The Satyr

by Tiana Laveen

  “You and your sister thought I was over here passed out drunk, didn’t ya?” Nixon lit a cigar, cracked the window, and eased his way to the left on Michigan Avenue. “Well? Didn’t ya?”

  “Dad, I didn’t know what the hell you were doin’, to be quite honest. But I knew that, with you, anything was a possibility.”

  “How dare you? I haven’t gotten wasted in ten damn years and four months! The audacity of you people!”

  “You people?” He chuckled. “You mean your concerned children? Those people?”

  “You’re not concerned—just worried you’d have to foot the bill for some elaborate funeral where everyone gathers around and lies about what an amazing guy I was and all that other bullshit. People who haven’t seen me in twenty fuckin’ years. It would be a miracle if any of the bastards still living would actually tell the truth while they’re standing there in front of my casket with me looking like a gray piece of chewing gum spit out on the gotdamn street! ‘Awww, doesn’t he look nice, Madge? Geez, he was a real swell guy! Lent me twenty bucks so I could go shoot up! Oh yeah, he was amazing… raised four kids. One of ’em is a manager at some fancy restaurant; another is a fuckin’ rich lawyer who walks around like his shit doesn’t stink; another is a housewife and married to a guy with the I.Q. of a donut and the face of a retarded turtle; and the second son blames him for everything that goes wrong in his life, even when McDonald’s forgets the extra pickles he’d ordered on his fuckin’ burger or the gotdamn ice cream machine is down for the third time that week! Yeah… he was magnificent… Morons. When are ya comin’ to Rhode Island?”

  Nixon wanted to strangle the steering wheel, wishing he were shocked by the conversation but hey, this was dad.

  “I have no idea. You know, every time we talk you ask me that, right? Why don’t you just record yourself and replay it?’”

  “Why don’t you just fuck yourself, smart ass?” They burst out laughing at the same time, in the same way. “Every time I ask, you say, ‘I have no idea.’ So I’ll just keep askin’. How’s ya mother? How’s my Alice doin’?”

  “She’s good… spoke to her a few days ago. She’s been working part-time at that school for the deaf. She knows she doesn’t have to, but you know how Mom is. She likes to keep busy.”

  “Good… good. She must’ve gone deaf too, while working there. Won’t take my calls. Ignores me lately.”

  “That’s not true. You just get under her skin. You’re an ass, but ya mean well.”

  They both expressed amusement at that.

  “We were amicable after the divorce, ya know? You guys got along with Sophie, no bad blood, so this just seemed out of the blue to me. Like she doesn’t wanna be bothered.” Nixon knew his dad would always love his mother, no matter what. “Anyway, maybe I should come back to Chicago and see my four ungrateful kids since not one of you bastards will come see about your own father!”

  “Did you or did you not fail to answer Maria’s calls? You’re the same man who, when I called you just two weeks ago, slammed the phone down because you were in the middle of watching an old Yankee’s game from 1982 on YouTube and didn’t want to be disturbed.”

  “Yeah, yeah, don’t mind me. I’m just the man who brought ya into this world!” his father went on, ignoring what he’d just said. “Without these cojones, you wouldn’t be driving around in that fancy car!”

  “I believe Mom had a big part in this, too, but please continue. Tell me all about how you busting a nut, having the best time of your life, should be praised,” Nixon teased.

  “Oh I will, buddy boy! If I’d known how you’d turn out, you’d have been in a damn tissue with a Playboy on the nightstand and flushed down the john, where you belonged.”

  The old man burst out laughing, causing Nixon to follow suit and shake his head. Dad had moved back to Rhode Island many years prior, the place where he’d been born and raised. His mother was up in age and needed taken care of. Dad being the only living child among his siblings felt it his duty to take up that task. It was supposed to be temporary, but after Grandma passed, he never returned to Chicago. After a while, everybody stopped asking him if he’d ever come back to the Windy City. It was as if he was afraid a ghost from the past would haunt him, memories of his old watering holes where at times he’d come apart and fight the entire staff in a drunken rage. Or maybe, seeing Alice, Nixon’s mom, would make him feel out of place and wiggle those old heart strings he knew would never regain the pleasure of her presence again.

