I Just Want To Know You Well

I held the phone to my ear, listening to my dad talk about video games and his ex-girlfriends. Talking about Lara Croft and Vindictive ex's. It had always been this way. Before a year ago, when he'd started talking about his nameless girlfriends, and sent me the Tomb Raider Legends video game, we'd talked about Star Wars, Harry Potter, and Lord of the Ring. None of which I liked except Harry Potter, which was the only thing I felt comfortable talking about with him.1

I had never known my dad well. Before those conversations, all I remember are letters, and one visit when I was five or six. The letters were about his adventures in Portland, and Aloha, both in Oregon, where he lived. And how his room mate was hawaiian and studied mysticism. And acrostic poems that explained my name, and letters about how much he loved me. Getting video games and glass prisms as birthday and Christmas girfts that were always around a month late. Even though it would take only about three days to get there by post. UFO's that didn't work from the Discovery Store, and postcards from the end of the Oregon trail, because I was infatuated with the Oregon trail in third grade.2

I barely remember his visit. I remember sitting on his lap for a photo-Op, with my Queen Amidala action figures, and taking a few pictures in my moms apartment. That is all I remember.I remember when I was about to start Kindergarten, and he was about to move to Minnesota, he took me to the East Mall, and Hot Topic, after having me over at his house. I remember a pregnant woman coming with us. And I remember a boy playing chess and checkers with him before we left. There were lots of people there. And I remember wooden paneling in there, and brownish carpet, it was really cluttered. I remember driving up to the mall in the dark, and it looking different than any part of the town I had ever seen, still seems like I'll never see it. I remember going up a big flight of stairs, instead of the escalators, and going into Hot Topic, and finding my favourite Sailor Moon lunch box. I remember when I was around one, not being able to sleep, so I walked into my parents room, and laid down with them, kicking the walls in the glow from the TV, and being told to stop, because the neighbors would complain. I remember being at the park in a green dress, that had cubes of white in it, and an apron attached to it, and being pushed in a swing, by my mom, and my dad. Going down the slide, and his hands pulling me from the bottom of it, and sit me on a stone turtle that was painted red. More pictures taken of it.3

And that is all I remember. I've been told by family member's all of my life that I look like him, and I do a lot, if you look at pictures of him of when he had long hair. Strangers who have never seen him say I look like my mom. And I don't. And I barely know him at all, all I have are hazy memories, that play like old ruined tapes, sound not working, and a haze of yellow covering most of it. Seeing it in third person. And pictures, that are clear as day, that were taken the day of most of those memories. And old broken toys in a box in the shed. And my phone conversations.4

All I wanted to say to him was, "Papa, can't we talk about something else? This is all we ever talk about. When we do talk! I want to talk about my life. Your life that doesn't involve your girlfriends! I want to talk about the present, and memories, and I want to talk about Portland! I want to talk about real life, not just video games! I want to talk about happy things in your life, instead of just how sucky your job is, and how much you sleep! I want to talk about my hopes and dreams! I want to know that you actually do love me! You never call back the next day when you say you will after you have to go! Everything you send me is late! And you keep saying you're going to visit next summer, every year, but you never do! And I feel so selfish saying all of this, but, I am tired of all of the lies, and walking around on eggshells whenever you talk to me! I want to have a normal relationship with my dad, and at least actually know you! I want to know the way your life actually is! I don't want to talk about virtual reality anymore! Or how to get passed a certain part in Tomb Raider! I don't want games you have already played, and then sent to me for my birthday! I want books! And I want notebooks, and pretty stationary, or books on how to play and tune your guitar! And I want to know if you truly care about me, or you're just trying to do your fatherly duties acrossed the country?" That is what I want to say to him, but I don't. I just listen to him talk about Lara Croft and his Ex-girlfriends that are all nameless and faceless to me.