Theme Week # 9
I sat across the table from him listening to his voice trying to remember something about him, something I must have loved. The harder I tried, the more of a stranger he became.
Nothing in his hands, his eyes, or his face; nothing was me. Fifteen years of "Who am I?" replaced with the reality of not knowing who he was and not wanting to yet, I sat and listened. I listened to him talk about his life, and family sounding as though he were rehearsing an interview for a job he knew he'd never get...and never really wanted. The careful placement of words and the avoidance of others, kept the distance between all of us. A distance comfortable with excuses.
He lifted his mug to his lips and I watched my mother's face. As he tilted it back, I remembered. I remembered not who he was but who he wasn't, and why. She looked at me the way she used to believing somehow her eyes were erasers but I always knew.
We left the restaurant and walked to our cars. The moment of goodbye was awkward. My brother and sisters stumbled for their words while he dug deep for the right ones to say. I did what he wanted to and what I remembered most about him; I walked away.
Nothing in his hands, his eyes, or his face; nothing was me. Fifteen years of "Who am I?" replaced with the reality of not knowing who he was and not wanting to yet, I sat and listened. I listened to him talk about his life, and family sounding as though he were rehearsing an interview for a job he knew he'd never get...and never really wanted. The careful placement of words and the avoidance of others, kept the distance between all of us. A distance comfortable with excuses.
He lifted his mug to his lips and I watched my mother's face. As he tilted it back, I remembered. I remembered not who he was but who he wasn't, and why. She looked at me the way she used to believing somehow her eyes were erasers but I always knew.
We left the restaurant and walked to our cars. The moment of goodbye was awkward. My brother and sisters stumbled for their words while he dug deep for the right ones to say. I did what he wanted to and what I remembered most about him; I walked away.
posted by Mainer at 1:04 PM
2 Comments:
Talking to my daughter on the phone tonight, she was pretty funny: the guy she met in Paris who she was emailing until she got an email from (she didn't know) his wife; the guy she met on the plane to Boston who kept talking about what a babe this one or that one was coming into the bar; and the endless tales of her old time-used-to-be's idiocy.
As usual, she ended by saying all men just were no damn good, not a one of them. The missus on the extension suggested she try women for a change of pace. Laughter all around.
Here's why I mention it. The daughter doesn't really think men are all no damn good (she's still looking for Mr. Right), but she is not nearly as funny as when she assumes that man-hating mask for a while. Your topic, which you return to over and over, has a similar theme, one which you may not believe completely in daylight, but which when taken aboard temporarily gives you the magic power to write a piece like this.
I'd guess it took a few minutes to write the first draft--it came fast once you knew what you were going to write about--but then took forever to get the tone jsut where you wanted it. It reads that way to me, anyway.
Darlene, I wouldn't dream of commenting directly on a piece as perfect as this, one where you have the dance of a thousand veils working so gracefully, especially not in a week devoted to the indirect.
I'd guess it took a few minutes to write the first draft--it came fast once you knew what you were going to write about--but then took forever to get the tone jsut where you wanted it. It reads that way to me, anyway.
You are good.
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