The Silent (Re)Treatment

When Claire dropped the first hint that our relationship wasn't working, it was on a Tuesday night at the local Mexican restaurant. Without any explanation, she threw her napkin down on the table, abruptly stood up, and stormed out just minutes before our dinner was brought to the table. I would've tried to stop her, but I wanted to enjoy my meal, not let her unwarranted anger ruin it for me.

When I tried to talk to her and figure out what the problem was, it was on a Wednesday morning at our house. She was angrily scrambling eggs while I approached her with a plate in hand. "Good morning, sweetheart," I said as I attempted to kiss her on the cheek, but she pulled away.

"Do not 'good morning' me, Daniel." She eyed the plate in my hand and swatted me out of her way. "I cannot believe you have the nerve to come strutting into the kitchen expecting breakfast after last night. Do you even know what yesterday was?"

"Taco Tuesday?" I responded, visibly confused. It was beyond me what she was inferring by that question, so I figured a bit of dorky wit would help clear the toxic wasteland environment she was creating. It did not.

Claire dropped the spatula out of her hand, letting it sink into the pan filled with half-scrambled, half-gooey eggs. She turned to face me so quickly I thought I was going to be slapped, but she restrained herself. "Are you serious right now?" She asked. "It was our one-year anniversary, Daniel. How could you forget?"

Oh, right. How could I forget? The day she's been talking about for a month straight. The day she drilled into my head every chance she could get. The day she was so excited for. The day she really wanted me to plan something for. The day I forgot.

"Oops," was the only response I could muster up in the moment. Lackluster, sure, but probably more than she was expecting.

"'Oops'?" She repeated, saying it just slowly enough so that I could reflect on what I said. "What do you mean 'Oops'? This was our one-year anniversary, and I waited all day for you to say something to me. When you barely acknowledged me yesterday morning, I brushed it off. When lunch came around and all you asked me was to make you a sandwich, I gave you the benefit of the doubt. When the only reason you wanted to go out was because there would be discounted tacos, I was almost at my breaking point, but I waited. I thought, 'Maybe he's planning something really elaborate and secretive for tonight'. 'Maybe he'll surprise me with something really sweet,' hell, 'maybe he'll propose.' Nope! You cared about nothing but those damn tacos and the football game playing on the TV at the bar."

My jaw almost dropped as she said that. Why would I propose? It's been one year, isn't that a little too soon? I thought it'd be best not to ask her that, so I did the next best thing: lie. "I was waiting until dessert! It's not my fault you were so antsy and jumped up before we even got dinner. I was going to do the whole 'ring-in-the-cake' thing, but you ruined the surprise."

For a second, she almost believed me. I could see that twinkle of hope in her deep blue eyes, but that was quickly washed away when she rolled them. "I don't believe that for a second. If that were true, you would've tried to stop me from storming out, but you didn't. You didn't even know why I was upset until just now. You didn't even expect me to be angry when you walked into the kitchen. Well, guess what, I am beyond."

At this point, the messy mixture of eggs was turning black in the pan, and desperately trying to find an escape from the conversation, I quickly reached to the side of her waist and turned off the stove.

Before I could even think of a response, she quickly blurted, "I think we need couples' therapy." She let out a sigh of relief as if she'd been working up the courage to say that for a minute now.

I could feel my face turning tomato-red in anger as I said, "No way. We don't need therapy. It was one little mistake, Claire, nothing that we can't move past." I watched her eyes start flooding with tears. Those weren't tears of sadness, though. They were angry. Those tears had a vengeance, and I was tempted to back away in case those tears meant violence.

"That's the thing, Daniel, we can't move past this. Ever since we moved in together, things have been weird between us. It's like every other week something like this is happening. If we can't fix it, maybe a professional can, and if you aren't in agreement with this, I don't think our relationship will work out." She didn't look me in the eyes once as she said that, but I could tell she was serious. She had made up her mind, and it was up to me to respond to her ultimatum, as always. So, I did what any conflicted man in my situation would've done: I gave her the silent treatment. That did not go so well for me.

