“The where is right here where we’re sittin’, buddy boy.”
If this were a movie, I guess that repetition of Red’s last statement would have been in his voice, but with plenty of reverb to signal that it was repeated “in my head.”
I’m still sitting in the metal folding chair in the conversation room. Both Red and his chair are gone, and there is no other furniture in the room at the moment.
As I glance down at the metal chair once more, I register the fact that I’m now being played by William H. Macy again. Was it when I blinked?
“The where is right here where we’re sittin’, buddy boy” [boy boy].
Okay, enough with the cheesy reverb!
I look up at the small balcony above the entry arch. I look over at the chandelier, and then at the fireplace, which is currently dark and cold. It occurs to me that the light in the room is coming from nowhere in particular. Outside the windows, it is overcast and everything looks damp, though it does not seem to be raining now.
I look at the floor around my chair again. Dark carpeting, with some kind of pattern that I cannot make distinct because the memory is so fuzzy. I think the color is somewhere around the brown to green vicinity, but it’s a long way from certain.
If the where is right here, then I don’t need to go somewhere, but I do need to see something, a what. Or grok it, or whatever. Wouldn’t it follow, then, that what I need to see is right here?
I’ve blinked several more times, and nothing has changed. Maybe…
I close my eyes (it’s alright) and wait for a moment. Once I sense his presence, I open my eyes. There’s Red again, chair and all. I’m pretty sure his posture is the same as when I blinked him away.
Then I’m struck by the first thing that actually feels like real progress: Macy has been replaced by Waits again.
It feels like real progress, I just said (uh… thought? …wrote, really). That doesn’t mean that I have any idea yet why it feels that way.
Red laughs. “Ya started seein’ it, but I don’t think I get to leave again until ya can start to say it.” He pretends to settle back in the chair again. “Let loose, Bruce!”
I don’t know what to say yet.
As if I had said it aloud, he responds: “You aren’t gonna know what to say until you start sayin’ it. That’s the way it works, mostly. It’s only rarely that we actually think something through before we say it. Thinking and saying are not fundamentally different actions.”
OK, so I don’t know how to start saying yet.
Red seems content to wait again, so we do. This time I suspect that it will be longer. We’ll see.