  “I’m sober,” the old man stated, as if he’d once again been falsely accused.

  “I know, Dad. I could always tell when you were loaded.”

  Dad was an odd man, pretty much a functional alcoholic. Until retirement, he’d gone to work every damn day for Boeing, as a Production Manager. Always on time. Sometimes he’d even worked overtime, especially around Christmas when it was time to buy them all gifts. Santino Rossellini was a stand-up guy. A good guy. He would bury his hurt in a bottle and go to sleep loaded to the hilt, never bothering a soul. Yet, he’d taken care of his kids. He’d never beat his now ex-wife. He’d given her his check every week. Yet, he’d never brought himself to accept some of mom’s quirks, even after twenty years of marriage. He’d pick at her, belittle her. Her idiosyncrasies bothered him. Mom had gone from being a devoted Catholic with an open mind and gentle soul to an agnostic, leery of anyone claiming to have all the answers. This change had torn their household apart.

  Nixon suspected Mom had always felt that way but had never had the courage to admit this until she was out of her parents’ home. Still, their issue wasn’t actually about religion but the fact they simply didn’t like each other anymore. Not even a little bit. It seemed that everything his father had loved about the woman when they’d first married, he hated after they began having children. Reality had set in.

  Alice wasn’t meek and shy, like he’d thought. She was boisterous and full of ideas. Mom was into things like cutting-edge science and reading about endangered birds, strange and rare diseases, and figuring out the latest trends in Chicago real estate. She was book-smart, too, yet passed up pursuing a Master’s Degree in Engineering to be a full-time mom to four children she’d borne back to back. She was a tall, attractive, witty woman. A bit of a contradiction, too, since she also liked to curse and talk about crazy celebrity scandals. She’d often be seen holding a cigarette in one hand and a glass of apple cider in the other, discussing her extensive memorabilia of all things Jane Fonda. But to him, Mom was simply beautiful. Her imperfections and unwillingness to not question everything made her even lovelier.

  Being the eldest of his siblings, Nixon recalled things the others did not. In fact, he remembered his parents being extremely happy for a long ass time, and then, one day, something broke. Hard. Like fragmented pieces of a glacier drifting apart along the ocean. Truth be told, they’d never been compatible. They were just trying to be who they thought the other person wanted, year after year after year.

  And that scared the shit out of him. How could two people live that way? How could they stand it? Who in the fuck were they trying to impress? Once they finally admitted defeat, they both seemed happier… until recently. Mom appeared to recognize that she was aging, and this didn’t sit well with her. Dad had become less reliable. Maria accused him of falling into a depression since he’d retired and the rumor mill never stopped churning, spitting out that their stepmother, twelve years his junior with a stellar boob job and liposuction, was knockin’ boots with someone else at the company. AT&T certainly made booty calls.

  “Nixon! You fuckin’ son of a bitch!”

  Nixon blinked and slammed on his brakes. He’d been daydreaming, floating away, images of his childhood dancing about in his head like blowing Autumn leaves.

  “What? What?!”

  “I thought you were dead! I heard cars honkin’ and I was calling your name and got no response! Over there asphyxiating yourself or something? Or are you blacking out again?!” Nix
on raked a hand through his hair and focused back on the road.

  “Sorry, uh, I was just thinking is all. I never had problems with blacking out though, Dad.”

  “I meant to say sleepwalkin’. You used to sleepwalk sometimes, remember? It was scary as hell. Imagine being sound asleep in bed and seein’ this tall sixteen-year-old punk holdin’ a baseball bat by our fuckin’ bed, looking at us like he had no clue who in the hell we were. Your mother practically jumped outta her skin. You were just standin’ there like some statue.”

  Oh yeah. I’d forgotten about that.

  “Sleepwalking, huh? Yeah, I remember now. I’d done that a few times. I never remember what led up to it, though. Maybe it was a way for me to get a free vacation, if only in my mind.”

  “I’m getting on a plane. Comin’ to Chicago!”

