The Satyr

by Tiana Laveen

  “No, tell me. I want to hear it.”

  “Well, you were always tempting fate. It was almost like sometimes, you had a death wish. I can’t remember exactly when it started, but you were a teenager. Your mother and I would talk about it. We couldn’t understand it. Like, why would ya do this or that, things that could get you really hurt, or worse, killed? Taking the car and driving over a hundred miles per hour, for example. It would be strange shit, out of the blue, and always something that could end your life. I didn’t pay enough attention at first, I guess. I was under a lot of stress with work, Nix. I had to take care of my wife, send my mother money in Long Island, and had four other mouths to feed. I drank too much, and just wanted to be left alone sometimes. Maybe that’s where you got it from, ya know?” Dad shrugged. “That isolation shit. I used to do that, too.”

  Dad spoke the words as if he’d just now realized the problem, as if the truth had just come and tapped him on the shoulder, then whispered in his ear.

  “Why did we butt heads? is the million-dollar question. I don’t have a concise answer for ya. But I can tell ya with certainty that I loved you then, and I love you now.”

  Nixon drew on his cigar and locked eyes with the man.

  “Dad, do you remember when Sammie died?”

  His father’s complexion deepened and he suddenly turned away, as if he couldn’t stomach the thought of it.

  “Yeah. How could I forget?” He slowly met his gaze once again.

  “That’s when that change happened in me. The change you spoke of, me tempting fate.”

  Dad seemed confused. “But why? I mean, yes, it was horrible, we all suffered. We still think about it. Sammie could have grown up and been a wonderful man, just like you, but why would that make you do some of the awful things you did?”

  He could see it now in Dad’s eyes, the truth he’d been glossing over.

  He really does think I was a freak. He just can’t bear to say it… Well, I can. It hurts him to know that he created someone like me, now that I am being completely honest with him and we are having this heart to heart. We’ve rarely spoken so candidly with one another. I figured it would be the same old, same old. Dad yelling and screaming, cursing me out, me hating him a bit, but loving him, too. This pattern has to stop. I realized that when he walked in here with his heart on his sleeve. I had to unburden myself. I had to tell this man why his son is such a rotten, fucked up, horrendous, vicious, monster… And how I’d go out in the streets, to sex clubs, everywhere I could think of to try to find the female version of me, but one who can control me in her own way, rein in my darkness.

  I have searched for so long, without realizing that is what I was looking for. I needed to meet a woman who could help me control it. One who could show me I could trust her, be myself with her, and she wouldn’t run. She’d understand me, in every sense of the word. She would have needed to experience hurt, just like I did, but not be ruined by it. She would have needed to experience loss. She would need to be able to handle all aspects of me and never let me get too far out of hand, but somehow convince me that I was in control still. When in reality she’d be the one who’d make me her footstool…

  She’d want me to release my pain in every thrust, every bite, every kiss, every orgasm… and she’d want to feel that complete release in body, mind, and spirit. And finally, I have met that person. I had to do that, get a handle on it, because control is my best talent. Having full control over myself, however, was an exhausting task. I am unable to be contained… except with love. I’d do anything for Yasmine. Sometimes, that sickens me when I really think about it, but I can’t help it. She has me… There’s no turning back.

  “Nixon! I’m waiting here.” Dad snapped his fingers. “You zoned out on me. I asked you why?” his father barked, jerking him out of his thoughts.

  “Why? Because Sammie’s death really messed me up.” Dad exhaled loudly. “I acted fine, but I wasn’t fine. Sammie was not just my cousin, but my best friend, Dad. We were so much alike.” His father nodded, agreeing. “I felt like I let him down. I didn’t want to think about it though, so I always kept busy. It was then that I realized that love hurts. It was a hard lesson, a warning. I never wanted to feel that type of pain again.”

  “There’s even more to this, isn’t there?”

