"I'm miserable," she said.
"You are not."
"Am too."
"Why, pray tell?" he said.
"I just am. Isn't that enough."
"No. You need to let it out."
"Says who?"
"That's what they say."
"They do not. They are not miserable."
"I guess that's why they call it the blues..."
"Oh no."
"What?"
"You're going to quote song lyrics at me, aren't you."
"Am I blue? Blue for you?"
"Please stop."
"In the name of love?"
"No, in the name of all that's holy!"
"Once more, in the name of love."
"You know, if I could leave right now, I would."
"If you leave me now, you'll take a way the biggest part of me."
"Whoo, hoo, hoo... Okay, that was funny."
"I'm easy. Easy like Sunday morning."
"You're going to be dead. Dead like a door knob. You know, quoting lyrics is not wisdom. It's a substitute for wisdom. It's a substitute for thinking. It's a substitute for empathy. I need a little empathy here. I need a little understanding. It's not like you don't know why I'm miserable. It's not like you have no responsibility here."
"I will be you father figure..."
"I don't need a father figure. I need you. I need your mind. I need your heart. I need your soul. I need you to listen to me. Not to judge, not to joke. Not to see it as one more chance for you to show off how clever you are at coming with up vaguely appropriate song lyrics. I need you."
"I know..."
She stared at him for a long time in the silent dark. She thought back on their time together. How they met at the Simple Pleasures show. How they danced, slow and sexy. How his wit and humor dazzled, how his passion flared. And she recalled how she'd realized that this wit and charm and passion may well have been all there was to him, and that, maybe there was nothing left to learn, this was all there was, that if you scratched the surface of this man, all you'd find was...more surface. She sighed, and took his hand.
"...and what do you know?"
"...that it's only rock and roll..."
"And?"
"And I like it! Oh yeah!"
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1 comment:
that was pritty.....the essential billie blue.....
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