Simply put, it was a bad day

I am not one to rely on horoscopes or follow astrology in general, but I will admit that my sign is most aptly prescribed to me. Taurus, the bull. That is the first thing you should know going forward. The second is that my father was a lawyer. And so, being a Taurus and the son of a lawyer, I inevitably became what my mom lovingly describes as bullheaded. Honestly, I have quite a genial nature and have always thought of myself as an affable person. But sometimes, a bull can only be a bull.

The day started out like any other. A relaxing morning with coffee and a delightful walk with the dog. That is when I should have stopped. I should have gone inside, kicked off my shoes and spent the rest of the day watching television or reading a book. How was I supposed to know that my lovely morning would turn into a terribly stormy afternoon?

I can look back at the whole thing now and laugh, it was certainly a point of hilarity within my circle of friends. But, at the time, I was made of stone, a chiseled face of fury, immortal and impenetrable.

And so, unaware of my imminent emotional turmoil and eager for a fun day, my wife, Mary, and I set out. The plan was simple, first we would head to the earth market, a massive store filled with wonderful items from all over the world. From beer made in France to glass chandeliers made in India. It was odd and delightful, and one could always find neat things for the home. As a newlywed and do-it-yourself couple, it was a wonderful place for inspiration and one-of-a-kind décors. After that we would grab a quick bite to eat, burgers if I remember correctly. Finally, we would hit the pet store before heading home.

I always looked forward to going to the pet store. My favorite had always been Inland Northwest Farm and Pet. It was a local affair, and there were always plenty of wonderful critters to meet. I loved it. That was, until my father’s girlfriend started working there. After that I avoided the place unless I knew she wasn’t working, and that sufficed. However, on this day, since we are only a block away and we did need pet food, we decided to take a chance.

Her name was Karen, yes, I know, go figure. I disliked Karen severely. My father was twenty plus years her senior and yes, my father was a grown man who can make his own decisions, but I disagreed with this decision so much that we butted heads over the issue many times. In the end, who was I to judge? It wasn’t like I hadn’t made any questionable decisions that I would later regret, despite his best advice. Yes, the age difference bothered me, but more than that was the fact that she was looking for a comfortable lifestyle with few responsibilities and my old man, the lawyer could provide that for her. Love played no part in it. Let me be perfectly clear here, what I am about to say may sound harsh, but every word is true and well deserved. This woman did not care about my father and her sons were crazy bastards who needed some serious help. The older child was usually with his father, but the younger shit head was always at my father’s house. A sixty-four-year-old man had to try and control a seven-year-old kid who wields anything sharp when he gets mad. A child who could barely form a sentence at five, is now telling adults to “fuck off bitch,” and his complete disrespect for women was abhorrent to me. Never in my life had I ever wanted to slap a child, until I met him. So, when I say that this lady was a bitch and her youngest child was an out-of-control monster, you can take that shit to the damn bank.

As we entered the store I saw Karen at the register, dammit. My only wish was that she’d take a break and I would luck out at the last moment. I walked to the back of the store where the dog food was kept and grabbed a bag, then I walked to the back counter where you could acquire all kinds of disgusting insects for all your reptile feeding needs.

“Two dozen medium crickets, please and thank you, Suzy.”

“Oh, hey Sam, yeah sure just a sec.”

Suzy grabbed a brown paper bag and set about gathering the doomed insects and quickly brought them back to the counter. And then, a curious statement left her lips. At first, I wasn’t sure I had heard her correctly. Surely, I hadn’t heard her correctly.

“Congratulations on the exciting news! Your dad and Karen getting married? That’s so wild!”

The bag of crickets fell to the ground, I am sure it was a comical sight, my slack jawed face staring ahead like I was seeing a nuclear explosion up close. And I could see from the look on her own face that she had just realized that she made a boo-boo. She had assumed I knew. And who could blame her? Surely, a father would tell his son that he had just gotten engaged.... right?

“I’m sorry,” she called as I slowly walked away.

I was in a daze as I slowly walked towards the cashier, towards her. It was like I was in a deep fog. Was this real?

Suzy had radioed ahead, and Karen wasted no time in launching into a nonstop chorus of apologies and excuses. I didn’t hear a word; I didn’t want to hear. The bull inside me was raging, it was tearing apart the China shop and looking for another. I walked to the car taking deep breaths and when I was inside, I lit a cigarette and took another deep breath. I had calmed down, but I was still deeply bothered. And deeply hurt.

I pulled out of the parking lot and started the journey home. Mary was silent in the seat next to me. She was also in shock, but I could tell she was more concerned for me. In silence I drove and in silence I smoked. It was the middle of February and it had snowed recently. The plows had been at work and the constant traffic had piled the slush between the lanes and in some places, it had to be a foot high. Impressive for slush. Suddenly, a massive pickup truck (the overcompensating for something kind of truck) sped past us in the left lane. As it passed, a mass of dirty, grimy slush showered our car and came through my half open window. From the top of my head down my chest and into my lap, I was drenched in slush, although it quickly melted and became sandy mud. My cigarette was still hanging out of my mouth, it was no longer lit and broken near the butt. Mary just started crying. I drove on in silence, not bothering with another smoke. What else could I do?

When I think back now, I am glad it happened. As that slush slammed into my face, the chill hit me like a kick in the ribs, and I realized that being angry and raging like a bull was surely not going to get me anywhere. To this day I fully support a good yell into the air for a little stress relief, but in that moment, I knew that in the end, it would all work out. And so, it did.

My father never married Karen. I still despised her and her offspring, and those feelings only intensified when my father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. In his last few months on this earth, this woman thought it was perfectly fine to bring her son to live at my father’s house. Dying, my father tried to be a father once again, and it was heartbreaking. I moved in to help, whatever little good it did. When my father died, he left her a rental house he had owned. Good for her, I guess. Finally, the day had come for our last farewell. Karen threw out the usual “we have to stay connected, okay?” and the obligatory “I know we both loved Carl so much.” I did not reciprocate. Instead, I said to her the only thing that was left for me to say.

“Fuck you, Karen.”

I’ve never seen her since.