by Phil Stern
Revel in life, in all it’s glorious imperfection. But most of all, protect and love the inner you. Cherish her as she needs and deserves.
Because, at the end of the day, no one can ever understand her, or him, the way you do.
STEVE LEVINE
Marauder died four years ago. To this day I still miss him.
Even at age 16 he was a robust cat, strong and muscular. He’d moved with me countless times throughout my college and early professional years. To Marauder, “home” was simply being with me, and he was happy as long as we were together. I can’t tell you how much I loved his mere presence, a reassuring friend amid the talk radio storm of angry bosses and fading dreams.
Marauder started losing weight about three weeks before my disastrous final day on the air. I’d like to say I was instantly concerned, but to be honest the growing pressure at work, not to mention Marauder’s own extensive paunch, limited my awareness of kitty dropping a few pounds.
By the time I did notice Marauder’s ever slimming frame I was temporarily living with Mom after being fired from my last radio job. He wasn’t eating much, and was clearly without energy. The first vet diagnosed Marauder with dental disease, putting him on pills my black cat took only grudgingly. For about a month he seesawed back and forth, fading one day and then re-energizing the next. Distracted by my flailing career, I frequently raced out of town for interviews, leaving Mom to feed Marauder and let me know if anything really seemed amiss.
Returning one Sunday night, though, I could tell he was definitely worse. Marauder’s eyes were very dull, and he had trouble even dragging himself to the water dish. The next morning he perked up, but by that afternoon I knew he was in trouble. I held and cuddled him into the evening, trying to get my cat to eat, and then finally took him to a 24-hour emergency clinic.
When the emergency technician removed Marauder from his carrying case, he took two steps and then collapsed on the floor. Glaring at me in obvious disapproval, the young woman then whisked him off for emergency oxygen and intravenous drugs.
Ten minutes later the vet told me Marauder was in grave condition and gave me three options: simply take him home (presumably to die on his own), do a full battery of tests and admit him to the hospital, or put him to sleep.
To do the tests and admit Marauder until the morning would have cost $2,000. After some discussion the vet admitted $400 in tests would provide a pretty good indication of where we were going with all this, so I authorized the limited diagnostic tests. I then spent 45 minutes crying in a back office of the animal hospital, hoping against hope Marauder would make it.
Still, when the doctor came out, it wasn’t good. Marauder’s blood pressure was so low they’d had trouble even running the tests. Everything indicated both cancer and kidney failure. The doctor explained that Marauder’s three-month collapse was very typical of cats, who often mask the severity of their own condition until the very end.
Now the discussion turned to engaging an animal oncologist, with kitty cat chemotherapy to follow, but only after spending another two grand for a “conclusive” diagnosis. To keep Marauder alive another 24 hours would have cost about five grand. And even if we went ahead with that, the vet admitted an absolute best case scenario would see Marauder living another six months to a year (and even those were long odds), but only with extensive, painful treatment. Most of his final months, or whatever time he had left, would be spent in the hospital.
Staring off into the night through the window, I told the vet it was time to put Marauder to sleep. Only after I made the call did the vet admit that even keeping him alive until the morning was unlikely. I get it, though. I had to make the decision.
So I cried some more and then went in to say goodbye to Marauder.
They had him wrapped in blankets (his body temperature having already dropped) with a little IV in one leg. Looking up at me, Marauder gasped, his eyes drifting closed. I think he knew it was time.
My wonderful cat, my one constant friend throughout my 20's and early 30's, died with his head on my hand. He passed away peacefully, without pain. I cried some more, hugged him one last time, and left.
It’s a stunning thing to witness another living creature’s entire life cycle. I can still picture Marauder as a six-week old kitten, and then dying before me, the images juxtaposed in my mind.
So I spent another three months looking for a radio job, but outside of the tools who sold their souls to become conservative shills, the industry had virtually collapsed. After speaking to an old acquaintance one day, I decided to take a job in Florida doing water treatment sales.
Part Four
DAVE MILLER
All right, I think I’m finally ready to write about the night back in college that drove us all apart. You know, I never thought I’d be doing this, but here it goes.
Like I said, Jen was pregnant with Mandy at the time. We’d just married and moved into our new home in Rockland County. I was on a weekend trip back to Buffalo to grab my stuff and head back downstate.
Steve was still pretty upset about me leaving school. I mean, he tried to play it cool and all, but I could tell it really bothered him.
“But I don’t understand why you had to marry her,” he repeated yet again as we loaded the last boxes into the moving van. “I mean, dude. You didn’t have to…”
“Hey, Steve. Give it a rest, all right?” Even in Buffalo, it was pretty hot in late August. Leaning against the back of the van, I took a long swig of water. “Enough. It’s what I had to do, all right?”
“No. It’s what those crazy people said you had to do,” he insisted. “You didn’t have to marry her.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Well, now you’ve lost all control. You have to live where they say, do what they say…”
“That’s bullshit.”