  “You say it like it’s a threat. Bring your ass down here then. We’d love to see you.”

  “I will, motherfucker! I will!”

  Nixon took one more puff of his cigar then snuffed it in the ashtray.

  “In fact, let me buy your ticket, okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Can I stay at your house? Maria told me it was nice. A true blue bachelor pad! We could have a great weekend together!”

  “Not on your life. You’re going straight to a hotel.”

  “You piece of shit,” Dad mumbled under his breath.

  “It’ll be five-star. I promise.”

  “Oh? So now you’re too good to have your own father at your home?! Ashamed I might sit on your precious ten-thousand-dollar toilet and break it?”

  “It’s actually a really nice john. Black marble… heated… a real fucking piece of art.”

  “Ohhh, isn’t that special, Mr. Fancy Pants? You got to live with me, rent fuckin’ free for eighteen years! I paid for those damn karate kangaroo and chop suey classes of yours! I paid even for that summer you spent goofin’ off at that camp and got kicked out when you snuck out of your cabin, went skinny dipping at two in the morning, and was found makin’ out with one of the girls. We received no refund.”

  “Her name was Laura. Beautiful girl, but she had a vicious overbite that was being corrected by braces, which caused a bit of a challenge for fellatio. Let’s just say by the time we were caught, it had become a search and rescue mission. I was eternally fucking grateful. And so was my dick.”

  “You’re sick, ya know that? What about when I paid for that car accident ya had? You know, the one where you and your brother were high as fuckin’ kites and ran right into an off-duty cop of all people! You were giggling the whole time!”

  “It was weed! Blame Leonardo. I’d never done it before that night.”

  “You’re the eldest! Putting the blame on your brother… Shameful.”

  “Ya act like I was snortin’ coke. ‘You smoke crack, don’t ya?! It kills your brain cells, son. It destroys your brain cells!’ I had no idea you were Principal Joe Clark, Dad! You do kinda favor Morgan Freeman. The Italian, uptight version.”

  “Thank God you were a minor or there’s no way you would’ve been allowed to practice law. I paid for the—”

  “Relax, okay? It’s not about money, Dad.”

  “What’s it about, then? What are you afraid of? That I’ll see your elite collection of alien probe butt plugs and tin foil hats for all of you and your mother’s insane conspiracy theories?!”

  “You’re crazy, man.” Nixon laughed so hard, his face was hot.

  “A damn hotel! Shovin’ me in a corner like I’m some naughty child that spilled the milk! I’m gonna raid the gotdamn mini-bar, ya hear me, Nixon?! I’ll tear that place inside out! No alcohol, but I’ll drink every ten-dollar can of flat soda that’s in there to be had!”

  “I didn’t say you couldn’t come over, Dad. I’m saying you can’t stay the night. Now, be honest. You know if we spend too much time together, we argue. We butt heads.”

  “Oh, grow some hairy balls, would ya?! Wanna call Dr. Phil? We argue? So fuckin’ what. I argue with everyone! You’re not special.”

  “I don’t argue with everyone. I refuse.” He made a right turn, debating on whether to pick up a bite to eat on the way home or just throwing a frozen meal in the microwave. “It shortens your life. That’s why your blood pressure is sky high and you have to take those little pills. In a hotel you go, all expenses paid. I’ll even let you have a little shopping spree while you’re here. A new watch, coat, whatever. Get you looking snazzy.”

  “You can’t pay me off! Buy my silence!”

  “Why is it every time you open your mouth during this conversation you sound like a sound bite from some action-packed movie where the hero has been tied to a chair and is being interrogated? You’ll never take me alive!” Nixon’s head hurt with all the laughter.

  “Yeah? Well, I’ve got something for you, Nix. I know what I’ll do to you as soon as I get back in town, you muffin-headed fucker!”

  “…What will you do, Dad?” Nixon took a minute to ask that question, what with all the mirth bubbling inside him.

  “I’ll hire a gotdamn stripper or two, give ’em your credit card number, and tell ’em to have the time of their lives! They’ll go blow your hard-earned savings on heroin, a pimp with a limp named Earl, and the rest on medicated itch cream for their pussy, as well as hemorrhoid pads. Can’t forget those!”

