The Idea of Want
Food, water, shelter.
Ain't they the three things ya need t' stay alive?
Not really sure if I've got 'em in the right order, or hell, if there even is an order. For that matter, I first learned about that list way back in grade school, an' I haven't thought much about it up until now, for some reason. Twenty years puts kind of a distance 'tween yourself an' a memory, 'specially when they're twenty years you'd rather forget.
Food, water, shelter... I'm pretty sure that's it.
'Course, whoever made up that list never really took into account how much of them you'd need- most times, I've gone without one or the other for longer than I wanted to. Water you c'n get pretty much anywheres, thanks t' public drinkin' fountains. Shelter? Well, cardboard boxes n' old, condemned buildins' count.
It's the food that's a bitch.
All the boys tease me 'bout my eatin' habits. Yeah, I like junk food- who doesn't? That really ain't the point though... the point is that, well, it's what I know. Trash for trash, n' all that... but it's cheap. When you c'n git somethin' that'll fill your belly for less n' a dollar an' git you through the day, there ain't much of a point in buyin' a ten-dollar steak. Is there?
'Course, I do love the taste a' sugar. Food in soup kitchens ain't famous for its taste, but it takes care o' one need, even if mushy canned peas ain't what you want.
Want...
Shit, that word ain't had much of a place in my life since my Ma died. Y'know that sayin', 'y' can't always get what ya want?' When you end up sayin' 'y' can't always get what ya need', you know you got a problem- an' it's a problem you don't want. Hah... weird that you got this whole other thing you don't need- an' ya don't want it.
If you spend your whole life just tryin' t' find enough of the things ya need, 'want' ends up soundin' more like 'wish.' That damn nursery rhyme about wishin' on a star- most kids wish for ponies, for a trip to DisneyWorld, for somethin' they can damn well live without. But you... you do that for a jacket that ain't got a hole in the sleeve, or jeans that don't end halfway up your legs. Simple things, somethin' almost every other kid in your school can get, but they're just as far away for you as that godfuckingdamn star you wished on last night.
Don't help that, out in rural Texas, the air's pretty dry an' there ain't a big city for miles. Sittin' out under an overpass at night... ain't no way you could count all them stars, even if ya was in the fifth grade, like you were s'poseta be. Whole shitloads a' stars t' wish on, an' all of 'em too damn far away t' make much of a difference.
Or maybe, 'cause they're so far away, there's some sorta delay, like with a mail-order catalogue. J.D. was goin' on about this physics book th' other day, talkin' about light-years an' how we're actually seein' light that some star produced 15,000 years ago- it just took 15,000 years for it to reach us. Maybe wishes work the same way, an' it took the stars twenty years t' receive an' process mine.
'Course, with Federal Express an' all that stuff, you'd figure they would've taken a little less time...
Damn it... where was I?
Oh, yeah- want.
When I think about it, sometimes I can't hardly believe my life. I mean, I'm doin' somethin' I love in a great city (an' I'm not a big fan of them things in general), an' even better... I'm doin' it with six other guys I'm proud t' call my friends. First friends I've had in a while- friends 'cause, well... I don't know why they're my friends. It just happened one day.
Yeah, things are damned good... an' I didn't ask for any of it. Call it Fate or luck, maybe. Josiah might call it God, but whatever it is, guess it finally decided to look kindly on Vin Tanner.
So when I start thinkin' about what I want... shit, I can't let myself think about it, 'cause then it comes to pass that Fate/luck/God decides it's Fuck With Vin Tanner Time again. They seem t' like playin' that game, 'specially right when I think I've gotten my shit together.
'Specially when it's somethin' I can't have, an' ain't got no business wantin'.
If'n ya know me pretty well- chances are you'd haveta be Ezra, Buck, J.D., Nathan, Josiah, Nettie, or Chris t' know me- you'd know what I want. Hell, I'm pretty sure I've kept it hidden so well not even Ez can weasel it outta me with them damn eyes a' his. Goddamn undercover agent.
Well, it ain't him I'm thinkin' about, or wantin'.
I want Chris.
By now, I'm pretty sure you've figured out I don't mean 'want' as in the 'friends' sense. This bein' the twentieth century n' all, you have to have a pretty good idea about what I'm drivin' at. If you see Chris Larabee for yourself, well, that'd just about wrap the case up. Yeah, he's a good lookin' man an' all... but there's somethin' else in him I want.
Yeah, want. An' need. There are times when you can't really separate the two.
Everyone goes on an' on about 'Damn, lookit Vin Tanner. He's so cool, so calm, so goddamn collected under pressure, sittin' up on his perch just sittin' still like a gargoyle, waitin' to blow some bad cocksucker's head off.' They say that- if you ain't observed a Team Seven bust when we got other teams backin' us up, you can hear 'em say it.
'S true- if you ain't calm an' focused, you're a dead sniper. If'n ya can't keep your head, there ain't no way t' make anyone else lose theirs- nine hundred yards with a crosswind ain't exactly forgivin' of a man with nerves of Jell-O. Just somethin' ya learn, or maybe it's born in ya an' it takes goin' t' sniper school at Fort Benning t' bring it out.
Anyway, those people that say shit like that? They probably have no idea what the term 'poker face' means. Most a' the time, when things start goin' too well- so well it's spooky- I'm a mess a' nerves. Times like that I think about drugs- ain't there some new anti-anxiety drug for people who have trouble in social situations? Stuff like that... make things easier. That's chickenshit, though, but oh Lord... my stomach knots whenever I think about wantin'....
See, when ya start wantin', things start gettin' fucked up for ya. Whole shitloads a' complications start comin' up an' pretty soon, that lil' thing you thought you wanted, it's been hidden by these huge mountains a' what Other People Want an' Why What You Want Just Can't Be Gotten.
I've had that line from social workers, an' swallowed the hook an' sinker, too.
Not t' mention how my wantin' Chris... that'll take away the friends I need.
An' sweet Lord do I need 'em. They kinda grow on ya, into ya, until ya just can't git away from it, an' they become every bit as important to ya as your lungs or legs.
An' Chris? He's damn near become my heart.
Can't live without your heart.
Maybe I can live with the idea, though. Maybe just wantin'll be enough. Love ain't a jacket or pair a' pants- ain't somethin' physical until ya start jerkin' off an' tryin' t' imagine it's someone else touchin' ya, not your own hand. Even then, when ya see green eyes dark with passion an' blond hair that shines pale gold in the track lightin' above your shower... maybe that's lust.
Sorta hard t' square love with somethin' as empty as masturbatin'. ; Shit. Afterward, you're just left leanin' against the wall, starin' at either your reflection in the mirror or nothin' at all, an' not thinkin'.
Love... like I said, it ain't physical- 'least, it ain't never been that way for me, so far's I can remember. It's more of an.. idea.
An idea... yeah, best it remain that way, 'cause the idea of want, of love... scares the hell out of me.
If'n ya don't mind, I'll keep it that way for a while, an' hope it'll be enough.
END
Companion story: The Idea of Need