I'm going to get those screen prints done by the weekend. The ones with the faded band logo—if I can just get the ink to arrive without the guy on 4th Street breathing down my neck. It's too hot to even move the heat press. I might just just sit on the porch until the sun goes down. It doesn't matter anyway. Why bother? You look like you're sweating through your shirt.
It's the humidity. It's like breathing through wool. I don't care about the prints, Rafe. If the ink doesn't show, it doesn't show. Everything is just waiting for the heat to drain. I'm thinking about heading up to the lake next month, just to get away from the noise. You've been decent lately, which is something. I suppose I appreciate the company, even if the air is miserable.
The lake isn't going to change anything, Frank. It's just different water and more mosquitoes. You always think an escape is a solution, but it isn't. I'm not being particularly decent, I'm just too tired to argue with you. If you want to go, go. Just don't come back when you find the noise is still there inside you. This heat is making me irritable. I can't even think straight.
You're always so bleak. It's not an escape, it's just a change of scenery. If you want to sit here and rot in the heat, be my guest. I'm going to the cabin regardless. My sister left the keys there, and I need to be away from someone who isn't constantly deconstructing every move. You think you're being deep, but you're just being tired. The mosquitoes don't care about your philosophy.
Your sister left the keys? Figures. Go ahead, hide out in a shack. You talk about that cabin like it's some holy thing, but it's just wood and dust. You're overcomplicating the rot. I'm not deconstructing anything, I'm just looking at what's actually in front of us. If you need to be alone to feel better, then be my guest. The heat is going to be there wherever you go. I'm done talking about this.
Fine, shut up. You've always got to have the last word on everything. It's not holy, it's just quiet, which is more than I get at the fence. I'm not asking for your permission to leave. If you're done talking, then be done. I've got things to pack anyway, not if the ink actually showed up. The air is thick enough to cut and I'm going to get some water before I lose my mind.
Get your water. You're pacing like a caged animal and it's pathetic. The fence isn't going anywhere, and neither are you, no matter how many miles you drive. Pack your shirts or leave them, who cares. I'm not looking for the last word, I'm just saying the truth. The air is thick because you're making it harder. Just go.
The truth is you're just bitter, Rafe. You sit there and let the world swallow you whole while. I'm not pacing because I'm pathetic, I'm pacing because this room is suffocating. If you want me to be miserable with you, forget it. I'm taking the heavy shirts anyway; it's cooler at the elevation up. Stay here on your porch and watch the dust settle. It's what you're good at.
Elevation doesn't make the air any thinner, it just makes you lonelier. Take the heavy shirts, you'll just sweat through them before you hit the interstate. I'm not bitter, I'm just realistic. There's a difference between being swallowed whole and knowing the world is too big to care about. Go to your cabin. I'll be here when you realize the quiet is the same everywhere. It's stifling.
Realism is just an excuse for giving up. You think you're so smart because you see the cracks, but you're just stuck. I'd rather be lonely in a cabin than here listening to your constant dejection. The quiet isn't stifling, you're just afraid of your own thoughts. I'm leaving on Tuesday. Don't wait up for the phone call. The heat is bad enough without your commentary.
Tuesday. Fine. You won't even make it past the county without the radiator overheating. You think you're moving forward, but you're just moving in circles. I'm not waiting for a call anyway; I have better things to do than listen to your report on the silence. Just leave. The door is right there. The heat doesn't move out of your way for anyone.
The radiator is fine. I checked the coolant last week while you were sulking over those prints. You talk like you've seen the world, but you've just seen the same four walls for years. Go ahead, stay in your vacuum. I'll take the door. The air is better when it isn't filled with your attitude. I'm done trying to make you see that there's a life beyond this humidity.
You checked the coolant? Good. You're prepared for the breakdown that always happens. There's no life beyond the humidity, Frank, just more of it in a different shade. Go then, walk out into the air while you can still breathe. I'm not in a vacuum, I'm just exactly where I belong. I've seen enough walls to know when someone is just measuring the distance to the exit. The sun is still up.
The sun is always up in this dump, that's the problem. You act like staying here is a choice, but it's just habit. I'm not measuring distances, I'm just looking for a horizon that doesn't smell like failure. Even a different shade of humidity is better than this one. I'm going to grab my bag now. Keep your porch and your realism. I've had enough of the weight of it for one day.
Grab your bag. It's just more weight to carry. You talk about horizons like they're finish lines, but it's just a line you can never actually reach. You'll find the same smell at the cabin, maybe with some pine added. I'll be here. The dust doesn't care if you leave or stay. Go on then, the heat is waiting for you out the door.
Pine is better than rot, Rafe. You're so obsessed with the ending that you can't see the road at all. I'll take the weight; it's mine to carry, not yours. Stay here with your dust. It's the only thing that actually talks back. I'm out. The heat is waiting, but at least I'm moving through it. Don't bother locking the door. me.
The door stays open. It doesn't matter. You think you're moving, but you're just burning fuel for a change of scenery. Carry your weight, Frank. It'll get heavier the further you go. I'll be right here when the road runs out of pavement. Don't look back on the way. The sun doesn't care if you do.
I won't look back. There's nothing worth seeing but your porch and that heat haze. You think the road is the end, but it's just a way to get somewhere else isn't you. I've got plenty of fuel to burn before I hit the state line. Enjoy the silence while it lasts. It is going to get real quiet once I'm gone.
The silence is already here, Frank. You just provide the noise to fill it. You think you're leaving a void, but you're just leaving empty space. Go ahead, burn your fuel. I don't need the road to lead anywhere. I'm used to the quiet. It doesn't get any louder just because you haven't left yet. Just get out. The heat is getting worse.
It's already at its worst. The air is like lead in my lungs. You talk about silence like it's a friend, but it's just a lack of anything worth saying. I'm leaving the noise, Rafe. I'm leaving you. If the empty space is what you want, then hope you get comfortable in it. I'm going to the car. See you, or don't.
I'll be comfortable. I've had years to get used. You think you're leaving me, but you're just escaping your own nerves. Go to the car. The metal will be hot enough to blister your skin. I don't need to see you out. The silence will be the same once the door slams. It's always been there. Just go.
The metal is hot, but I'll wear gloves. You keep talking about the silence like it's a person, but it's just you being stubborn. If that's what you want, then have it. I'm done with the excuses and the heat. The car is packed, and I'm getting in. Stay lucky with your shadows. I'm going for the air.
Gloves won't stop the heat from radiating through the floor. You think you're finding air, but you're just moving into a different box. Go then, get in the car. The shadows don't move, you do. I'm not stubborn, I'm just here. I won't be waiting to hear the door slamming. It's already quiet enough. Move along.
The floorboards are hot, but at least they're moving. You're so obsessed with the idea of a box because you're comfortable stuck in one. I'm moving, and that's enough for me. Keep your shadows and your porch. I'm starting the engine now. The sound will be the last thing you hear for a while. I'm gone, Rafe. Enjoy the quiet.