|
I don't
understand it at all, and I really wonder if it's just me who's wired
wrong, or if it's everyone else too. But I think it would be really comforting to know that
everybody in the world has such an utter self-loathing part of them that
they would really self-destruct if given the chance.
And so I say
something. I ruin it all,
"What really hurts is that you know this is a problem I have, and
you're refusing to discuss any kind of compromise." I say.
So there. Nyah nyah
nyah. "Compromise? What
the fuck?! What kind of
compromise do you want? Syllables?"
"Just
forget it," I say, and
yes, those are the last words spoken for the next hour and a half.
I swear, he must've gone through some kind of endurance training
when he was a kid. He went to Silent Camp.
They sit you in the corner for eighteen hours a day and blare
lots of loud music, or throw garbage at you and if you make one peep,
you have to walk a mile over hot coals and if you make any kind of sound
THEN, then you have to swim across the lake carrying ten pounds of beans
on your back or something. |
|
Yes,
young grasshopper, he has been schooled well in the silence
arts. I have been
schooled well in the stupid arts. I graduated magna cum laude.
We
get home, and it's just like all the other times. I grab my bag, hop out, slam the door and head for the house
without looking back as I hear the car drive away. Without a word. From
either him or me. What
a great day. What a
fucking great life to come back to.
|