Silence

You were always somewhere at the back of my mind, hiding in its shadows and pulling at my heart’s strings on rare encounters.

It was a mellow Saturday evening. I was 12 years old, walking up the Main street with my mom.

While passing by a fountain, I noticed a group of graduate high schoolers, catcalling, whistling, monkeying around. A short, brown-haired girl got my attention. She looked so sad and hurt it was almost palpable. She was looking at you like a wounded soldier with a pleading look.

You extracted yourself from your gang and stood in front of her. I remember your beautiful face, suddenly lizard-like and totally wicked. You said something to the girl which made her seem to be suddenly crumpling inside. It was like watching a bloodless murder.

„This guy is so arrogant“, I told my mom. However, your features had been etched in my brain from that day onwards. They would resurface from time to time but I would stuff them back where they belonged, to the „No-no“ section. Still, you have been part of my inner being ever since.

∞

I have started having troubles sleeping again. That means my brain will not calm down until I hear the soft rumbling of the engine your car. I have no idea where you are, who you have been with, when you are coming back. I just know I can’t sleep until I hear your car, even when there is a female voice accompanying your deep resonant mumbling. I like to think you don’t want me to hear you but I know that may not be entirely true. Because you don’t care.

I remember the exact moment when I realized you actually didn’t care whether I heard or not, how much and whether it pained me or not. After years of pushing you away from my mind, your unexpected divorce, my sudden exultation, your seduction games, engagement, breaking off….After months of yearning, lust, heartache and heartbreak following the reveal of your various “adventures”, I went to the window to close it and then stopped in my tracks.

You had been dallying with so many others up to that very moment that I lost count and myself.

However, that day, I went to put the shutters down to block your physical presence and saw you, with your arm snaking around the shoulders of one of my students’ mother, the one who repeatedly insulted me and made scenes, forcing her lips to yours and she acted reluctant, twisting out of your hug and I was standing there, torn between more heartache and pure scientific curiosity, observing you and wondering whether you knew I was watching, whether you were aware for one millisecond that there was someone digesting the scene and analyzing every aspect of it and dying inside while watching. Then she left with a half-promise of seeing you that night and then another one came along, this time our neighbor, hugged and kissed you and you had a short, quiet chat with her, half-hidden by the wall and when you were done with her, a thought flashed:

“He couldn’t care less. He doesn’t even care whether I am up here, watching, yearning, crying, absorbing everything, whether I have seen, heard - he doesn’t care at all!” And it all escalated weeks later when you started seeing another one of our neighbors. That’s when my not being able to sleep started. I had to know who it was. I had to know who was sneaking around with you, whose silhouette kissed you in the car as you were driving away. I stayed up all night, totally awoke, super-acute to every sound, in the darkness of my spare room, hoping you would steal a look at my windows. When the cat was out of the bag, you made sure I heard you in front of the elevator, while parking your car under my balcony, every sound, whisper, scratching of the feet on the floor in front of my door.

 I decided it was high time for me to go to bed and sleep. But it has started all over again because some weeks ago, you stopped coming home at weekends and I have to stop this because, you see, I’m afraid I am not that into you as much as I am into this emotionally void pain and need to snap out of it fast. But then we meet and you cannot look me in the eye, and I feel as if I have just won a small victory and it feels so good and worth it.

∞

I woke up quite early. The winter dawn was looming in the distance. Oh, a famous Hamlet dilemma „To sleep, perchance to dream“ lost to my resolution to do some meaningful work before the actual daybreak.

 I was standing on the door to my balcony, barefoot, sipping coffee, enjoying cold crisp air, looking at the horizon, playing some lounge music in my head. Not a living soul, just me.

I felt you before I looked in your direction. You could have been standing there for a long time, at the corner of the street. Our eyes locked. You were looking at me with such intensity that I almost dropped the cup. I crossed to the railing, still barefoot, not breaking eye contact for a second. You stood still and watched me. A frozen moment in time. I rose my hand and waved, cursing myself for not having my phone with me. You were rooted in place, looking and then turned and left.

Left me with so many questions. How many times have you watched my balcony? Have you ever watched me through the curtains? Have you ever wanted to knock on the door upon seeing the light and have silent coffee together? Have you ever, have you ever, have you ever…? I bet you have but courage and vulnerability were never your forte. Just your very presence that is hugely missed. Perhaps I should text you and invite you for a morning companiable silence while sipping our morning pick-me -ups. I get inside and grab my phone.

∞

I long to hear your voice. It hasn’t been that long but it seems like forever. I miss hearing that low rumbling resembling the rolling thunder coming towards me. I miss its seductive nuances even when you talk to men. I miss hearing it muffled in my hair or with your lips pressed against the phone.

I miss you so much at times that I have to bend over and focus on breathing.

I miss your intentional cough in front of the elevator informing me that you are there, present, a mere door away.

I long to see your car parked under my balcony. I keep getting outside and looking down though I am acutely aware I will never see it again. I long to hear you coming up the street with „Johhny B.“ blaring through your car’s window.

I jumped when I saw it in front of the store the other day and got mad when I saw another person driving away in it. They sold it right after the incident.

Most of all, I miss knowing you are there, a lonely sentinel unable to see that his strength and willpower were not enough to protect him from the world.