\ publicly supported angst

i keep wondering if it will work out, or linger along. alex got cited by our community association for running a stop sign, and we fought it for months and had a final appeal set for last sunday, with my mom agreeing to come over and baby sit, but my dad had made a remark along the lines of why don't we just pay it, and this is that barrier that i know will never be crossed, a trivial, petty, pointless chasm between people who have more than likely forced whatever outward affection is shown because of what? appearances? the will of god? i often wonder what goes on through their heads, their fierce dedication to church and helping others, so at odds with their actions. they have never believed us when we speak, hold on to such bizarre notions that we must be lying. and sometimes these surface in the most unusual ways.

i remember once, he took me hunting, and it was strange to go hunting with him because we did so little together. and although he did this as a child, hunting and fishing were MY own escapes, and throughout high school i was usually out in the woods, carrying my shotgun or tackle box. but this one time, he wanted to take me, and it seemed strange because he grew up out west, and in the open prairies, they would hunt mule deer by roaming through the hills, but in missouri, we would set up in tree stands, stay solitary for hours in the freezing cold. i wandered over a hill and found a spot at the base of a sycamore tree, pulled my hat over my eyes and went to sleep. i woke up a couple hours later and saw a small doe around 30 yards out, following the path of a ravine. i set the sights on her, but the air was full of gunshots at that moment, a couple hunters from iowa on the other hillside squeezed their rounds off first, missing completely.

i mentioned the other hunters, and didn't think anything of it for years, until not long ago, when he brought this story up and told me he knew that i had lied. that when he was a kid, when he saw his first deer, he froze. he was overcome by some sort of fear that is alien to me, and i think maybe he was hoping we could bond on this one point. oh good god.

now is when i'm freezing up, across from them at a party celebrating alex's mom on the occasion of her 60th odd birthday. i imagine that they know i have had it and we're putting the house up for sale and i'm going to look for a job a thousand thousand miles away. i am giving up on any family other than my own. i don't like this, it affects my run, now, i remember worthless details when things go poorly between us, and i am ready to let go. not to heal, just let go. i know it's not a healthy approach, but i also drink too much and oh-so-other-unmentionables, so at least i'm consistent, if anything. i am getting so much faster these days, it's scary. i might run right on through the appalachians and sink way out in the atlantic.

they are trying to get me to rejoin the fire department. i think they forget how we struggled there, how utterly humiliating it was to fight them in tax-supported buildings and tax-supported ambulances and tax-supported uniforms, and oh my god, could we possibly air all this out in public? oh wait, not only is this drama public, it is publicly supported with your tax dollars. we are being underwritten by the government to hash out our differences. ugh.

”well,” i say, “i just don't have the time anymore. i've got a couple of big projects, and whatever free time i have, i need to spend with the kids. if i start going on calls, it's just gonna be less time with them down at the lake.”

”i know. you're such a better parent than we ever were.”

”oh, god, you know that's not what i meant AT ALL.”

and it's not, but people don't just start believing in you after all these years.

they bought me some west point buttons, once, wanted me to carry on a family tradition, and i don't remember what i said to get out of it, but i admit i may have in fact been lying then. i've got to keep them on their toes, let them be right some of the time.