  “Yeah. There is. I could feel, though you never said it outright to us, how hurt you were about the divorce between you and Ma. Honestly, Tonya and I were glad you two split because that meant finally, the arguing would stop. You both seemed happier afterwards, too, and that’s all I wanted. Then, as I got older, I started noticing how I avoided full commitment with women. Now, don’t misunderstand me, again, I never blamed you or Ma. You both tried your hardest and we all knew that. But, it wasn’t that I was afraid of getting married; I just didn’t want to love someone as deeply as you loved Ma, Dad. Because see, then that would open the door to the same hurt I experienced after Sammie died. I changed after that. I couldn’t afford to feel that again. I was convinced I wasn’t strong enough and realized I had to protect myself. I would get into these relationships, knowing I could never go beyond a certain point. I loved some of these women, Dad. God, believe me I did!” He threw up his hands. “But I never would let them get so close to me that there’d be no turning back. I absolutely refused. Now, after meeting Yasmine, I’ve allowed it to happen. I’ve allowed a woman to get close to me, so close that if she turns and leaves, it’ll rip my fucking heart out.”

  Dad sat up straighter and leaned forward, listening intently.

  “Do you know, this is almost symbolic?” Dad said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “See, I think I can compare it to drowning. You’re no longer in control once you’re in the water as Sammie was.”

  “That actually is a really good analogy. I guess you could say it was almost like I was drowning myself with him. A way to regain control. At least, at the time, that is how I saw it. I don’t like not being in control. It really upsets me when things happen that I can’t fix or change.”

  “You’ve always been that way, even before Sammie’s accident.” Dad smiled sadly.

  “I know, but the issue got amplified.” Nix steepled his hands and rested his chin on his fingertips. “Playing on what you said, you know, about the drowning, the rushing water can be deep. Depth is commitment.”

  “It is…”

  “No more surface level shit. I usually stayed on the bank of love where it was safe, like Sammie. I was afraid to love too much and go to the deep end. As I got older and started dating and everything, I figured I could heal that pain by fixing heartbroken people, women in particular. They wanted love, but if I could make them feel good in ways that other men couldn’t, it would compensate for that. Sometimes it did, but most of the time, it would make things worse. But I couldn’t stop because I enjoyed feeling that love from them, and not having to return it. They couldn’t help but feel that way towards me, because… I had done things to them no one else had, or could.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Nix took a deep breath and ran his hand across his face.

  “You know what, Dad? This is a lot to take in. Maybe we should talk about something more lighthearted, switch it up.”

  “Nah, I don’t want to switch it up. I’ve been waiting for this for years! Nix, do you know what this reminds me of? Remember when you were about eighteen? You and I used to have some great discussions. You were totally open to me. I knew everything about you that year, and then just like that…” Dad snapped his fingers, his eyes watering, “you closed yourself off to me again. That was one of the best years of my life. I really knew you! I knew my fuckin’ son!” He pounded his fist on the table. “You’re so fucking complicated, hard to read, but you came to me, you poured your soul out… talked about medical school, told me how you were still thinking about law school. You let me know who you were dating, showed me a picture of the girl and everything – shit you never d
id. I remember, she was a cutie with hazel eyes and long black hair.”

  “Jessica… She was Puerto Rican.” Her brother hated me.

  “Yeah, so you talked to me about your friends, about all types of shit. You shared your dreams with me. I miss that eighteen-year-old kid. It’s like, you let me in, then slammed the door in my fuckin’ face. It was the worst! I was really angry about that. I had no idea what triggered me getting locked out again. A couple years later I had to leave to take care of your grandmother. I moved back to Long Island…”

  “I stopped telling you stuff, Dad, because I could see how unhappy you were. I didn’t want to keep talking about my life thriving when you were barely surviving.” Dad was quiet for a spell, then a tear trickled down his face. Nix couldn’t believe his eyes. He’d only seen Dad cry one time in his life – at Grandma’s funeral. The old Marine sniffed and quickly wiped his face with the back of his hand.

