Of course, I knew Bruce had a new partner now, and I had no desire to compete with her, in the same way I never tried to overreach my stepparent role by acting like David’s daughters’ real mother. But I’d been determined to incorporate Bruce into my new life with David, even when it had created tension for me at home. And I’d assumed that Bruce would also attempt to make room, if not for me, at least with the boys, and especially when it came to major holidays and birthdays. How could a parent not even pick up the phone to call their child on his birthday and say “Happy birthday”? I witnessed firsthand how Brandon and Brody had their feelings hurt, time after time, at such oversights from Bruce. I couldn’t understand then, nor do I now, that kind of parental disregard.
That New Year’s Eve, David and I celebrated at Essam and Layla’s Lake Tahoe home. We were among just a few couples having a New Year’s Eve dinner down in their wine cellar, when we were asked to go around the table and say what our biggest thrill and our greatest disappointment of the year had been.
When it was my turn to survey the year that had been, and where I now found myself in life, I became very emotional.
“The greatest sorrow for me was that I felt like I lost my best friend,” I said. My eyes fogged with tears. I thought privately and protectively of how my special bond with Bruce, which, in my perception, had only been strengthened during the difficult trials we’d undergone, including the revelation of his gender dysphoria, had been severed for no apparent reason.
After marrying Kris, Bruce not only dismissed me from his life and limited his involvement with his children. He also let go of his PR representative, his personal manager (who had been with him since before the Olympics), and his business manager. Apparently, according to Bruce, Kris wanted to take control of his career and affairs. To her credit, around this time Bruce did enjoy a resurgence in his career. I’m sure this was a huge relief for him after all the anxiety he’d endured about how he would make his way in the world if he transitioned. And perhaps it afforded him a different kind of empowerment and a fresh start that then necessitated him pulling away from the life he had known before. Given how much he’d struggled since our divorce, I’m sure Kris was a lifeline for Bruce. And having needed my own lifeline in the wake of his revelation to me, I did not fault him for turning to his new marriage as a source of solace. I only wished his distancing himself from his old life had not been so resolute and profound, given the pain it caused our sons.
Now, before you begin thinking I blame Kris for Bruce’s shortcomings as a father, let me assure you, that’s not really the case. While I could not personally respect or love a man who didn’t take care of all his children, the responsibility was always Bruce’s. That was ultimately on his shoulders.
After a few years it had become abundantly clear that Bruce had checked out of his kids’ lives, so I filed for sole physical custody. Bruce didn’t contest it, because he wasn’t actively involved in their lives anyway. Of course, I made it clear that he was very welcome to visit anytime he wanted. But he never made much of an effort to see them. Since Bruce wasn’t around as much as I had trusted he would be and had not provided any money for the care of our sons, ten years after we separated, I went back to court for child support. David insisted I do so, as he was paying generous support for his children and felt Bruce should be, too. David was not wrong about that. Bruce and Kris were chagrined, but it was granted, and Bruce did subsequently pay a small sum each month for a few years.
Anytime I would feel resentment welling within me for Bruce’s lack of caring or participation in his children’s lives, I’d remind myself that his was a struggle none would envy, and that I needed to call upon my innermost reservoir of kindness and forgiveness to not harbor anger toward him. He was probably doing the best he could at the time given his circumstances.
Ever since David and I had started dating, I’d always been thankful for the fatherly role he’d played for my sons. My sons truly loved him, and do to this day. Even while Bruce was still in the picture, David had played a paternal role for them, but after Bruce disappeared, he was the only father figure they had present. It meant a great deal to me anytime David stepped in and acted like a dad to the boys. Like all of us, David did a few things wrong, but a greater number of things right when it came to helping to raise my sons.
One day not long after we were married, the three of them were busy doing something in the garage together. I went out to investigate.
“What are you guys doing?” I asked.
“We’re building a doghouse, Mom,” the boys said, excitement in their voices.
I smiled, knowing that David doesn’t even like dogs, despite the fact that we had several. Of course, maybe it was his way of expressing his subliminal wish that the dogs would be relegated to the doghouse outside. Not that they were. I watched the planning process unfold over several days. And then they got out the hammers, nails, wood, and paint and got to work.
It was a sweet moment, which all of them still remember as very meaningful. David was so busy with his career and doing girly things with his daughters. But this was a moment when he gave the boys his time and attention and did one of the boyish things with them that I often wished their father were around to do.
He taught them how to look people in the eye when giving a handshake. I believe David tried his best to be a good parent to my sons and his daughters. With so many children from different circumstances it had to be challenging.
Another time, David helped the boys and me with a science project.
“Let’s build a maze and put a piece of cheese at the end,” I said. “We’ll time the mouse and see how long it takes him to get to the cheese.”
I came up with the idea, but I’m not very good at construction, and so David helped us to build the maze. He was a very smart, industrious guy, and he could be quite handy. He was being present for the boys, which of course mattered the most.
