Killing Lulu's Father

M.A.G. 2002

I wanted to meet Lulu's parents but Lulu said no; it would kill her father. She wouldn't say how or why. "It will kill him," is all she would say. "Believe me."

Lulu wasn't to be believed about anything. I didn't really care one way or another about meeting her parents, but this had become a challenge. Was she hiding me from them, or them from me? "Trust me," She said.

"Hah!" I said. "How can I trust a woman who fakes orgasm?"

"This time I really mean it," She said, "and besides, sixty-four percent of American women fake orgasm."

"Sure,” I responded. "But they don't invent statistics."

Lulu was a writer and lived her life as she wrote. She faked it. She even faked her articles. She made everything up. Lulu specialized in HOW-TO articles for the newly single woman and did very little research and much creative writing. She was good. You've seen her articles. HOW TO SPOT A MOMMA'S BOY. . . THE 30-SECOND TEST TO TELL IF HE IS MR. RIGHT. . . TEN SIMPLE RULES FOR OFFICE ROMANCE.

Lulu spent her formative years growing up on the grounds of a state asylum for the criminally insane, where her father was the resident M.D. He had spent his first years out of medical school in a Nazi concentration camp and his adult life in this loony bin. He never recovered from his experiences in the camp or his obsession with Hermann Goering; the Nazi he claimed was the last person he saw before entering the cattle car. To hear Lulu tell about their life, her family and the patients were interchangeable. As things turned out, she made a real good case for this argument.

"I grew up having these patients as babysitters. Our cook was a sweet old lady who had two husbands and butchered them both, labeling their parts for her freezer." Lulu's eyes danced, as she continued. "I always had the feeling when the cook touched me, or looked at me, that thoughts of steaks and chops were going through her mind. My teachers were people who got messages from aliens through their dental fillings. These were the people that came to my birthday parties-not other little girls."

In listening to this I could never separate the fact from the fantasy and wanted more than ever to meet her parents. She said a meeting would kill her father. What could it be? Our age difference? My background? I decided to chance it and pushed Lulu incessantly for a meeting. After all, what did I have to lose?

Okay. For once in her life Lulu was telling the truth. How was I to know? Her parents were eating lunch at the Carnegie Deli when we arrived. It was not a chance meeting. Every Saturday they ate a late lunch there. Through the window Lulu spotted them, and pulling me by my hand, we cut the line and right up to them we walked. They were sitting at a table side by side with six other people whom they may or may not have known. You know how the Carnegie is. Fill all the seats all the time.

Lulu's father, barely looking up, saw me standing there, figured me for a waiter and ordered another Dr. Browns Cel-Ray, "But cold this time." Her mother recognizing Lulu, nodded, rolled her eyes and then stared at me. Her dad spooned a large helping of kasha varnishkas into his mouth and looked up.

"Hi Daddy.” Lulu smiled sweetly.

Without chewing, Lulu's father looked back and forth between us and finally settled on me, staring...his open mouth full of groats, disgusting under the best of circumstances. He grabbed his chest, muttered, "Forget the Dr. Browns," and fell face down into his plate of kasha varnishkas.

Lulu grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the Carnegie, whispering, "Let’s go before we have to help with the body." I was still dazed as we hurtled up Seventh towards Central Park. Finally yanking Lulu to a stop, I held her by her shoulders and looked at her. She tried her sweet smile on me and I let her go and continued walking.

"Told you," she said smugly as she caught up with me. "You never believe me, do you? You killed my father." Lulu stated matter-of-factly. "He'd still be alive if he just saw me and not you—but you insisted—you wouldn't believe me. You never believe me. My father had to die for your disbelief. Are you satisfied? Are you sat-is-fied?" Jumping in front of me, Lulu threw her arms around my neck and planted a deep wet kiss on my mouth.

Shaking her off, I continued on towards her apartment. I said nothing. She followed and acted more smug and self-righteous with every step.

"What really happened?" I asked her, stopping my walk and staring at her. Lulu took a step towards me and I held my hand up in the halt position.

