You Know?

“I watched this movie, you know…”

 

I’ve come to realize that “you know” is anyone within listening distance.  Sometimes, “you know” is his Dad.  More often than not, it’s me.

We’re in a car.  My son is strapped in on the right side of the backseat.  Occasionally, his breath bends around the headrest into my hair.  He balances a cardboard tray of medium-sized sodas on his thigh pads.  We stopped for burgers after the game.

 

“And this guy was in college.  And he made, like, really good grades, and he was the captain of the football team, and he killed himself.”

 

The smell of things fried in oil that had already fried many other things wafted up from the floorboard where the bag of burgers warmed the insides of both my ankles.  I remained silent while reaching down to make sure the top of the bag was folded closed.

 

“They tried to help him.  I mean, you know, he wasn’t acting like himself and his friends were like, “Hey are you ok?”, and he said yes, but they knew he was depressed so they tried to help, but it was too late, and he hung himself.”

 

The night is cool.  The windows are down.  He raises his voice in competition.

 

“They didn’t believe him, you know.”

 

Realizing he addressed me directly, I respond with an equally loud “Uh-huh..”

 

“They told him “Oh, you’ll be alright.”, and they, like, patted him on the back and stuff, and they just left him in his room, and then they found him and he had hung himself.”

 

I allow for several seconds of windy silence before speaking.

 

“That’s pretty common, actually.”, I begin.  “You take someone like Carlton, on your football team.  He’s a great student and a star athlete.  It’s hard to imagine he has any problems.”

 

“I was like that.”  The words come out in a rush.  He isn’t done yet.

 

“I was like that last year in basketball and baseball.  Everyone thinks you’re so great and you’re such a great player and they think you make really good grades and everything, and I was having a hard time.  And, I didn’t want to tell you ‘cause I knew you’d be disappointed and so I hid it all through Christmas.  And then, at Christmas, I got everything I wanted and more, and I felt so bad.  And, I was going to tell you then, but I couldn’t.  And then you got the report card, and you saw the C’s, and you, like, grounded me and stuff.”  He pauses, giving us both a chance to catch our breath.

 

“And you know the funny thing?  I was so glad!  I felt so much better when you did that, you know?”

 

Yeah, I know.

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