Gavin’s need to have the last word was impulsive and constant. Petty phrases tripped off his tongue. Never grand notions or thoughtful considerations, they were meant to fill up the air. They took up space to the exclusion of dialogue. Words poured forth from him like a stream of consciousness. No meaning was intended. The purpose was to redirect attention to Gavin. He felt small when someone else was talking. He worried relentlessly and imagined himself shrinking to the size of a peanut on the sidewalk where shoe soles threatened him. To keep from shrinking, he responded with vehemence to his interlocutor. Taking the other person off their guard was half of the objective. Gavin continued then with a different train of thought, deftly moving the conversation into an area of his choice; mechanics, the problem of traffic, politics. Closely following this diversion was his next dilemma; developing a singular and striking point of view, some argument of which there was little possibility others would have an opinion. Gavin's strategy was practised and flawless. With the attention back on him, the shrinking stopped. Gavin added to it a reasonably good vocabulary and most people were too polite to dig deeper to understand where Gavin’s logic would lead when they realized the discourse did not amount to cohesive logic. The truth is, he did not know either, but it kept him afloat in the moment.
When he first met a new acquaintance, he had a captive audience. Gavin dominated, after notable effort to interrupt the other person, the conversation gradually dissipated, et voilà! He had the last word evading banishment to the dirty sidewalk, in the form of a peanut rolling out of the way of scuffed leather loafers, smelly tennis shoes and rubber soles with sticky wads of gum clinging stubbornly, blackened by dust. When Gavin felt the menacing feet coming for him, he pulled himself up and argued hard. The words came with little and no planning. Once he had made one impossible declaration; it could only snow if the temperature was exactly 0 degrees, temperatures lower than 0 inhibited snow from forming, he then tacked in another direction; schools in Britain were inferior to schools worldwide.
Who would know what to respond? Why would they want to respond? His assessments were unsolicited, leaving anyone listening to him disoriented. There was nothing to argue because no one was engaged in the thought process except Gavin. This was his second strategy to getting the last word and saving himself from the looming would-be-killer-shoes menacing his existence.
The shoes reminded Gavin of his father. They were small, black, pointy and tightly laced. He did not show his fear, instead he talked more and more. One by one, people in a group at a party would leave in confusion or annoyance. The politest person was left to endure the string of accusations against the government, the economy, neighbours. It did not matter. A bystander could identify the polite person by the tolerant smile, nodding at Gavin and occasionally looking sideways for an escape route. Eventually, the last man standing would suggest getting a drink and melt into the crowd instead of coming back. Gavin would get the last word in and leave without waiting for a response. The tightly laced, pointy, black shoes just behind him as he mumbled to no one, walking away alone, determined to have the last word while the wind accompanied him.