"Isn't it obvious? You want to hear how you killed my father? You want to hear the story of how you killed Lulu's father?" She then leaned over as if to whisper in my ear and instead stuck her tongue in and then bit my ear lobe. "I want you,” she stage-whispered.

"Your father is lying face down in groats and you want to get laid?"

"You bet,” She said smiling and quickening her pace to keep up with me.

How, I wondered, did I ever get involved with such a woman? "I want to know what happened." Lulu began speaking quickly as if to keep up with our pace. "Do you remember about six months ago in the Village when a pack of senior citizens muscled us off the sidewalk so they could pass together and you asked didn’t that old broad smile and wink at you? And I said yeah, and you said that she appeared to glare at you and I said well, that's my mother for you. Then you wanted to know why after all of our time living together didn't I introduce you to my parents or even tell you they lived near the city and I said because the meeting would kill my father and you laughed in disbelief."

We entered her apartment building with Lulu still talking, and then the ritual silence descended uponus for the elevator ride as she grabbed my ass. Once the doors opened Lulu continued. "I tried to tell you then and you wouldn't listen. If only you would stop thinking of me as a liar, my father would be alive today." Lulu broke out into big fake sobs with big fake tears. "I'm almost an orphan because of you."

I hate this woman so much, I'm thinking, as I walk into the bedroom and pull my suitcase from her closet. Opening it on the bed I begin filling the side pockets with socks and handkerchiefs. As I packed, Lulu undressed. It was really more of a striptease than undress. She sat on the edge of the bed naked, flaunting, teasing and watching me.

"When my father was put on the train to the death camp, the last person he saw before they slid the train door closed was Hermann Goering. That memory has stayed with him and terrified him always. He would tell me, "I may forget many things in my life, but I'll never forget Goering's face that terrible day." Lulu got up and went to her closet. I looked up from packing. "What has all this to do with me?" I asked, trying to ignore her as she put on her black bra and panties.

"It was right after you and I had met at Club Med that it came to me." Lulu ignored my staring and continued. "Do you remember that group picture taken on the beach? They sent each of us a copy. I noticed how much the sun had bleached your hair and how Aryan you looked, especially standing next to me. Well, I had an idea. What if you and your family were part of a Nazi group hiding out in Club Med? What a perfect cover. I looked at the picture and then drew an arrow pointing to you—a big red arrow. Above the arrow I wrote, ‘Hermann Goering's Grandson’ and circled it in red."

I turned around from the closet my arms loaded with shirts, and Lulu was lying in my suitcase holding her arms out to me. I stood and stared. She continued as if nothing was wrong. "I then sent the picture to my father with a note telling him I had met you, Hermann Goering II, at a vacation club and you were just the most wonderful man. In the note I told him that you had explained just how misunderstood your grandfather was and things were not always what they seemed, etc."

I held my shirts and shook my head in disbelief.

Lulu got out of the suitcase and put on her black spiked three-inch heels and her SS arm band. "Put that stuff away!" I ordered her.

"You don't like this any more?" She taunted as she goose-stepped around the room. "That was my first letter ever to my father. I really wanted to hurt him and this fantasy seemed a perfect way to do it. Afterwards my mother wrote me to keep you away from him because my father said you were the spitting image of your grandfather, and if he ever saw you it would either kill him or he would kill you. He'd already had two heart attacks and probably wouldn't survive a third." I packed my shirts and slacks as she pulled a Nazi hat from the closet shelf. Planting it on her head she said, "For the past two years I've been sending him our pictures together and small notes always signed by Lulu and Hermann II. My mother said he cried when he got my last letter telling him that we had gotten married and were going to have a little Hermann the third." There wasn't much I could say to Lulu so I just threw the rest of my clothing in the suitcase, picked it up and headed for the door. She got there first and tried to hand me the general's hat and armband.

"Awaiting your orders, sir." Lulu grinned her wicked grin.

Pushing her out of the way I said, "Lulu, I don't look anything like Hermann Goering."

Lulu smiled sweetly. "Really now," she said.

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