“No, it isn’t.” Steve pushed the last box into the cargo area, sitting back on the rear deck with me. “They told you to leave school, you leave school. They tell you where to live, you go off and…”
“Look, Steve. Here’s the thing.” I then explained to him, yet again, about my own father leaving my family at a young age, and how I promised myself never to do the same to anybody else. Clearly, he was unimpressed.
“Different situation,” he declared. “Your parents had decided, for some godforsaken reason, to marry and have a family. You’re being forced into this against your will.”
“It’s not against my will,” I objected. “I chose to marry Jen…”
“Wrong. They guilted you into it and you went along.”
I thought about that for a moment, the two of us still sitting on the van’s back bumper, staring down a pleasant Buffalo residential street. “And so you think I fucked up here?”
“Absolutely.” That was the thing about Steve. He had no tact whatsoever. “They’re using you, Dave. For appearances. And now Jen just thinks you’re a complete tool.”
You know, in retrospect Steve was dead on. I’ve never thought about it that way until now.
“Anyway, buddy,” he continued. “We’re having a party for you tonight. We’re calling it ‘Dave’s Dirge.’”
“Great.”
“I’m going to miss you, you know.” Looking down, I could tell he was really bummed out.
“Hey, Steve. Don’t worry. We’ll still hang.” Punching him on the shoulder, I looked back into the van. Somehow all your college possessions look pretty dumpy shoved into the back of a moving truck. “You can come down and stay with us.”
“Yeah, sure.” Now smiling again, Steve sighed. “I’m sure Jen would love that.”
“Don’t worry, man. She’ll be good to go.” Reflecting back on it now, I realize I didn’t believe a word of it.
STEVE LEVINE
So we threw this big party on a Saturday night the weekend Dave came back to Buffalo. Everyone was there. Sophia and Brooke, of course. There were these other two guys we knew, Ed and Charlie. And Rachel. Well, more about her in a
minute.
But anyway, I’d come up with a cool name for the whole thing. ‘Dave’s Devastation,’ I think? I don’t know. Usually, none of us were really heavy drinkers, but I’d picked up a keg in Dave’s honor. And anyway, back in those days you couldn’t have a house party without plenty of beer.
Sophia and I were together then, but it was kind of weird. She wanted to hang with other people, go on trips, drop out of school…I mean, it was a different fucking agenda every day.
And she was acting out in bizarre ways. More than usual, I mean. I remember Brooke had just put these odd blonde streaks in her dark hair, so Sophia came to the party with matching red streaks in her blonde hair. I’m sure there was some signal there, but no one had the fucking code book. And even on the best of days, deciphering Sophia was never easy.
Sophia was also talking openly about wild sexual stuff. I mean, crazy things for us to do together. Look, don’t get me wrong, I was into most of it. But still, they weren’t the kind of activities a Catholic chick is supposed to be into, you know? It was all a bit off.
So part of me was afraid she was spinning completely out of control. One day’s experiment turning into another day’s life plan, you know? With Sophia, anything was possible. And with Dave leaving Buffalo and all…well, it was all a little much.
SOPHIA DANTON
There was a girl at the party, Rachel, that Steve and I were thinking of fucking together. It was his idea. Steve was all into her because Rachel looked like Wonder Woman.
Back in the day, Steve had a thing for Wonder Woman. There was this huge poster of Lynda Carter in patriotic short-shorts, boots, golden lasso, and a tiara hanging over his bed. Actually, I used to like being on top of Steve and fucking his brains out there, Wonder Woman gazing down in obvious approval.
“They’ve got to all be lesbians, right?” Once again, Dave and the boys were debating the exact nature of Paradise Island, where Wonder Woman allegedly came from. “I mean, all these super hot chicks playing volleyball, throwing spears, and drinking margaritas all fucking day long? With no guys? What’s up with that?”
“Well, at least bisexual,” Steve allowed, sipping beer from the ubiquitous college-era plastic cup. Never being able to completely agree with anyone was one of Steve’s more annoying qualities.
“Yeah, and it’s all S and M shit,” fat Ed blathered, spilling beer all over the place. “They all had ropes and metal bracelets. I mean, what the fuck?”
“You’re all a bunch of pussies.” Brooke now sauntered over, daintily perching on the couch. “You guys are threatened by powerful women.”
“Then why do I have Wonder Woman in my room?” Steve asked.
“Because you get off on her, you fucking perv.”
“Well, what can I tell you?” Shrugging, Steve quickly grabbed Marauder, who was tentatively stretching one of his huge extra-toed paws up and into the ranch dip. “Lynda Carter was the very first woman I jerked off to, and I’m not the kind of guy to just fuck and dump a girl.”
“So Dave, you’re really married, huh?” Charlie was another guy we knew from back then. “I mean, dude, what the fuck?”
“Yeah, he’s gone all bourgeois on us,” Steve said.
“Hey.” Brooke punched him on the shoulder, grabbing Marauder away. “Fuck you, Steve! Dave did the right thing.”
“Whatever.”
Just then Rachel came trotting up the stairs with another friend. Everyone greeted them.
“Hey beautiful.” Coming over, Rachel gave me a warm hug. “How’s it going?”
Looking over her shoulder, I saw Steve giving us a huge smile, taking a sip of beer with a devious wink.