  Nixon guffawed, unable to suppress it any longer. Dad was always ranting and raving, going off when he felt slighted or disrespected. The old Italian man with darkly tanned leather skin, East coast bravado, Midwest charm and sparkling honey eyes offered so much entertainment with these insane outbursts, he wasn’t frightening in the least. This didn’t take from the fact he was one of the smartest bastards Nixon had ever known. If he were a betting man, he’d swear his father was a damn genius.

  “So if I send the ticket and book the room, are you coming?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. And start answering Maria’s calls. You know how panicky she gets. She even got me concerned this time.”

  “I’m tougher than nails. Not going anywhere.”

  “Love you, old man.”

  “Shove it.”

  “Yeah. That means you love me, too.” Nixon smiled and ended the call with the push of a button. Once he hung up, he realized he had a new voicemail. He played it back as he drew closer to home.

  “Raze, this is Taz. Please call me as soon as you get this. Thanks!”

  He used a voice command to call Taz’s private cell number.

  “There you are! Hey, stranger,” she stated in a cheery voice. “What have you been up to?”

  “Pretty much working, taking care of some things. I just left the office, actually. I have to go home and continue though so it’ll be a long night. Have court early in the morning. How have you been?”

  “Great… Things are great, sweetie. Look, we have a special request for you, next Sunday afternoon. That’s enough notice. Can you come in?”

  “Oh… Gretchen must’ve not given you my message.”

  “Message? What message?”

  “I won’t be at The Cage for a bit, Taz.” A long silence ensued on the other end of the phone. “I have something to take care of and that would… well, that sort of thing would, ya know, interfere.”

  “Cut the bullshit. You love it here. You live and breathe this place. It’s your home away from home so just fess up.”

  “Fess up?” He laughed, buying time.

  “Nix and shit almost rhyme. I see why now, ’cause you on that bullshit. Who the fuck is she? Who took our main attraction—the dick slanger, pussy strangler, and ass banger—from us?! I wish I could cut tha bitch!”

  He grinned. Taz was just teasing, but she truly did want answers.

  “All right. I’m busted. I’d prefer to keep the details to myself though, but just give me a little time and space, okay? You and I will always be cool, no matter what, and I am not saying you’ll never see me again, but uh, you know, I just gotta take care of this… an
d anything that interferes with what I am doing right now can’t be in the equation.”

  “You say take care of it like you are getting rid of a dead body.”

  “There’s definitely a body involved…”

  They both burst out laughing.

  “All right, Mr. Top Secret. She must be real special then for you to abandon ship like this. I’ll let the staff know.”

  “Cool. Thanks, baby.”

  “I better start trying to hunt down another Satyr, just in case.” She huffed. “But I have a feeling you’ll be back.”

  “First of all, you’ll never be able to find another Satyr like me. I’m one of a kind and can’t be replaced. Secondly, why do you say that?” He adjusted his rearview mirror as a large truck came up behind him with its headlights on the brightest setting.

  “Because a man like you can’t be tied down. I asked you one time if you’d ever been married, considered it, or had dated someone for over six months exclusively, with no other pussy in the equation, and you laughed in my face.” He swallowed. “The idea of commitment to one woman makes your head explode. Those are your words. I remember them well because I was thinkin’ of making your fine ass mine. Unlike many of these women out here though, I was willing to share you. You’d never find a more agreeable lady than me, and I go both ways as you know, so if I find a man or woman sexy, I’m fuckin’ ’em. Point blank, period! So we could have threesomes, foursomes, all-the-time-somes up in this bitch, baby!” The woman was enjoying this, laughing and carrying on. She was such a trip. “I’m just messing with you. Well, sorta.”

  A note of sadness did creep in her tone though. She’s going to miss me being around. We’re friends. Good friends. I’ll miss Taz, too.

  “Good luck, Raze. Anyway, love, when you come to your senses, you know where the fuck we are. We’re family. You can always come back home.” She blew a loud kiss and disconnected the call.