  “You are my son!” he roared, shaking his hands. “I could be in fuckin’ quicksand, and I’d still want you to tell me about a great time you had at a party! I could be in the hospital dyin’, and I’d still want cha to tell me about a case you’d won, or how you’d met a gorgeous girl and she had the biggest, prettiest tits you’d ever seen!” Nixon burst out laughing, and his father followed suit. “I’m serious. Who gives uh shit, ya know?” He shrugged. “I want my kids to be happy, to be living good lives. So, I take it this all leads back to one person. The woman whose name I can’t say.”

  Nixon smiled. “Yeah, Yasmine.”

  “So, you met her, you liked her, and before you knew it you were in love. With all you’ve told me tonight, I am dumbfounded as to how she could have broken this curse you’ve been walking around with. What happened exactly?”

  Nixon shrugged.

  “It’s complicated, Dad, but in a nutshell, she had a problem. I had a solution. We met; I took care of it for her. Afterwards, I couldn’t get her outta my head. I’ve had great connections with other women, Dad, but this…” Nixon shook his head, “… this was different. She knew what I wanted. She responded the way I needed her to. She’s dope.” He took a deep breath. “I mean, me and this woman have discussions about everything. And we talk all night. We may be discussing the history of rock music, the government, Panama, racism, conspiracy theories or shit like mathematics, the best barbecue chicken recipe, and Egyptian hieroglyphics. I can literally bring up just about anything to this lady, and she knows something about it! That’s amazing! She works really hard. She’s a fuckin’ boss at her firm and does an excellent job. Her family is great. I’ve spoken briefly to her mother and to one of her sisters on the phone, and we plan to meet soon. Here’s the thing though: she’s been through some things, but it only made her stronger and let’s not forget, she’s fucking beautiful!”

  “Yeah.” Dad gave a sly smile. “She is really pretty, Nix.”

  Nixon took a sip of his wine.

  “Be honest.” He grinned. “Were you surprised my girlfriend is Black?”

  Dad hesitated for a moment before responding.

  “Nah, not really. I wasn’t sure what to expect, truthfully, but in my mind, I pictured a White woman, I guess. When I saw her, I wasn’t surprised or anything. I know my son as far as things like that. I knew she’d be beautiful, whatever race she was if you picked her.”

  “What do you mean you know your son as far as things like that?” Nixon sat back against a pillow, legs sprawled.

  “Nix, come the fuck on!”

  “What?”

  “You never brought a bunch of women home for your mother and me to meet, but when we were out, I would notice sometimes the women you’d stare at, and many times they were Black. It happened often,” he said. “We’d go out to eat and you’d zone in on some young Black waitress or customer. One time, in fact, we’d gone to the movies. You were in line buyin’ popcorn. You couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen years old. Anyway, Leo and I were waiting for ya with the tickets. I looked over to see what was taking so damn long, and there you were, staring at a Black girl and tryna get her attention. Like, really staring, and then ya waved your arm around. She was with a group of other teenage Black girls and you were flirting with her. You had no clue I’d seen it all. She and her friends started laughing and stuff. You walked up to her and I couldn’t hear what you were saying, but then I saw her take out a pen and write on a napkin. Obviously, it was her number.”

  I can’t believe he remembers that.

  “I mean, you looked at other girls, too, Nix. White, Asian whatever, but I noticed the Black ones, because well, that was kinda different, ya know? I never brought it up, and your mother and I never discussed it, either. I’m sure she noticed too, though. It wasn’t a big deal to me. People like what they like,” he said dismissively. “I don’t give uh shit what color Yasmine is. Hey! I got ’er name right!” They both burst out laughing then. “As long as she makes my son happy, and she treats him the way he should be treated, she’s got my vote.” After a pause, he added, arching a brow, “Is she a Christian?”

  “Dad, don’t start…”

  “What?! What is the big deal!”

  “Why don’t you ask your own damn wife if is she is a Christian?” Dad’s complexion deepened. “Or your friends, namely Marcus! The fuckin’ heroin addict!”

