Let’s Make Some Noise

The rounded corner of the clipboard hit the white tile first. It bounced, tilted, and repeated on the opposite corner. The back of the clipboard then slammed into the floor and audibly shook the metal bar as it landed. 

“I’m so sorry,” Heather blurted out as the dropped item echoed throughout the barren room. She pressed her lips together in immediate regret, but then kept talking. “And now I’ve spoken. I’m sorry for that too. And that I’m still talking.”

STOP TALKING. Stop making noise. 

Heather inhaled through her nose. The receptionist smiled without showing her teeth. It was a kind gesture. It signaled that Heather was not the first guest at Spring Hill Retreat to break the first rule: silence. 

Heather had signed up for the retreat’s mini session. It was a chance to experience the feeling of complete silence, but only for two days. Attendees were given instructions on how to arrive silent and stay that way for the entire 48 hours. Each person got two t-shirts upon arrival. They had their name printed on the front and back as if they were on a sporting team. When she’d read the brochure, Heather thought it was somewhat odd to share the names. They wouldn’t be able to say them, but it would be stranger to not know anyone’s names at all. The Jersey style shirts seemed like a fair compromise. 

Heather retrieved the clipboard from the floor and located her name on the list. There were only seven guests so she did not have to do a deep search for her name. She added an X to the box next to her name, scribbled her signature on the line, and handed it back to the receptionist. 

She dropped the pen back into the cup. The clang of the tip as it hit the bottom made of metal again echoed throughout the room. Heather squeezed her eyes shut and sighed. This would be a long two days. She could feel the glare of the older man sitting against the wall. 

BE QUIET. 

The brochure had listed dozens of reasons to attend the silent weekend. Stress, drama, mental health, all the usual suspects were reasons. They were obvious choices to step away and hear your own thoughts. But in Heather’s case, she had her own list of reasons to want to get away from it all. Her job was a dead end. She had left a role that could have been a career for the start-up company. The start up finally gave her a reason for her monthly student loan payment that ate up half her salary. 

Heather’s relationship with Drew had come to a screeching halt when he decided that Alexis was more fun. When he announced he had met someone else, Heather felt nothing, to her surprise. After six years of dating, she didn’t shed a tear. She responded to Drew with “Okay, I think most of the suitcases are yours anyway.” Her emotional response didn’t increase as they unraveled their lives from each other. Drew and Alexis didn’t bring her happiness or unhappiness. They existed in the same world.

Heather kept their apartment and transferred the deed into her name. If she had the energy to open the burgundy curtains, the view of the lake was nice, especially in the mornings. The location of the apartment gave an unobstructed view and she couldn’t see any neighbors. Most of the time, Heather left the curtains drawn. The promise that they’d never know they had neighbors from their realtor had been true. In six years, they had never heard their neighbors. No loud bass, no fights, no barking. 

The receptionist motioned that she would be right back after she clicked on Heather’s name on her iPad. She was going to retrieve Heather’s shirts and her welcome-please-shut-up package. All the attendees got sound-reduction items for the common areas. Slippers with soft bottoms that resembled grippy socks. Linen pants to avoid whooshing sounds. Toiletries were in silicone containers with matching silicone baskets. If you needed a specific product, advance notice was okay. The staff would fill a rubber bottle with your requested product. But the general idea was to use what you get for the two days, as appearance was not the highlight of the weekend. 

There were no snack wrappers, aluminum foil, or crunchy food throughout the premises. The welcome basket included soft snacks. They were in more silicone or wrapped in wax-lined linen. The only need from the eater was that they do it with their mouth completely closed. 

Heather hadn’t accounted for the stress of staying quiet, though. She had already failed within the first eight minutes of being on the property. She could feel the embarrassed sweat on the back of her neck. As she shifted her weight she could notice every sound that emitted from her clothes and breath. 

The smell of Aiden’s cologne reached Heather before he did. The emptiness of the room helped with that. She breathed in the scent of patchouli and tobacco and felt a little calmer. She felt Aiden slide next to her at the counter.

“I think they made the pen cup out of metal just to mess with us,” he whispered. “When I signed in, I really tossed it in there and Mr. Gumpus over there looked like he wanted me thrown out.” He nodded in the direction of the same man who had frowned at Heather. 

Heather turned in surprise at the broken rule. She met Aiden’s brown eyes for the first time and felt her entire body relax. She could feel the pressure as it slid out of her chest. Her ribs felt lighter. The lump that had been in her throat for years slid away. Aiden’s face was kind but there was more to it than that. She uncontrollably grinned. “It’s cruel,” she whispered back. 

Aiden’s face lit up. “Do you think they do it on purpose? Like they bet each other on how awkward they can make us feel when we get here. If I didn’t feel awkward already, I wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

Heather didn’t know if it was the empty room, or the excitement over feeling alive for the first time in a long time. But the words slipped out of her heart before her brain had time to stop it. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” 

Aiden’s lips revealed a hearty grin. She felt it too. He nodded.

“Let’s go make some noise.”