I Don't Even Know

Sunday twilight deepens as the car moves farther south. The man is driving his 10-year-old son home from dinner with the family. As all parents do, the man wishes to pass down some cultural interests to his child. So he has made a playlist of some music he likes, mostly older stuff. 

“Hungry Like the Wolf” by Duran Duran plays. “You ever heard this song?” the man says to his son. “I was younger than you were when this came out.”

“No,” the child says.

The man furrows his brow. He’s really never heard this song? Maybe he should be more forgiving. After all, it was 35 years ago. After a few miles, the groovy bassline and anguished lyrics of “Billie Jean” start to play.

“So this is Michael Jackson. He was huge when I was your age. You ever hear any of his music?”

The child considers it, then goes back to his tablet. “I don’t even know.”

Really? Not even Michael Jackson rings a bell? But he was so huge for so long. Well, I guess he did die when my son was just a baby, the man thinks. Farther down the road, another 1983 classic plays.

“This is called ‘Let’s Dance’ by David Bowie,” the father says. “Your dad and I really like him. You know him?”

In the rearview mirror, he can see his son shrug. Wow. The hits just keep on coming.

Then, another stone-cold classic. Over a burst of synthesizers and electric guitar, Prince sings about his bold father and unsatisfied mother in “When Doves Cry.”

Daddy smiles. “Ah, Prince. He’s one of my very favorites. You’ll be hearing a lot of him in our house. You know this song?”

The 10-year-old speaks in an exaggerated hem and haw: “Ummm … No.”

Daddy’s smile fades. Entering his home state, he feels a sort of tightening in his chest. It’s a leaden thud that is not quite a heart attack but something equally dreadful.

Then the motherlode plays: “Like a Prayer.” Slashing guitar gives way to Madonna’s plaintive “Life is a mystery” gives way to a roiling bassline gives way to a gospel choir.

“And this is my favorite of all time: Madonna,” the man tells his son. “You know her? You ever hear this song?”

The child looks up from his tablet, as if he may say yes. The father’s heart leaps.

“I don’t even know.”

The father’s heart deflates. The song ends as he pulls into his driveway. The child bounds into the house as the man lingers in the driver’s seat. His head sinks lower and lower until his brow rests on the steering wheel. His bones suddenly turn to crystal. His blood suddenly slows to a crawl in his veins. He has never felt so weary.

And when he raises his head to look in the rearview mirror, he could swear—swear—he sees some crow’s feet that weren’t there before.