The Sound of Silence

In her latest album,

Amaranthine

, ENYA recorded a song entitled 'A Moment Lost'. The song suggests that something happened in one instant that changed someone's life. I wanted to try to write a story that uses that idea. The sentence is as follows: "A moment lost, forever gone can never be again". In addition to that song, Simon and Garfunkel recorded a song called 'The Sound of Silence.' As I was writing this story, the sadness of that song also spoke to me and I incorporated it into this short tale.

My praise for ENYA. If angels sang, they would sound like her.

Edited by my own angel, Lady Cibelle.

*

"Hey Linda, aren't you ever going home? It's past 4:00 and I'm clocked in. So, go home girl!"

That was JC Powers, one of the two young girls covering the evening shift at The Gap where I worked as Store Manager. She and Sheila would cover the store till closing at 9:00, or sneaking the door shut a few minutes earlier if the mall foot traffic was slow. Usually was this time of year. They would use the time to clear the register and set the store displays for tomorrow. All routine but still taking valuable time from two beautiful young girls ready for partying.

"I'm just finishing up some things and then I'm gone. Thanks JC."

"OK, boss, but you spend too much time here. Just go home. Sheila and I have it."

Actually, I was just thinking. Nothing important, just random thinking. Letting my mind wander before time to get going so I could be home by 4:30. That was my usual time to start dinner for Phillip and I. Just the two of us the last two years, since the kids moved out to start their own lives. Just us after twenty-four years of marriage; the typical empty nest couple.

I encountered little traffic this afternoon so the ride home was easy. Only took twenty minutes or so before I pulled in to the driveway of the two storey, Mediterranean-style home we shared in the suburbs of Cincinnati, Ohio. It was probably too big now with the kids gone. Probably should consider moving to a condo or an apartment closer to town, but Philip loved the place. Maybe one day.

I went in, stripped off my work clothes and changed into jeans, tennis shoes and an oversized sweatshirt. I took the pins out of my hair to let it down. It flowed free to fall against the top of my shoulders, the soft waves framing my face. This was home and comfort. Phillip always loved my hair down and me in tight jeans. I usually bought a half size too small to wear at home just for him. Stupid, but he liked it and I liked that he liked it.

I walked into the den to look at his chair. I still smelled pipe smoke and it reinforced the fact that this was his room. The dark paneling, the soft leather desk chair, the working fireplace that he had converted to gas logs, the shutters on the windows that were partially open, letting in a soft light from the evening sun. He would always be there after dinner, finishing off some work from the bank. Just a few things, never a lot. He was good that way, never bringing his work and worries home.

Just past 5:15 and Phillip would be arriving. He was punctual, never early or late. Always right on time. He always came in, stopped in the kitchen to say something sweet and give me a kiss on the top of my head, then moved past to change into his casual clothes and then back to the living room and the paper. I stopped what I was doing, and moved to the doorway, seeing him in his favorite recliner, the paper open to the business section and him mumbling over the stock reports or the latest mergers. I smiled at the familiar sight and thought how lucky I was to have this. I truly had everything: a beautiful home, a man who loved me, two successful children on their own and making it in the world.

Dinner was always a discussion of the events of the day. We began with a rundown of my exciting adventures in the world of fashion, his latest problem-solving foray into the requests for more money from the local contractor remodeling the local restaurant, and finally to the world events and the failure of our government to fix the little things that bothered the average guy. This later really bothered Phil. He always took it personally when he saw the constant arguing of the politicians. But, not too personally. Just mildly pissed.

After dinner, I would wash, he would dry and we would decide what we were going to watch that evening on TV, or if we were going to go out the next night for dinner, or in general, our plans for the next few days. Phil was organized and I didn't mind. It was a pleasant time together.

We would finish up and then Phil would go to the den to finish his work while I made plans for grocery shopping, do some laundry and in general, organize my day. I worked four days a week, one of those on the weekend, so I had time to do those things. I remembered that I had to pick up some of Phil's suits from the laundry. Tomorrow, I'd do that. I also remembered that he wanted me to pick up a new battery for the camcorder at the Radio Shack in the mall. I wasn't in a hurry to do that since I never learned how to use it.

The evening passed with all new episodes of our favorite shows and I just enjoyed the mindless noise. I was tired tonight. I really just wanted to go to bed and try to catch up on my sleep. I had been restless the past several weeks, waking up often before turning over to try to go back to sleep. I knew what was bothering me but I didn't know how to fix it. I had made a mistake. A very bad mistake. As I started thinking of it again, it all came crashing back on me.

It was our twenty-fourth anniversary, and we had planned to go out to dinner, and then to a movie we both wanted to see. I had a new dress for the occasion, a neat little black thing that showed too much of me for comfort. But Phil loved me in it and I agreed to wear it for him. He was to pick me up at 7:15, in time for our reservations at Michael's. I expected a wonderful evening with a nice ending in bed with the man I loved.

At 7:10, Phil called to say he was going to be late. It seemed a client of the bank had just arrived in town and the President wanted Phil to take him to dinner. When I complained, Phil told me that this client was very important and his assets were vital to the bank. He had no choice. I was not convinced and I was furious with him. This was our anniversary. He pleaded with me for understanding but I was too angry to listen. He suggested we plan to do our dinner the following night but I wouldn't listen. As he attempted to placate me, all I responded with was my silence. We hung up, me angry at him still.