David also got them into hockey. As a Canadian, David was rabid about the sport. Wayne Gretzky, who played for the Los Angeles Kings from 1988 to 1996 and is without doubt one of the greatest players of all time, was one of David’s good friends, and David was also friendly with many other hockey players. We had season tickets for the Kings, and we all loved to go to all of the games together. We only had four seats together, but we also had four kids, including David’s daughters, Sara and Erin. So we’d pile the extra kids onto our laps, and we’d end up with nachos and cheese on our clothes and shoes and popcorn everywhere. We were a loud, messy group, but it was a family thing that we enjoyed doing together. Those outings meant so much to me, and to the kids, too. I hope it is a great memory for our children.
Every year for the Stanley Cup playoffs, David put together a big cardboard chart of all the teams, and he and the boys checked off the teams as they were eliminated. David and Brandon and Brody got really into it, and I loved nothing more than to come upon the three of them working on their chart together, laughing and talking about something that had happened in the latest game. Even in the midst of our chaotic lives, and with so many demands on his time, David gave the boys and me his attention in these moments, and they definitely remain some of my favorite memories. I will always appreciate the involvement and support of David in Brandon’s and Brody’s growth and development.
Still, no amount of David’s efforts could make up for Bruce’s absence. As the years went on, there were scattered, fragmented occasions on which Brandon and Brody spent time with Bruce. Sometimes the boys went to a big social party at Bruce and Kris’s on Christmas Eve. Sometimes they were invited, or pressured, into posing for the annual over-the-top Christmas card the Kardashian/Jenner clan was notorious for. Once they went to Lake Tahoe with them. But they never felt they got to know their father very well when they were growing up.
The boys got to know their paternal grandparents a little bit only because of my rather covert efforts. Their grandfather Bill Jenner had a home in Lake Tahoe, and whenever we took t
he boys with us to visit the Khashoggis at their house in Lake Tahoe, I always made the effort to drive around the lake to Bill’s place, so the boys could spend time with him. We were always instructed not to tell Bruce that we had visited.
I also did everything within reason to make it possible for the boys to spend time with Bruce’s mother. She called me one day, a few years after Bruce had remarried.
“I’m in town, and I have seen Bruce and some of the kids,” she said. “I would like to see Brandon and Brody, but I know Bruce doesn’t see them. Could I please come over and see them? But you mustn’t tell Bruce.”
I was disappointed that apparently Bruce didn’t want his mother to even visit with his sons in our home, but I didn’t say anything and simply let her know she was always welcome.
“Of course,” I said. “You should come over for dinner. We’d love to see you.” She did come to the house for dinner. While she was visiting with us, the phone rang and Brandon answered. Surprisingly, it was Bruce.
“Is my mother at your house?” Bruce said. “Let me talk to her.”
When she got on the phone, I could hear Bruce yelling at her. I guess we were perceived to be the enemy camp. It was tragic, and grossly unfair to the children and their grandparents.
To be fair, there was one occasion that Bruce and Kris invited the boys to go skiing at Deer Valley, Utah. I was happy for the boys that they were going to be able to spend time with their dad, doing something they loved. Unfortunately, they both got sick, and developed ear infections and were advised against flying, so they had to cancel their trip. That situation seemed to be flipped into a defense for Bruce, the assertion that I somehow kept the kids from him. Bruce and Kris wore that one out. I think they were influenced by the ongoing drama of baseball player Steve Garvey and his wife, Cyndy. During this high-profile, very bitter divorce, Cyndy allegedly kept Steve’s daughters from him. I felt like Bruce and Kris were trying to suggest that I must be another Cyndy Garvey. For the record, I never made any attempt to keep my children from their father.
The truth is, as a loving, responsible parent, you want what is best for your child. That is for them to feel loved and wanted by both parents. That’s what I always longed for regarding my sons. And taking it a step further, there is nothing or no one who could ever keep me from being there for my children. If I had to go to court, slay dragons, or walk over burning coals barefoot, I could not be kept away from my kids. That falls under the category of being inexcusable. Forgivable, but inexcusable. I’ve had to remind myself of that philosophy often in my life.
While Bruce was not present in the boys’ lives, they bore his name. When they were out and people heard their last name, they often asked the boys if they were any relation to Bruce Jenner, the Olympic hero. The boys were always proud of any association with their father and always excitedly answered that, yes, Bruce Jenner was their dad. While they almost never got to interact with Bruce as a person, his perfect Olympic-sized image loomed large in their imaginations. This would have been enough pressure for them to contend with as young men, but they never got the upside to having him be a constant in their growth and development.
I was forever cognizant of the fact that one day they were going to discover the truth about who Bruce Jenner really was. Even though he wasn’t a consistent presence in their lives, by virtue of the fact he was their biological father that truth would have an impact. Eventually they were going have to be able to assimilate the challenging reality about their father and to rebound psychologically and emotionally. I continued to do my best to give them all of the tools they would need, so they would be able to go on with their lives and feel confident and secure in themselves, no matter what. All of those concerns fed into my parenting, and I felt like I needed to do my best to be their mother, father, and psychologist all rolled into one.
