A Brief History of Melvin, My Own Personal Bull

NIN ANDREWS 1. Little girls shouldn’t own bulls, Mom says, looking doubtfully at Melvin, a tiny and sickly calf, on the day he is born. But Dad says I’m special. Yes, he tells me, Melvin will be your own personal bull. I say, Hello Melvin. 2. I sleep in the barn, nursing Melvin back to health. Dad says I am learning responsibility. Mom says I need to take more baths and wash the dirt from behind my ears and under my fingernails. 3. There are thunderstorms all summer long. My parents fight. The farmhand quits. I dream of running away. I plan to wait until Melvin grows big. Then I’ll take a canteen of water, Mom’s Mastercard, and Melvin. I’m not sure where I’ll go, but I know I’ll be safe with my own personal bull by my side. 4. Melvin becomes a healthy calf. We play tag after school. I wave burlap bags in the air as if they are red flags. Melvin charges and chases me around the field, always stopping short in a cloud of dirt, rubbing his wet nose on my white blouse.   5. I write stories in which Melvin is the star. Melvin spears murderers and thieves with his horns. He outruns wolves and cop cars. When I grow tired, he lets me ride on his back. The teacher says, girls don’t ride bulls. The bulls don’t allow it. But she’s never met Melvin. 6. The farmhand complains that Melvin is dangerous. The vet agrees. He says little girls shouldn’t play with bulls. Dad worries. Mom says, I told you so.   7. I come home from a school camping trip, and Melvin is gone. My father says Melvin has been sent to another farm where there are other bulls and cows his own size for him to play with. My mother says, your father tells lies. 8. We eat steak night after night. What could be better than our very own, organic, home-grown Melvin? my mother asks, chewing happily and wiping the grease from her chin. They say that love makes meat rich and sweet. 9. My father pushes his plate away and turns white. Don’t talk to your food, he says, banging his fist on the table. My mother laughs and laughs. 10. Hello Melvin, I say again, stabbing a forkful of pink meat and holding it up to the light. Don’t you look lovely tonight? Then I take another bite. • • •     Subscribe>