  “Crack… it was crack,” Dad said meekly. “And leave my fucking wife outta this, you disrespectful prick! I don’t give uh shit how old ya are, and that martial arts shit you do, I am a fuckin’ Marine and I will crush you like a grape!”

  Nixon grimaced.

  “Heroin, crack, ’shrooms, Ecstasy, PCP, LSD, crank, meth, who gives uh fuck. Marcus is a crackhead who takes advantage of you, takes your money, and you keep fucking with him because you were in the Marines with him and feel like ya owe him something. Only because he helped ya out one time and you’re lonely. Give him a fuckin’ religious survey, why don’t ya?”

  “You’re one to talk! Leo says you still smoke marijuana! The Mary Jane! Grass!”

  “The Mary Jane? Grass? Wow! Nice antiquated touch! Welcome to 1972!” Nixon chuckled. “Ya damn right I do, and it’s not illegal.”

  “Neither is fuckin’ a pig in the ass in some countries, but that doesn’t mean you should do it!” Dad barked.

  “I have a joint sometimes over the weekend. It calms me down, relaxes me; you can’t compare that to smoking crack. I don’t have to have it. I just enjoy it from time to time. That’s not my drug of choice.”

  “What is your drug of choice then? Alcohol, like me?! We all have one, Nix. You’re no better than anyone else, though you pretend to be! So spill it! What have you been doing?”

  “You want to know my drug of choice, Dad? Traveling. Learning new shit. Sex. Financial security. Those are my fuckin’ drugs of choice. Oh, I forgot one,” He held up his finger. “Winning cases! ’Cause ya damn right I’m a good attorney, just like you told Yasmine tonight. I’m fucking great at what I do. One of the best in town. My whole point is, before you tried to make this shit about weed, you need to be looking at your own life and who’s in it!”

  “Why in the hell do you always do this, Nix?”

  “Do what?”

  “Shut me out? You find something I say that you don’t like and blow up to end the conversation. You use it as an exit when you decide you wanna shut down again. As soon as I get close to ya, this happens. You say you didn’t want me staying here because we’d argue. Ya put me in a fancy hotel, you try to spend a few hours with me, and as soon as things don’t go your way, BOOM! You start a fire and walk out. Yeah, God is important to me and I’m not apologizing for it! My life doesn’t match my heart! I’m not perfect. Sue me, lawyer son of mine! And you need to cut Marcus some slack. He’s your godfather, for God’s sake. Marcus has had addiction problems most of his miserable life. The bastard is trying. He’s a mess, he knows it, Nix, but he is thinking about going into rehab again.”

  “I won’t lay off him until he lays
off you and stops askin’ you for money so that he can go and get high.”

  “He has a job now.” Dad’s face flushed in frustration.

  “I’m almost afraid to ask.” Nixon sucked his teeth. “Doing what?”

  “He, uh, he does movies…”

  “So, he does porn. Marcus does porn.” Nixon sighed. “You really expect me to believe that?”

  “It’s true! I’ve seen it! It’s like a whole subculture!” Dad stretched out his arms, his eyes wide. “‘Crack of the Bubble Ass, Vol.1,’ ‘Rock the Cock,’ ‘Pipe Piper,’ and ‘Dope Dick,’ just to name a few titles!” Nixon sat there trying his damnedest to not burst out laughing. “He even has sex with other crackheads and sells the videos online! It’s a thing, ya know. Makes decent money, too!”

  “Crackhead sex is a porn niche? Hmm, interesting. I had no idea.” Nixon was genuinely intrigued. “I should Google it, find out more.”

  “That’s your reaction? You don’t seem exactly alarmed or anything. Honestly, Nix, your response is worrisome.”

  “Why?” he said in a bland tone. “People are into all kinds of shit, Dad. You’ve been around long enough to know. Besides, we all have our kinks to one degree or another. As long as they both wanna do it, who cares? Addicts have sex, that’s nothin’ new. If he can get paid doin’ it instead of robbing somebody or taking advantage of my fucking father, then more power to him.”