2019m actually kind of\u2026 excited. About my life. For the first time in a long time.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo it works then?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll be damned, Neil. You finally made a joke.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Lewis sets down his wine glass and reaches for a hunk of dinner roll to sop up salted oil. Benny seems like a good kid. And the Jews and the Catholics, everyone\u2019s all trying to get to the same place. They\u2019re just taking different roads to get there. \u201cTomorrow we\u2019re doing Lou Malnati\u2019s. You can\u2019t visit Chicago without eating deep dish, Ben.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lewis doesn\u2019t feel the betrayal. He doesn\u2019t feel the tiny clot of bloodfat detach itself from his carotid artery and send itself soaring through his blood like a man in a small canoe plunging through whitewater rapids, propelled by his beleaguered, treasonous heart, fighting mightily and courageously against the thirty-two point two feet per second per second pull of gravity, up his neck toward his brain.<\/p>\n

Lewis looks at his family, soon to be expanded by one, and considers\u2014no, resolves\u2014to end things with Elizabeth when they speak later that night. Permanently. Lewis can\u2019t offer her anything; his life is too bound up with Audrey and his kids, even if it isn\u2019t perfect. And Elizabeth, she\u2019s still young. You know, I envy your wife, she\u2019d once said, and Lewis sort of laughed and asked why. He then listed all the wonderful things Elizabeth had: the travel, the art, the beautiful apartment, the adventures. Elizabeth had once taken a fucking helicopter to ski down a mountain in British Columbia. She\u2019s raised two kids, she replied.<\/p>\n

No, Elizabeth needs to find a man who actually lives in New York\u2014or will take the plunge and move there\u2014and who will make love to her, and treat her the way she deserves. Lewis knows he can do none of those things. And he knows that, deep down, he doesn\u2019t want to. He wants to grow old with Audrey.<\/p>\n

And so while he\u2019s thinking this Lewis does not understand why, when he tries to daub the bread into his plate of salted olive oil his hand won\u2019t move the way he wants it to, and he doesn\u2019t understand why his wife and daughter are screaming at him, are they so excited about Margie\u2019s Candies, or Lou Malnati\u2019s? He tells them both to sit down and conduct themselves accordingly, they are in a fancy restaurant, for Chrissakes, but they keep gesturing and now even Joseph has stood up, his chair falling backward, the kid needs to get a hold of himself\u2014<\/p>\n

Lewis does not feel the furnace of blood vessels, bursted in flame.<\/p>\n

He does not see the left half of his body go slack, but the darkness visible.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Lewis relishes, slightly and mischievously, the young couple\u2019s na\u00efve discourse about bridesmaids and flower centerpieces, as if it all means something. They are blissfully unaware of the inevitable mutual loathing that plagues all marriages. <\/p>\n

She\u2019s your problem now, Benny-boy. Enjoy paying for Amazon deliveries the rest of your life.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":16771,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[2604,713,27,361,1047,193],"class_list":["post-16640","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","tag-abuse","tag-fatherhood","tag-fathers","tag-masculinity","tag-men","tag-therapy","writer-phillip-scott-mandel"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16640","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=16640"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16640\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":16787,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16640\/revisions\/16787"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/16771"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=16640"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=16640"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=16640"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}