One day I was driving Brandon home from a Little League game where he had pitched a no-hitter and we saw Bruce on the lawn at Pepperdine University, hitting golf balls.
“Mommy, look … that’s Dad,” Brandon said. “He was right here! Why didn’t he come to my game instead of hitting golf balls?”
“Well, Brandon, when you have a disappointment like that in your life, you can either get mad and act out in a destructive way, or you can determine to just be the very best you can be, and show your dad just what he missed by not being there!” I said.
“Mommy!” Brandon said, an incredulous look on his little, innocent face. “I was just thinking that very same thing! I’m going to be the best I can be, and show Dad what he missed!”
At those words, I was deeply moved that Brandon was such an evolved indomitable spirit, but my heart broke more than a little that he was put in a position to have to rise above such emotional pain.
“What I Wish for You”
That God will hear your prayer
When you reach out in need
That every cloud will disappear
Where angels lead
Someone to love
Who loves you, too
This is what I wish for you
A pearl of wisdom
From a single grain of sand
The miracle of life
To try and understand
A road that’s smooth
A sky that’s blue
This is what I wish for you
A world that sleeps in peace
Yours to keep
And hold forever in your heart
A living faith that’s always true
A perfect universe is what I wish for you
That simple truth
Will always hold your heart on course
And kindness will survive to live
Without remorse
That time’s not fast
And love will last
This is what I wish for you
A living faith that’s always true
A perfect universe is what I wish for you
The knowledge way down deep
That you are truly loved
The courage to believe
Sometimes that is enough
Sweet memories
Of you and me
This is what I wish for you
This is what I wish for you
LYRIC: LINDA THOMPSON
Chapter Twenty-one
Academy Award–Nominated Songwriter
While I was grateful to David for his presence in the boys’ lives and I was unquestionably in love with him, if I’d held out hope that our marriage would suddenly cause him to treat our relationship with greater respect, it was soon revealed that I was mistaken.
During our first year of marriage, David would often get angry at me over something inconsequential and then leave in a fit of anger and not let me know where he was or when he would be returning. He would simply disappear for days or weeks at a time. I was accustomed to David’s temper and the dramatic behavior it could sometimes cause, but the first time or two he went missing in action, I feverishly called friends and family trying to determine his whereabouts. I didn’t know if I should call the authorities to report him missing or not.
Well, do I call the police? I wondered. Is he lying in a ditch somewhere? What do I do?
“Do you know where David is?” I asked when I finally reached a friend in the know.
“Oh yeah, he called me; he’s staying on his boat. He’s just taking a break.”
David’s boat was moored in Marina del Rey. He was gone that time for a week.
When David eventually came home, he was totally nonchalant. This was new for me. While Elvis and David both had fiery tempers, here was a big distinction between them. Elvis was always profusely apologetic and reconciliatory when he allowed his anger to get the best of him. David would get angry, disappear, unaccounted for, then come back acting like nothing had happened and expecting me to go along with him. Elvis was difficult, but never this difficult.
Had I been stronger, maybe I would have left him the first time he pulled t
hat shenanigan, no matter that we’d just gotten married and I loved him deeply. But I had two little boys to raise, and not only did I want them to have a present father: I also didn’t want them to experience another loss in their lives so close to the unavailability of their biological father. Without Bruce, suddenly the stakes of leaving David felt even higher. Though aspects of David’s personality were unpredictable, at least he was a fairly constant presence in their daily lives. Given all of this, I felt like I needed to toughen up and muscle through the hurtful moments of my marriage. If that meant suffering indignities occasionally, so be it. I wasn’t the first parent to sacrifice a portion of happiness for their children’s sake, and I won’t be the last, either. Since I was always the primary parent in my sons’ lives anyway, they were most often not even aware that David had inexplicably gone missing. When it was possible, I covered for him by lamely blaming his schedule or travel for his absence, so they wouldn’t be upset, too, if they noticed he wasn’t home.
I made excuses for the worst of his behavior and tried not dwell on it, rather choosing to focus on the positives. I tried my best to blame his absences on his being a temperamental, artistic, mad musical genius, but in truth, it was an emotionally and psychologically damaging thing to do. After a few of these episodes with the same outcome, I knew not to call the police to report a missing person. Not missing—just unconscionably inconsiderate.
It was in the midst of the turbulent months following our wedding that David and I had embarked on a new project together, one that would in many ways be the commercial pinnacle of our joined efforts. And as was often the case with our musical endeavors, it also served to bring us back together.
David had gotten a call from our friend Kevin Costner about a new movie he was doing, The Bodyguard, which starred him and Whitney Houston and would come out on November 25, 1992. At this moment in time, Kevin was so revered for his creative accomplishments and talents that he was given a remarkable amount of control over this movie, including production of its music as well.
A Little Thing Called Life Page 34
