Inspired by Silence

When the only thing separating two people is silence, it will always become filled with fantasy, each as different and as wild as the other, and all unlikely and uncertain. We all know that to break the silence would result in us hearing the answer we seek, but it might also may result in us hearing the truth, and nothing could be more dreadful.

And so we think that we are content to lie down dreaming and imagining, inspiring each scenario with our fears and desires.

...

“Go on,” she said.

Everyone was walking around them but she was just standing there, a rock, unmoving and in the way.

“You must want to say something.”

Her eyes pierce yours. Her gaze locks you in place. You don’t know what to say. You start to shrug and look away. You want to get away.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” she says again, her imploring voice forcing your eyes back to hers.

“There must be so much you’ve wanted to say, how much I’ve hurt you, betrayed you, misled you…”

The crowd is starting to thin. Are people staring? She keeps talking,

“Surely you must hate me.”

She becomes the crescendo in the orchestra now, and every word a nail in a coffin she is building.

“Just say it. There’s no point in hiding it. All this silence and stares, I know, I know you hate me, so just say it!”

She glares at you, but her breathing comes in pulses of obvious emotion. You feel stuck, how should you say it, should you say it?”

...

Option One:

She’ll believe it, you know she will. It’s been building up, under the surface.

Quiet.

Bubbling.

Brewing like a storm.

Or volcano.

The peripheral of your vision starts to blur and you know it’s coming. The eruption, the rain.

The fire.

You barely hear her next words,

“I hate this! Just say it! Say what you’ve been thinking this whole time. Please! Then I’ll never mention it again!”

You shouldn’t say it, you know that. You try to shrug, to blow away the storm, but she cuts you off with her stare.

“Be honest,” she almost whispers, a deathly venom-filled hiss.

You continue to stare, but your feelings don’t erupt like you thought.

“You’re right,” you say, calm and tempered.

“I do hate you.”

She nods, matching your tone, but her breathing doesn’t slow.

“I hate you because of how you treated me, how you lied to me, confused me and then let me down.”

She nods again, then drops her eyes.

“I hate you because you promised me everything, then you lied. To me. And then you took it all away for no reason. You’ve still never told me the reason, but I’ve worked it out. You are a liar. You never loved me. And you didn’t want me anymore. So you just got rid of me, but now you feel guilty, so you haven’t known how to act. Somehow you just keep making it worse, without even doing anything, and that is why. That is why I hate you.”

You look at her in the pause. Now your silence is forcing her eyes to yours. But they don’t look hurt enough and in that moment, you just want to see some evidence that she is hurt as well. So you say it again.

“I. Hate. You.”

With that, you sit back to watch the poison from your fangs sink into her. You sit back to watch her struggle and die. You expect to feel freer. Instead there’s just hollowness inside. She takes a breath and steels herself, somehow drawing on something, on some antivenom she’d hidden deep inside.

“You’re right,” she replies, like the last leaf falling from a frozen tree. You feel like the massive chamber where your hate has resided is falling in on itself, now your stomach and heart are caving in.

“I deserve your hate.”

Now the ceiling and the floor have given in and your falling, free-falling.

“I would apologize but you know how sorry I am.”

It’s true. You know her guilt and contrition all too well.

“I can only ask for your forgiveness, but I know I have no right to it.”

You don’t say a word. She hangs her head and all you can think about is everything all she has done to hurt you. Then unbidden, this thought rushes in; have you hurt her?

“I won’t bother you anymore. When I see you, I’ll just smile and be on my way.”

She pauses and still looking down adds, “Thank you, for being honest.”

Another pause.

“And I am very, very, very sorry.”

And she pauses, looks up, smiles a terrible smile then walks away, bearing all your hate with a carefree heart.

Option Two:

You don’t care what she believes, but there’s a snake inside you, twisting, thirsting. You look down at you hands as if they’re red with blood. The strangers in your peripheral start to fade as you see with a sickened heart, her once precious eyes welling with tears.

“I hate this! Just say it! Say what you’ve been thinking this whole time. Please! Then I’ll never mention it again!”

Pity overtakes you like a sudden storm, accompanied with the strong winds of guilt. But you decided to flush it out, to stick in the knife to drain the bad blood out.

And so out it pours,

“No, you’re wrong, I really don’t care anymore!”

She stares, skeptical.

“It’s true!” you insist, raising your hands in surrender, “I really haven’t cared since November.”

She blinks. Then breathes a sign of relief and smiles.

“I’m sorry,” you offer, sheepish.

“I am too,” she offers back, contrition written into her voice, as it always has been.

In the gap of silence that follows, you smile at each other, watching it all be rewritten and restored. Then she walks away, and you do too.

Leaving your old ways, and never coming back for more.

The Last Option:

Would she believe it if you told the truth? The strangers in your peripheral blur, so do the edges of her eyes as you watch a few tears threaten the borders.

“I hate this!”

She abandons the calm, now she’s armed, ready for the final blow.

“Just say it! Say what you’ve been thinking this whole time. Please! Then I’ll never mention it again!”

You pause for a second - just one second - and in that time you frantically search the picture in front of you.

Red lips

Dark eyes

Soft hair

Cold hands

Hurting heart.

And so you obey.

Before your mind realizes, the heart is speaking for you. The words are formed, the lips parted, finally the voice box is engaged as pupils dilate and a red flush creeps up on you.

“I love you.”