When Claire handed me the pamphlet for a couples' therapy retreat, it was on that same Wednesday night at the foot of our bed. I thought if I didn't speak to her for the rest of the day, she'd back down on this whole "therapy" thing, but that wasn't the case.

"I picked this up after breakfast when you decided not to speak to me. If you want to give me the silent treatment, fine, but we're gonna put that silence to good use," she said firmly. "Don't think about lying down in this bed until you have read the pamphlet and you've agreed to be packed to leave for the retreat in the morning."

I didn't really have to read the pamphlet to know what the retreat entailed. Everyone had heard of the "Silent Harmony" program. It was the talk of the town due to how bizarre the concept was. Their tagline was "For couples who don't want to talk about their problems..." Everyone knew what this program was, but no one actually knew if the program was effective. I mean, come on, no one wants their dirty laundry being aired out through neighborhood gossip. I guess we would find out for ourselves.

Without uttering a word, I just nodded to Claire in agreement and began packing my bags for the week-long retreat as she told me she called and already reserved us a spot in their next excursion. I knew I'd probably regret agreeing to the retreat, but it was really my only option if I wanted to remain in a relationship with her. By the time I finished packing, Claire was already lying down. I crawled into bed next to her, and she scooted away from me. The only thing she said to me all night was "We'll see who breaks their silence first, and I can guarantee you it won't be me."

When we left for the retreat, it was on a Thursday morning at the crack of dawn. In practice for the retreat and in an act of rebelliousness on her part, and an immense amount of frustration on mine, we didn't speak to each other the whole car ride to the camp we'd be staying at. We didn't know the complete set of rules and regulations for this retreat, we just knew that it centered around one idea: silence.

When we arrived at the camp, it was on that Thursday afternoon at a sketchy turn off the main highway onto a dirt road that led to a really secluded area of the forest that had a few cabins spread about and just a handful of cars parked a few hundred feet away. It was exactly the address on the pamphlet, so we figured there was no reason to be worried about the isolation of the camp. Plus, if we got murdered, that would be a mere stroke of luck to get me out of the retreat.

Claire and I grabbed our bags and walked up to the cabin closest to where we parked, which had "Welcome" carved into the wood above the door. When we entered, we were greeted by a man in all white who was gesturing towards a whiteboard that had a list of rules and expectations for us to follow on this retreat. Next to that were a few rows of chairs occupied by couples who looked visibly angry with one another. I'd never seen one room filled with so much tension before, and I spent most of my time with Claire.

We found two empty seats that each had a paper with one of our names taped on it. I sat down in my designated seat and was given a name card by the man who had gestured to the whiteboard. I began reading over the rules of the couples' retreat that were listed underneath the title "Silent Harmony: A Journey Through Connection". The rules were very simple. They were listed as:

1. NO Speaking Under Any Circumstance, Excluding Emergency
2. NO Devices
3. DAILY Written Check-Ins With Guides
4. NO Leaving the Premises, Excluding Emergency
5. Failure to Comply with Any of the Above Rules And/Or Infractions of Our Terms & Conditions Will Result in Immediate Dismissal Without Refund
6. You Will Be Monitored 24/7, Exception of Bathroom

I wasn't really sure what the terms and conditions consisted of, but I knew Claire had done her research and was bound to give me a very angry look if I were to go against any of them. After a few minutes of confused silence had passed (I just assumed they were giving us time to read over the rules), a couple men in all white walked around the room with small plastic containers, gesturing for us to give them our phones. Once we were device-free, one of the men-in-white let me, Claire, and the rest of the couples outside to the other cabins.

There were only 3 other cabins and 9 couples total, including me and Claire, and we were all split up between the cabins. Outside of each cabin, there was a list of names written on a small whiteboard by the front door. When Claire and I found our designated cabin, we quickly went inside to decompress from the strange atmosphere we were in. Inside the cabin, I realized two things: every couple shared a bed, and everyone shared the same room. The only separate room was the bathroom, which I figured was just to make it easier for the men-in-white to keep their eyes on us from the camera nestled in the corner of the small, open space. Claire and I shared a look of tempted regret, but the disconnect between us was enough to keep us in this silent cult-like experience for a week.

