The Silent Women

Silence. It’s almost as if she’s obsolete. No one pays attention to what she says, only what she looks like. Anyone who truly knows her, understands that her silence has a purpose. She sits, she listens, she nods along, she hums the beat to herself, she does what she is told. He thanks the proper people for their hospitality and she embraces the warmth of his hand on her back as he leads her back to the old 1969 Pontiac Firebird, 

“Are we going home?” she asks hopefully,

“No, I have to speak at an event.”

“Where at this time?”

He does not answer. She knows she isn’t supposed to ask about his business. She is there to present herself as a figurine, something to show off. He has his secrets, she has hers, but the silence between them in the car is more deafening than usual. She reaches for his hand and he pulls away, she should have known better than to ask. As they drive down Welch Avenue her mind races. Why won’t he speak to her, why won’t he look at her, why did he show her kindness and then take it away again so quickly. As she looks down at her perfectly done pedicure and brand new Dolce&Gabbana heels she wonders if he still loves her. She hates flowers, but the satin roses cascading down the heels of the shoes into emerald leaves are the most beautiful things she’s ever seen. The buildings surrounding them are cloaked in darkness. The street lights illuminate the sidewalks as she stares at the reflection of the red muscle car in the windows of the buildings. They take a turn down Michigan Avenue and she snaps back into her body as he reaches for her hand to take her from the car into the event. 

“This building is incredible” she looks in awe, as they walk into what was The Hard Rock Hotel in downtown Chicago.

He takes her by the hand leading her into a large fundraising event, she’s so giddy with excitement over the pure 1920’s architecture of the building she forgets all about the issues they’ve been having. 

“Stay here. The ladies rooms are to the left if you need, but meet me backstage when you are finished with your gawking.” 

His brash attitude is disregarded. She is still taking in the scenery, the sheer beauty of the marble and glass sparkling as she strides across the floor. The history of the building itself is enough to get her excited as she peers through her mind's eye trying to imagine herself in the past. She always longs for the connections we seem to have lost through history; now, no one seems to have a passion for anything or anyone. She reaches the ladies rooms and finds a full length mirror; she can see herself. She looks incredible, she knows it. She wants to be the center of attention tonight. The moment fades away with a slight sadness surrounding her as she realizes she only wants one person’s focus. As she turns to leave the restrooms she sees a couple of younger ladies coming through, most likely girls whose fathers invested a lot of money into the research for the event. They’re gabbing on about some drama they have with boys and look like they’re supposed to be at a prom not a gala like this. She looks back on her life, consumed, by science, history, and literature when she was young. She wonders how different her life would be if she hadn’t married him. She looks back at the girls again before leaving and gives them a wink, almost as if to say ‘good luck’. 

She enters backstage as told and awaits his arrival.

“Where the hell have you been?! I go out there in ten minutes!” He exclaims at her.

“I’m sorry, is there anything I can do to help before you go on?” She asks knowing he doesn’t need or want her help.

“Just go out there and shake hands with people who want to fund my research.”

Once again, she does as told and goes out to the crowd to mingle and shake hands with all of the people she despises. His business is in the oil and mining corporations, the very things that created and ultimately will destroy all the things she loves. Though she can appreciate the incredible gifts and possibilities of the wealth that comes with his business, she also despises the way he continues to grow his wealth. Alas, all she can do for now is smile, look pretty, and make the right friends for him. He comes out, and the crowd loves him; because, he's making them money. 

She hates him, but needs him. He doesn’t realize that he is also making her money, though. She’s been running a counter start-up green energy foundation under an alias and through a close friend behind his back. She thinks he deserves it after all of the destruction his business brings. She has so much to say, but is rarely allowed to speak. In a world dominated by men and money she has been turned away too many times to count. He refused any idea of clean energy efforts in his business because he was obsessed with the money, the power that came after, and the status quo. Now, not all women marry for love, but she was in love with him and he found her suitable enough to wed at the time. She married for love, but she had found herself with a couple of opportunities after his love wore off. She took advantage of the opportunity to use the money and clothes he gave her to fund her eco-friendly start-up with her friend. Much to her chagrin, she accidentally bumps into one of her funders at the gala for her husband’s business. 

“Oh man, I bet you’re here to raise some hell on these people-”

“SHHH” she exclaims and points to the stage “That is my husband.”

“Okay, well things just got very confusing.”

“I can explain later, meet me near the women’s restroom in thirty.” 

Her funder stumbles a little while walking away, drink in hand.

She continues her rounds mingling with people at the event and eventually walks towards the ladies rooms hastily, but she’s stopped just short of entering.

“Hey, I couldn’t find you so I looked here. Did you make your full rounds?”

“Yes.”

“Good, did anyone express interest in furthering the project to you?”

She goes to say what he wants to hear, like normal, but is interrupted.

“Hey!” Her funder exclaims from across the large hall,

“You owe me an explanation missy girl!” 

Her screaming has alerted the ears of him now.

“What does she mean?” he presses the topic

“Nothing, my friend got a little drunk. I'll help her out.”

“No, I think I might like to hear this ‘explanation’ as well.”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry Marie!” Her friend says as she gets escorted to her car.

He is staring at her with an intensity that could manifest a black hole. She is terrified.

“So, ‘Marie’,” he says while circling her as a shark about to snap its mouth shut

“What is this explanation Stella was looking for?”  

“She’s just drunk, obviously.” He did not take that insult to his pride very well.

“I noticed, thank you for pointing that out.”

He drags her to the car by the wrist and then by the hair once out of prying eyes demanding she tell him what she’s doing without his approval. Her silence that had been her friend for so long was now gone. She had so many things to say, she had so much hate in her heart for him at this point, but decided on, “I want a divorce.”