“Well, I don’t know what kinds of books you’ve been reading…”
“Philosophy.”
“And those books told you these things that you’re telling me now?”
“Yes.”
“Oh son… I think you need to read different kinds of books.”
“Oh yeah? For example what? The bible?”
“For example.”
“Are you serious?”
“Of course.” He said it as though it was self-evident. “The bible has a lot of good advice in it.”
“Such as how to be a gullible fool?”
He furrowed his brow. “Have you read it?”
“I tried to, but I fell asleep. However, I did read The Satanic Bible, which was much better.”
He shook his head again. “Read the bible first before you criticize it.”
“In that case, perhaps you should read the books I’ve read before you criticize me. I’m sure The Conspiracy Against the Human Race, for instance, would be a real eye-opener. Or perhaps John Gray’s Straw Dogs for something a little lighter.”
“Son, I don’t need to read such nonsense.”
“Or perhaps you’re just afraid to. Because the things I’m saying make sense.”
To this he just shook his head once more. I guess he was at a loss for words. I had never presented my pessimistic views to him so directly before, even though he must have at least guessed that I wasn’t an optimist like him. If he ever thought about me at all, that is, for I doubted I ventured into his thoughts much. Anyway, screw him for sitting there and judging me, I thought. He was largely responsible for why I was the way I was. And I didn’t mean any of the good parts. If there even were any.
After I was done eating, I sat in silence for a while, drinking my beer and observing the idiotic sitcom in front of me. Like nearly all sitcoms, it revolved around family, a concept completely alien to me.
Observing me drink my beer, my father suddenly opened his mouth. “And I see you’ve become an alcoholic as well!” he said.
“I just like the taste.”
“But you’re already an alcoholic if you like the taste!”
“Oh really?” I said, downing the beer.
“A normal person will get drunk in order to celebrate,” he explained in his endless wisdom. “If you’re just drinking by yourself, you’re already an alcoholic.”
“If you say so,” I said, recalling an image from my childhood where I’d been at a party with him. During the party he had gotten extremely drunk and passed out on some random bed. Being around six years old at the time and not knowing what I should do at a party full of drunk adults, I went over to him and attempted to shake him awake but he only shoved me away and said, “Fuck off.”
“So how’s your mother doing?” he asked. He always asked the same questions.
“Fine, I guess. We don’t really talk much.”
“Why not?”
“Because she rarely invites me over.”
“I see. And what happened with your girlfriend?”
“She left me. That’s what happened.”
“Well, if she had to listen to the same things I just had to listen to then I’m not surprised.”
“Gee, thanks.” My father, sensitive as always.
We sat on the couch for a while, watching TV. How he was able to bear such a monotonous existence was beyond me. How could such a dissimilar person be my father? Once again, nurture one, nature zero.
“Well, I’m off to bed,” he eventually said, standing up from the couch as if our conversation just now hadn’t even happened. “The alarm is at five in the morning. Good night.” He walked out of the room.
I realized that coming there had been a mistake. I would have probably gotten the same amount of understanding from a random stranger in a bar as I did from my own father. Talking with him was futile. It was like beating your head against a brick wall. He was simple-minded and stuck to his ways. It was impossible to reason with him. And he was of no help whatsoever for my current mental state. I was all alone. Just like I had always been. Oh well. So be it.
I finished my beers whilst watching the vapid images on the TV in front of me.
I then drank some of the whiskey until I was tired enough to pass out.
18
In the morning I woke up as my father was stumbling around, inconsiderate as always. For some reason he had always been loud in the mornings even as others were sleeping. After he was finished, I got up and went to the bathroom to get ready.
We went downstairs and walked to his car. It seemed that every time I visited him he had a different car. Perhaps it had something to do with his love of poker. This time he had a van. When I asked him why he was driving around in a van, he said he liked to in case he needed to transport any large things. I looked in the back of the van; it was empty. Yeah, right, I thought. I bet he got the van from someone cheaply, perhaps even for free. Maybe a payback for a loan. It was just his endless optimism that managed to find a silver lining in every cloud. I mean, who the fuck wants to drive around in a large empty van?
We drove off. It was still dark and the streets were empty. After twenty minutes of listening to bad rock songs on the radio and not talking, we arrived at the harbor. He stopped the car in front of the terminal.
“Well,” he said. “I do hope you manage to solve those problems of yours. Remember, you can always call me or visit me if you need anything.”
“Right,” I said as I exited the car. Anything but understanding. “So long.”
He waved at me as he drove off. I didn’t wave back.
I walked inside the terminal building and went to the ticket office. I asked for a ticket for the next ferry to Tallinn. It was due in about an hour.
After buying the ticket, I went back out to have a cigarette. It was beginning to get light outside. I walked to the pier, observing the waves of the Baltic sea. I had always liked the sea. Right now, I would have liked to have drowned in it.
After I had finished my second cigarette, I went back inside. I sat down on a bench and took out my copy of Will O’ the Wisp. As always, the book was easily relatable:
“Yes, that’s true, he is very unhappy,” Praline went on. “It will all come to a bad end… but he won’t kill himself.”
“How do you know?” hissed Totote.
I read it slowly, deliberately, making sure that my mind registered each sentence, each word. After all, it might be the last book that I would ever read.
When I was about two thirds through, I put the book away. It was time to board the ferry.
I went to the gate, scanned my ticket, and walked onboard. The ship was much bigger than the one I had taken to Helsinki.
I headed to the bar. It was early as shit for a beer, but I didn’t care. It was getting increasingly difficult for me to care about anything at this point. Especially myself.
I sat down behind the counter and ordered a beer. A brunette lady who, despite her heavy makeup, seemed to be in her late thirties, was also sitting there, having a gin and tonic. Despite the early hours, she seemed to be drunk already.
“Hello there,” I said. “Fellow alcoholic.”
“Who, me?” she said, raising her eyebrows. “I’ve just been on a night out with my girlfriends. I actually live in Tallinn.”
“You were on a night out on a Monday?”
“Well, you see… it started on Saturday.”
“I see. Your stamina is quite impressive. Kind of a long way to go for a night out though, isn’t it?”
“Yes, well, although I live in Tallinn, I’m actually Finnish and most of my friends live in Finland.”
“Uh-huh.” I took a long sip of beer.