down. What a crazy-assed thing to do. That’s my girl. That’s a Dolan in action. No Seddley’s popping herself in the Trevi Fountain, strutting around, striking poses.
Excuse my bragging. I don’t experience the thrill of fatherhood often. Even when I think I’ve got my daughter to myself, a chance to have some fun, tweak her funny bone, Tay turns out to be lurking. Here’s a fact. When we go places, I drive and Tay and Snow ride in back. It started when Snow was a baby. Tay would buckle Snow in the car seat and stay there to “keep her company.” Why not, we weren’t going far. Snowy cried when Tay rode up front. Sad for the kid to cry, I agreed. It got to be habit or whatever you call it when a bad idea becomes status quo. If I’m in a good mood, I call myself the chauffeur. If not, I shut up and drive. My mom shakes her head every time we cruise over to her place. “This doesn’t make sense to me, Finn.”
The cigarettes. It boils down to that. If Tay rides in back,she’s less likely to smell them or detect stray bits of tobacco. So hey, I live with it.
Snow put on a show the tourists won’t forget.
What did those folks think if, say, they weren’t looking at the fountain and then glanced over and spied this innocent under the falls? Was it a miracle, a visitation, a mirage? An angel? A saint? I’m kidding. Kind of. I’m Catholic. I might have already mentioned that ’cause if you’re Catholic, is it ever fucking not on your mind? I eat guilt for breakfast. I’ll take life with a side of guilt—that’s a joke we cracked like once a month. What’s on the menu? Life with a side of guilt? I didn’t go to college but I did go to Sunday school. I know Oceanus wasn’t a Christian, and he is the dude presiding over the homoerotic festivities at the Trevi Fountain.
Naked men frolicking with horses. Who are we kidding? I don’t care, mind you, I’m only pointing out something that might not be in the guidebooks but anyone with half a brain could see.
“The grandest fountain in Rome,” said Tay.
Grander now that a Dolan’s been in it. Two Dolans.
Here’s how it happened in case you’re confused. You might be used to reading in order: first this, then this, then this. No problem. Michael was telling Snowy about a man who kills his kids and commits suicide. Why would anyone tell a child that story? Drunk doesn’t explain it. More like twisted. Sick. You take the measure of a man not when he’s sober but when he’s drunk. That’s when the uglies come out. He didn’t mean it, he was drunk. Bullshit, he meant it. I’m an expert on drinking.That makes me an expert on human nature. Later I’ll tell you my theories. I’ve got categories. Drinking’s a national pastime. It’s bigger than football and its culture is as fucked up, and that’s about as smart as I get. I can give you the lowdown on all the year-rounders who come to my joint just from clocking their booze consumption.
As I was saying, Michael was filling Snow’s head with nightmares. I was pissed but I wasn’t going to punch him. Maybe I should have. He’d crossed a line. A fight sometimes solves a dispute cleaner and quicker than words. You fight, it’s over. Take it outside. I say that now and then. A guy’s nose bleeds, he gets a shiner, big deal. A Dolan protects his own, but Lizzie looked miserable. When Lizzie’s upset, she’s like a cartoon character with zigzags in her eyes.
I couldn’t do it to Lizzie. Or to Taylor’s vacation.
Still, what’s a vacation if it doesn’t get crazy? All this civility, after you, shall we share, this relic or that, let’s toast. Let’s fight. It’s as good a route as any to magic memories.
This night was unforgettable. Snow snuck into the fountain, filling my heart with pride.
The second we were out, I heard Tay shout, “Run.”
I grabbed Snow’s hand. “Hold on, baby.” The crowd parted like the Red Sea. No one wanted to get wet and we were soaked. Nuts too, they
Excuse my bragging. I don’t experience the thrill of fatherhood often. Even when I think I’ve got my daughter to myself, a chance to have some fun, tweak her funny bone, Tay turns out to be lurking. Here’s a fact. When we go places, I drive and Tay and Snow ride in back. It started when Snow was a baby. Tay would buckle Snow in the car seat and stay there to “keep her company.” Why not, we weren’t going far. Snowy cried when Tay rode up front. Sad for the kid to cry, I agreed. It got to be habit or whatever you call it when a bad idea becomes status quo. If I’m in a good mood, I call myself the chauffeur. If not, I shut up and drive. My mom shakes her head every time we cruise over to her place. “This doesn’t make sense to me, Finn.”
The cigarettes. It boils down to that. If Tay rides in back,she’s less likely to smell them or detect stray bits of tobacco. So hey, I live with it.
Snow put on a show the tourists won’t forget.
What did those folks think if, say, they weren’t looking at the fountain and then glanced over and spied this innocent under the falls? Was it a miracle, a visitation, a mirage? An angel? A saint? I’m kidding. Kind of. I’m Catholic. I might have already mentioned that ’cause if you’re Catholic, is it ever fucking not on your mind? I eat guilt for breakfast. I’ll take life with a side of guilt—that’s a joke we cracked like once a month. What’s on the menu? Life with a side of guilt? I didn’t go to college but I did go to Sunday school. I know Oceanus wasn’t a Christian, and he is the dude presiding over the homoerotic festivities at the Trevi Fountain.
Naked men frolicking with horses. Who are we kidding? I don’t care, mind you, I’m only pointing out something that might not be in the guidebooks but anyone with half a brain could see.
“The grandest fountain in Rome,” said Tay.
Grander now that a Dolan’s been in it. Two Dolans.
Here’s how it happened in case you’re confused. You might be used to reading in order: first this, then this, then this. No problem. Michael was telling Snowy about a man who kills his kids and commits suicide. Why would anyone tell a child that story? Drunk doesn’t explain it. More like twisted. Sick. You take the measure of a man not when he’s sober but when he’s drunk. That’s when the uglies come out. He didn’t mean it, he was drunk. Bullshit, he meant it. I’m an expert on drinking.That makes me an expert on human nature. Later I’ll tell you my theories. I’ve got categories. Drinking’s a national pastime. It’s bigger than football and its culture is as fucked up, and that’s about as smart as I get. I can give you the lowdown on all the year-rounders who come to my joint just from clocking their booze consumption.
As I was saying, Michael was filling Snow’s head with nightmares. I was pissed but I wasn’t going to punch him. Maybe I should have. He’d crossed a line. A fight sometimes solves a dispute cleaner and quicker than words. You fight, it’s over. Take it outside. I say that now and then. A guy’s nose bleeds, he gets a shiner, big deal. A Dolan protects his own, but Lizzie looked miserable. When Lizzie’s upset, she’s like a cartoon character with zigzags in her eyes.
I couldn’t do it to Lizzie. Or to Taylor’s vacation.
Still, what’s a vacation if it doesn’t get crazy? All this civility, after you, shall we share, this relic or that, let’s toast. Let’s fight. It’s as good a route as any to magic memories.
This night was unforgettable. Snow snuck into the fountain, filling my heart with pride.
The second we were out, I heard Tay shout, “Run.”
I grabbed Snow’s hand. “Hold on, baby.” The crowd parted like the Red Sea. No one wanted to get wet and we were soaked. Nuts too, they
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