Theme week 5: narrative, story

My Father's Fall
My stepmother was dead for only three months, before we all heard about the new woman in my father's life. We had gathered for a family Easter dinner; my father sat at the head of the table, the grand patriarch, with his children, step-children and grand-children gathered around. As the meal came to a close and the grandchildren went off to lay, he reached for a cigarette. " So, let me tell you about Susan. I met her while in line at the Super G. I noticed her melons (not the fruit we all decided) and commented on her groceries. We got to talking, and then I invited her to go for a cup of coffee. She said yes, and we went. She told me all about her life; she's divorced and is trying to raise two kids all by herself" Not at all unlike his daughter, me, I noticed, but he didn't. He looked over at me, "her son is about Ben's age, but he gets in trouble all the time, maybe you could talk to her." I didn't think I wanted to. Her story was a hard luck-let me cry on your shoulder mister sugar daddy-story. She'd been abused, her ex-husband beat her, and she was working real hard at beating a cocaine habit. She went daily to the methadone clinic in Willimantic. Oh boy, we all thought, she sure had our father raked in. How could we get him to realize that she was not the kind of woman that had love on her mind, but rather, "what can I get out of this man?"

It was another three months before any of us met her. I had brought my children down fro a long weekend. On Sunday morning my father said "Let's have breakfast with Susan and her kids." I tried backing out, but he said he had already told her we were coming. I should have known he would choose me as the envoy into the family. After all, I was the youngest, had been the one to do the token Father weekends after my parents divorced and the first to meet his ex-secretary in her new role as wide, and stepmother to us.

We drove to Susan's trailer park home. She had us wait on the deck; when they came out, I was taken aback. Her children were the same age as mine, but they were city tough. The boy had dark hair, a pierced ear and wore those baggy pants that had just become the rage; the ones where you could hide a shotgun if you needed to. The girl had lusterless black hair, and wore gothic attire with some chains for added effect. I don't think either one spoke the entire time. My blond country bumpkin children were no match for those two, and I certainly wasn't going to encourage any conversation. Susan had hair the texture of an unkempt horse mane, stiff and bristly from too many dyings and permings. Though my father said she was ten years younger than me she looked older and hard. I immediately saw my father's attraction; her bust was at least a quadruple D. I wished I had brought my own car, I would not have continued with the charade if I had been able to run. Off to the restaurant, in silence. Well, my father did try to keep a conversation going.

We arrived just as the after church rush was on, and there were no tables available for seven, so we waited. Susan grew impatient, thrust her chest out and demanded that the hostess push tow tables together. The hostess did, begrudgingly. I flashed a humble apology and the hostess registered a smile. While we were eating, my father elaborated on all the wonderful plans he had for his "new family". "I bought a house on Coventry Lake, that I am fixing up for Susan and the kids. I'm going to get another sailboat too and teach Brian to sail. Every boy should learn how to sail." At that I ranted, "Oh really Dad. When are you going to teach your grandson how to sail? You could come up and teach him anytime." He didn't notice the incongruity, was I totally off the mark?

During the conversation, I couldn't help noticing Brian bending the silverware in two. He eventually made a holder out of the spoon, poured packets of sugar into it and began to stick his finger into the sugar to eat it. I wondered if he had watched some drug use at home. The girl just sulked. My children talked between themselves and snuck some apprehensive glances at the scene ate the table. Breakfast wasn't over fast enough for me.

That night, after my children went to bed, I attempted to talk to my father. "Dad, that woman is using you. She probably has a boyfriend somewhere that you don't know about. She's getting whatever she wants from you." Since when did a daughter have to tell her father who to date?

During the course of the summer, she crashed and wrecked two cars. He bought her new ones. Her children were always needing to go to the doctor or needing prescriptions filled an midnight, and she always got money out of him. We kept trying to tell him he was being used, but he was too bewitched.

Less than a year later, my sister got a call from our father. He was crying; Susan had left him. My sister and I arranged to go see him that weekend. We found him in that beautiful home he bought all alone. Somehow, Susan had gotten an antique dealer to come buy some of his antiques. All he had left was one broken dresser, a few paintings, and the broken rocker that he was sitting in. The worst of it was he was so immobilized: while she had sun off with his savings, he was unable to look beyond the humiliation of losing his girlfriend.