Who’s to Blame?

Where does the blame lie? Is there blame? Or should what happened to Eliot be chalked up to fate?

One could say, should say, Eliot had it all.  At least one supposed he did when he was three years old, and left a wavy impression of flax-blue eyes and corn silk hair after he’d dashed through a room. He had a father who worked and loved him, a mother who loved him and worked at home. His house was half-finished, but that would be rectified – in time. Truth be told, the half-built house was on the acceptable side of town, not downtown where unemployed loggers stumbled from drink while their wives pumped water out of flooded basements or merely watched the foundations of their homes rot into the ground. Nor was Eliot’s house along the waterfront where deteriorating docks yearned for the ships that no longer swayed while their hulls were loaded with timber. And most certainly the half-built house was not up on the hill, lodged among solid brick homes surrounded by azaleas and rhododendrons, and three cars in every driveway. As we said, Eliot lived in the acceptable part of town.

Maybe his parent’s divorce was to blame. Or his lack of interest in school. Or the uncle who molested him on their “special” camping trips. Perhaps blame lies in Eliot’s association with friends – can we call them friends? – who drank and took drugs and stole in order to enjoy unsavory pastimes. Maybe we should avoid combining enjoy and unsavory pastimes in the same sentence, but, for awhile, Eliot seemed to thrive on everything society frowned upon. In fact our Eliot sprinkled his own rendition of tasteless behavior on top of what he and his pals dished out to the people in town.  “Such as?” you ask. Does stealing computers, microwaves, radios and televisions from his father satisfy or should there be more? There is more.  But you must do your own research to discover everything Eliot got up to during his teenage years.

In the end, fair Eliot has slipped? plunged?  from darling boy, to handsome teen, to sad and broken man.  He has no job. He has no money. Later today our Eliot will have no teeth.  Thank you, Mr. Meth.