They sat in my dad's Volvo in my parents' driveway in San Antonio, Texas. It was raining. With Sam, my father would offer wisdom that was far more demonstrative and thoughtful than any insights he had ever shared with me. And even as I understood that transitive properties were at work and that my father loved Sam for loving me, I felt there was a closeness between them that I would never know. ¶ My father was a workaholic. Quick to anger. By the time my husband came along, he'd softened. He'd become gentle. He laughed easily. He'd started indulging in that old-man habit of incessantly humming. The first time he met Sam, he hugged him. I was appalled. This was a man who shook my hand in greeting even after months of separation as though I were a business associate whose presence he merely endured.
In the car, my father told Sam how happy he had made him. He said that Sam and I would build our lives brick by brick with intention and love and that we had all the time in the world because we were not beholden to anyone’s happiness but our own.
As they got out, my father stopped Sam before they returned to the house. He held out a business card in both hands to denote respect, honor, mutual care. “Just so you know,” he warned, “she has a difficult character. Please give me a call if there are any issues.”
“She who? Me?” I’d cackled later when Sam gave me the lowdown. “So, what, he’s giving you a manufacturer’s warranty? Who does he think he is, AppleCare?”
“Can you imagine if I actually called him?” my husband has since mused at various points in our marriage. “And how you would react?”
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة July 1-14, 2024 من New York magazine.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك ? تسجيل الدخول
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة July 1-14, 2024 من New York magazine.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك? تسجيل الدخول
Trapped in Time
A woman relives the same day in a stunning Danish novel.
Polyphonic City
A SOFT, SHIMMERING beauty permeates the images of Mumbai that open Payal Kapadia's All We Imagine As Light. For all the nighttime bustle on display-the heave of people, the constant activity and chaos-Kapadia shoots with a flair for the illusory.
Lear at the Fountain of Youth
Kenneth Branagh's production is nipped, tucked, and facile.
A Belfast Lad Goes Home
After playing some iconic Americans, Anthony Boyle is a beloved IRA commander in a riveting new series about the Troubles.
The Pluck of the Irish
Artists from the Indiana-size island continue to dominate popular culture. Online, they've gained a rep as the \"good Europeans.\"
Houston's on Houston
The Corner Store is like an upscale chain for downtown scene-chasers.
A Brownstone That's Pink Inside
Artist Vivian Reiss's Murray Hill house of whimsy.
These Jeans Made Me Gay
The Citizens of Humanity Horseshoe pants complete my queer style.
Manic, STONED, Throttle, No Brakes
Less than six months after her Gagosian sölu show, the artist JAMIAN JULIANO-VILLAND lost her gallery and all her money and was preparing for an exhibition with two the biggest living American artists.
WHO EVER THOUGHT THAT BRIGHT PINK MEAT THAT LASTS FOR WEEKS WAS A GOOD IDEA?
Deli Meat Is Rotten