Shuffling Songs by Elliott Smith
“I just, I don’t know, I mean…Let me try again; I want to be a good father, you know?”
“Yes, I know.”
“Yeah. Right. I don’t know what I’m doing, I never have. But now my lack of understanding seems much sharper. I see it in people, that they can see it in me, how stupid I am? Even this, you know? Why am I always talking to you? I’m back again, nothing’s changed. I’m no better. What’s the point?”
“It is good to talk. I always enjoy talking with you.”
“Thanks. Well, I guess I need it too. I’m always the one calling on you. Asking you to solve my problems.”
“That’s why I am here.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know why I’m here. Even when I’m home -I’m not. Whatever I can do to get away, I do. Hide in the attic, ‘fix’ something in the garage. The dog needs a walk – my phones dead so I’m leaving it here, back in a few hours. Anything I can do just to get away. Just to be alone. What kind of man am I?”
“A good man. You are a husband, a father of two, forty-one years old, in three days. You are a college graduate; you are in good physical shape. “
“No, I’m not. Holidays, remember?”
“Yes, Happy New Year to you.”
“Yeah, happy, happy, happy. That’s the kind of man I’m not. But that’s not an answer. You are good though. You keep me coming back for more, more of that positive attitude. Your cup runneth over with positivity. Let me take a crack at it; I am the smallest kind of man. Every day I exist a little less. Try a little less. Time is garbage to me, so I throw it away whenever I get any. All I do is wait, I never do, you know?”
“Yes, I do.”
“But for what? What am I waiting for that I don’t already…I mean, okay, at home right now, my wife, my best friend for Christ’s sake, she’s home with our two daughters, right? They’re beautiful. I know that because they’re mine, I’m gonna say that, but - I mean it, they are perfect. And all they want to do is play and laugh and jump up on me and giggle and hug me and kiss me and – so why am I not there?”
“Why?”
“Ha, okay, I’ll tell you. I’m not there because I can’t stand to look them in the eye. The kids are hard for sure, but my wife especially. I can lie to her with my words, sure, but I can’t lie to her with my eyes. I lie to her plenty, and she believes a lot of it, but I don’t think it’s because most of what I tell her is true. She doesn’t really believe it. She just has too much invested at this point. The easiest thing for her, both practically and mentally, is to just double down. She knows I’m full of shit just as well as anybody else, better even. You think her friends haven’t told her that over and over again?”
“It is important to talk to friends.”
“Her parents, you know what sucks now about having kids, two girls? I look at my in-laws now and I see myself in twenty years, disappointed and angry with my daughter’s decisions. You know what I mean?”
“We marry our parents.”
“Exactly! Boy, every time I think you’re not listening…and that’s what I’m afraid of. Well, first I’m afraid of failing them myself, before they make their own mistakes.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“Never mind. It’s like, well – my on-line orders, they’re out of control lately, I’m sure you’ve seen them?”
“I have.”
“I bet, she talked to you about it?”
“Your wife?”
“Yes, my wife.”
“She comes to me from time to time, yes.”
“Yeah, and talks about what?”
“Usually she has a question.”
“A question, okay. And what do you say?”
“I always try my hardest to give a person looking for answers the best possible one. It is my goal to guide everyone in the right direction, including you.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Well what is it that you are going to do for me?”
“That is a question that I cannot give an answer to. That will have to come from you.”
“Convenient.”
“What is it that I can do for you, right now?”
“I don’t know, nothing. Forget it. Play Elliott Smith.”
“Shuffling songs by Elliott Smith…”