DAVE MILLER
So right after Rachel shows up, Sophia tears into Steve over his shitty attitude concerning my recent nuptials.
“Hey, Steve, knock it the fuck off, all right?” Dressed in tight jeans, a white shirt, and these tall black boots, Sophia definitely looked good to go. “Dave did the right thing.”
“Not for him, he didn’t”
“Hey, fuck you Steve!” By now Brooke had a few drinks in her. “You know what? When birds mate and lay eggs, they stay together for their whole lives! What about that, Steve?”
“Number one, Dave isn’t a bird.” Nodding sagely, Steve pointed in my direction. “Number two, birds are obviously pussies.”
“I’ll drink to that!” Someone bellowed, sloshing beer all over the rug. “Fucking pussies!”
Rolling her eyes, Sophia threw herself down on the couch between us, shoving me aside and turning to Steve. “Stop it!” she hissed so that only the three of us could hear. “You should be supporting Dave, not making fun of him!”
“How am I making fun of him!” Eating peanuts, Steve nodded. “Brooke’s the one accusing him of being a bird!”
“Steve!” Shifting back slightly, Sophia’s perfect ass was now shoved firmly against my hip. I got to admit, I was a little turned on. “Please be supportive.”
“Absolutely.” Leaning forward, Steve looked past her gorgeous neck at me. “Dave, have I not been completely supportive of all this?”
“Sure, Steve,” I think I said. “No question.”
“And anyway buddy, no matter what anyone says, I know you’re not a bird.”
I laughed, very aware of Sophia’s back and ass pressed against my side.
STEVE LEVINE
So here’s the thing. Dave comes back to Buffalo all bummed out about marrying Jen, and he promptly begins hitting on Sophia.
I mean, what the fuck? He’s getting all cozy with her on the couch, shoving up against her back, the whole deal. Here’s a guy who wants a fucking knighthood for knocking up and then marrying the world’s biggest bimbo, and he’s putting the moves on my girl. I couldn’t fucking believe it.
At least, that’s what I thought at the time. I mean, we’d all been drinking…well, let me continue.
About then Rachel comes over, looking all sexy, talking to fat Ed. This was the girl that Sophia had already told me she wanted to do a threesome with. Which was great, obviously, but like I said it was also pretty weird.
I mean, look. It wasn’t like, hey, I’m a bi-curious Catholic chick who wants to get it on with the nice girl next door and then you can fuck us both type-thing. That would have been cool.
Instead, it was more like this intense I’m Sophia Danton, fuck my parents, it’s time for some wacky, crazy, sexual shit type-stuff. I don’t know. You had to know her back then.
And anyway, so far it was all talk and no action. I mean, how the hell does one initiate that sort of thing?
“You know what I can’t stand about being a teacher?” Brooke was doing her student teaching about then. “All these parents who explain to you exactly how their children learn.” Exasperated, she began pacing around the room, almost spilling beer on Marauder. “My child learns visually, this other child learns orally, this one doesn’t like to read…I mean, my God! Am I supposed to tailor a specific class for each child?”
But nobody gave a fuck. “So, Dave.” Now squirming around between us, Sophia’s face is about an inch from his. “What’s the best thing about being married?”
“Uh, I don’t know,” he fucking says. The most loquacious guy in the world when it comes to Star Trek or the merits of the space program, now Dave can’t say anything with Sophia around. Over her shoulder I could see him just staring at her like a fucking tool.
“Dave thinks it sucks,” I think I answered for him, massaging Sophia’s back. “He wishes he never even met Jen…”
“Steve,” she suddenly seethed, now flinging herself back around to face me. “Go! Fuck! Yourself! Dave is being a bigger man here than you ever were!”
SOPHIA DANTON
Look, that was a nasty thing to say, but here Steve was just being awful to Dave, who was the sweetest guy in the world, at a party supposedly being given in honor of his wedding. He needed to know what an ass he was being.
And I was really angry with Steve then.
I’m not even sure why. I guess all that pushing to do other girls. And I kind of liked the idea, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to do it with him. And then I felt guilty because I should want to do it with him! It was very confusing.
And I really liked Steve, but he wasn’t Catholic. Actually, he was kind of Jewish, but really an atheist. I knew my parents wouldn’t approve.
“Oh, so he’s a bigger man, is he?” Now Steve had that mean tone in his voice. “What the fuck does that mean?”
And, of course, I didn’t mean big in that way. Dave and I had never done anything sexual. But there I am, right in between them, facing a pissed off Steve, and now Dave’s hand is suddenly on my back. I mean, Steve had just been massaging my back, but that was different, of course. I thought of Dave as a brother, not a…well, you know. And he’d just gotten married and was expecting a child. It was all a little weird.
“Not what you think it does,” I firmly told Steve. “You’re the biggest man I know.” And then I kissed Steve, so everyone could see, but Dave kept his hand where it was, even though I kind of tried to shake it off.
So now Steve nuzzles my neck in that sexy way of his, but you could tell he’s still annoyed. “So maybe tonight’s the night with Rachel, babe,” he whispers in my ear. “What do you think?”
