...WIP more middle chapter...

...You know when you stare at something, and I mean the sort of stare where you feel like you're going blind, the sort of "here we are again in grade school and we're having the 'don't blink' contest with Sally out on the playground, because if you win, by GOD, she really will quit stealing your lunch money" stare down? When you stare at something until your vision goes fuzzy, because you can't focus on so many individual points, so like a camera, your eyes pin down whatever it is, to the exclusion of everything else? And then, because you just can't keep that up, your eyes toggle back and forth, and things go in and out of focus, and everything is at once backlit and highlighted, and you feel like vomiting, and at the same time, you think that maybe you just saw god, or whatever higher power you subscribe to, but you know, you just fucking know, that it's not "right". Like we're not "supposed" to see that. Because you can't STAY there, in that realm, your eyes, your brain, maybe even your soul won't let you. Maybe that IS your soul, connecting to other things out there. There's no way I buy that metaphysical crap, but that's what I'm selling today, it seems.

I'm sitting there again, at work on a Saturday, poring over the last chapter of Marvin's story. Pointing out the nitpicky shit that continues to assuage the people who fund our business. And I've got some old station tuned in on the tiny handheld radio that everyone hates. They both hate the station, and that the radio exists, just to cover any ambiguity. And Charlie Rich comes on, and it's like, jeeeeeeesus. That is one hurting white guy. Maybe the most soulful fella on Sun records ever, so I've been told. And the song just ends. That's the problem. Songs have these fade outs now, rather than just Charlie saying "and that's it". You hear him get up from the piano, and walk out in the street. I can see him, seriously, as he heads down the street, and I bet there's snow, because I guy like Charlie Rich is wrapped preternaturally in snowy weather. Black wool long coat, maybe even a hat, but probably not. He's going to meet a lady, at a table, somewhere. The dark grain of the wood under his hands, he's going to sit, staring at the girl, until he can't see straight, and then tomorrow, he'll come back to that piano, and he will bare his soul for another three minutes, and then walk away.

Charlie reminds me of Marvin, right at the end. He's losing it. He's never told Sue that he loves her, except in that way that he looks at her. And when he does, look at her, I mean, the author, who's so good at this--I have to quote it.

"Marvin looks up from the table, his right hand buried in the side of the corpse's head, his left hand holding the jaw, trying to ease everything into place, so that the moment the family sees this poor bastard, this letdown, this, the middle son, who never did a damn thing but cause heartache, and heartbreak, the moment they see him, they'll tear up, and they'll break down, and they'll realize what a bunch of goddamn fools they've been, because what he did, what he really did, was hold their broken family together. And by god, Marvin's going to show them that, because this funeral will be perfect. He looks up at the doorway, where Sue is standing, nervously leaning both in and out of the frame. And his eyes, just for a second, for the fraction of time that it takes for him to recognize her, light up like dancing fireflies in that children's book. He starts to speak, but the words are caught, caught up in what he's doing, and what he's done, and what he can't remember any more. She says, "I left you something up there on the counter" She turns to go. Looking back, smiling, to say "I never know what you're thinking when you look like that." The door swings shut behind her, and Marvin drifts back into his work. It will be perfect."

Stare at it until you go blind. It's either that, or you walk to her door, and you tell her, Marvin. But he doesn't. It's just like that Charlie Rich song, "and that's it". Book over, story done. Marvin drifts away. I realized I'm staring out the window, staring at that same tree, cradling us, remember? And everything's fuzzy, and I can't tell which part I'm looking at, and somebody crosses my field of vision, and it's gone. And I smell something subtly sweet, and I know, turning back to my computer and the final page, and drift back into my work.