When I finally grew comfortable with the silence and surveillance, it was a Friday afternoon at the cabin where the couples got to sit and eat together. Though only a day had passed since our arrival, two couples had already been kicked out of the program for speaking. Claire and I remained strong, however, because neither of us even wanted to speak to each other. I decided to look at the retreat as a game since that was the only way to make it tolerable for me. As long as I could outlast the other couples' silence, I was satisfied with my stay. And, if my silence would convince Claire to stay with me, I was also satisfied.

The food here wasn't so bad. It was no worse than the sloppy joes I had to eat at summer camp years ago, so that was a win. Really, the camp itself wasn't so bad. They gave us books to read and card games to play, and it really just felt like a long game of quiet mouse, and as long as I kept quiet the longest, I wouldn't complain.

There was no rubric or daily schedule for the camp other than silence. We woke up when we wanted, ate when we wanted, and shared looks of disgust with one another when we wanted. It was peaceful, but it was also so frustrating to not be able to express how I was feeling other than through facial expressions. We were allowed to write letters to one another, but Claire was fully committing to the "no communication" aspect of things, and I just didn't know what to say.

Some couples visibly hated the retreat, and others visibly thrived and reconnected by the third day. Claire and I rested on the edge of comfortability, and I thrived in the area of observation. I was able to tell more about other couples' situations than our own. Phil and Laura, one of our couple-mates, were battling a divorce and pointed at lines in books to tell their partner just how they were feeling. Gabrielle and Tasha, our other couple-mates, had moved too fast into their relationship and came to the retreat in hopes of taking a week to slow down and get some space with one another. I know that because I read their letters when I was bored and needed something to do. It was clear that they were not moving any slower, and by the end of the third day, Tasha was crafting a ring out of paper and silently proposing to Gabrielle, almost causing them to break their silence in excitement. Gabrielle said yes and held in her squeal while Claire just eyed me, reminding me how we ended up at this retreat.

When I realized just what I was taking for granted, it was a Monday morning at the exact moment that I opened my eyes. I don't know what came over me, but looking at Claire's face, just inches away from mine, made me feel like the worst boyfriend on earth. She was so beautiful. Her brown, pin-straight hair fell upon one side of her caramel face, and her freckles scattered themselves neatly across her cheeks. I was so undeserving of her. I forgot about a day that was so important to her and should have been so important to me. At this moment, I felt something I usually never did, I felt... wrong.

All it took was the inability to speak for me to realize just how much Claire meant to me. But, I missed Claire's voice so much. I missed our happiness profoundly, and it was getting to me not knowing if she felt the same way.

I gently tapped Claire on her shoulder, waking her up. Resisting the urge to tell her I loved her, I gave her a small kiss on the cheek, and this time she let me. My eyes welled with tears as I looked into hers, and I couldn't resist the silence anymore.

"I'm sorry," I said aloud, "I should have remembered." She smiled at me, gently running her fingers through my curly black hair. I could tell by her body language that she felt immensely relieved, and I knew that I made the right decision even if we'd be kicked out of the resort within minutes. She stopped brushing her fingers through my hair and stood up, still smiling. Then... she laughed.

"You lost!" She declared. "I told you it wouldn't be me breaking my silence first." As I sat there in disbelief, two men-in-white opened the door to our cabin and walked over to us to usher us out. We began packing our bags, and then Claire said, "Oh, and I forgive you. But I also win."

Claire had been looking at this camp like a game, too, and that's when I realized: this couples' therapy retreat was a scam. We weren't meant to stay silent this whole time. We were meant to break our silence. It dawned upon me, after 4 days, that if we hadn't spoken that whole week, nothing would've changed in our relationship. We needed to speak to one another; we needed conversation.

When Claire and I were kicked out of the retreat program, it was a Monday morning as soon as we were done packing.

When Claire and I rekindled what almost was a lost cause, it was a Monday morning as soon as we finally spoke to one another.

When I proposed to Claire, it was a Tuesday night at the local Mexican restaurant.

When Claire said yes, I told myself I'd never silence my love for her again.