As I sat there fuming, I decided to ask Karen Hall to go with me to make use of the reservations and charge the evening to Phillip. Karen and Charles were our next-door neighbors and Karen was my best friend. When I called, I got Charles, Karen's husband. It seems that Karen was at her mother's house in nearby Silverton. I knew her mother had been ill but Karen didn't mention being there tonight. I told Charles that I wanted her to go with me to dinner but not to worry now. Charles wanted to know if I wanted him to go with me but I declined. Actually, Charles gave me the creeps sometimes. He seemed to always be trying to get a glimpse down my top or watching my ass as I walked by. Karen never commented on it so I let it go.

I hung up the phone and decided this night was going to be a bust. I poured myself a glass of champagne from the bottle I had chilling which was going to be for a toast before our evening began. I was about to raise my glass in sarcasm when Charles knocked on the back door. I let him in without thinking about it and offered him a glass of the champagne. He helped himself and we sat down at the kitchen table and toasted each other.

I was enjoying the champagne and the company and I began to feel a little warm. The glow from the champagne was pleasant and Charles was being pleasant and I let my guard down and told him about my aborted evening. I told him how I was hurt, how Phillip had let me down, how he had ruined my evening, and I mentioned with a leer that he wouldn't be receiving my charms that night in bed. We were laughing and drinking the champagne and I was feeling better. Charles was actually being good company. We continued to talk as we finished the bottle of champagne. I didn't notice that I drank most of it while Charles made sure my glass was never empty.

The bottle was now empty and it was getting late so I suggested it was time to call it a night. I was feeling tired from the champagne and the depression from the whole evening contributed to an overall lethargic feeling. I just wanted to go to bed and forget it for now. Maybe things would be better tomorrow. Charles rose to leave and I started to walk him to the door. I staggered a little and Charles put his arm around me to help me keep my balance. As I straightened up, he pulled me tight against him and kissed me hard on the mouth. I was so surprised that I think I responded without thought. His kiss was not all that unpleasant but I was not thinking too clearly. He dropped his hand down my back and pulled me against his body.

Before I knew it, we were upstairs and Charles was pushing me back against the bed. As the edge of the mattress hit my legs, I fell back and ended up sitting on the edge of the bed. I was still trying to understand what was happening when Charles unbuckled his belt and let his pants drop to the floor. For a second I just stared at the bulge in his boxer shorts. The whole thing happened in a fog but it was beginning to clear. I think my panic and my fear of what was going to happen burned away the fog of alcohol, and that was enough to shock me back into reality. I was about to push him away when I heard a roar.

"What the hell is going on here?" Get the hell away from my wife!"

Phil was standing in the doorway, having just come home. Not finding me, he had come upstairs looking for me. The face I now saw was a picture of fury.

Charles moved back quickly, releasing me and mumbling, "I'm sorry. I'm so damned sorry. I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry!" He yanked his pants up, stumbling as he tried to move away from Phil at the same time. He finally succeeded and rushed past Phil and down the stairs. I heard the door slam as he fled, leaving me there to face my husband.

I was stunned by what had happened and what Phil had witnessed. He couldn't know my thinking. He wouldn't know I was about to stop it. He would only know what he saw. Coupled with my anger at him earlier, his thoughts were obvious: I was going to have sex with Charles to punish him! I had to let him know that it wasn't what he thought it was.

"Phillip! Wait! This isn't what it looks like. You have to listen to me. It's not what you think!" I started toward him when he held out his hand, forcing me to stop. He said angrily, "I know exactly what it was. It was perfectly clear. You were angry with me so you decided to punish me."

"Phillip, no! No! Listen to me." I had to get through to him. But before I could say anything more, he turned and went back out the door into the garage. I went to stop him but as I opened the door, his car started and he backed out of the garage, his tires squealing as he sped down the driveway. He reached the street and pulled out and drove away. I could only stand there watching him drive out of my life. As I walked back inside, I heard only silence.

The memory of that night was still so clear. It was almost as if it was just happening, but I had to stop thinking about it! I decided to put it out of my mind now and just get ready for bed. It was past time and I had to open the store tomorrow so I needed to get up very early for that. Phil always wondered why I continued to work those hours when all I had to do was schedule myself to come in later. I was store manager so it was my call, but I felt if someone else had to do it, I would take my turn. He did understand that.

A nice hot shower, time to blow-dry my hair and then to bed. I finished, turned off the lights and climbed into my nice soft bed. Phil would always be there before me and he waited till the lights were off before reaching for me. I always put on just a touch of perfume to make myself more attractive to him, but it never seemed to be necessary. Even when we were both tired and so sleepy that we could hardly hold our eyes open, Phil would reach for me. Always.

Tonight, I turned out the light and lay there. I listened to the sounds of silence all around me. Those deafening sounds of silence that were now my constant companion. They began that last night, in that moment when he left the house after seeing what he saw and believing that I was about to be unfaithful to him. That night still played over and over in my mind during this dark time between wakefulness and sleep. His words to me promising to make plans for our anniversary the next night. The plea for me to understand. I heard him but was still feeling so sorry for myself about my disappointment that I didn't even answer him. I hung up on him after responding to his pleas with silence.

Phil didn't come back that night. I went to bed hoping he would call, but by morning I hadn't heard from him. I had gone to work then, hoping that Phil would call as soon as he felt ready to talk to me. I knew he would. He had to let me explain. I waited all day but he didn't call. I was just ready to leave the store for home when the phone call came. It was from the police and they told me Phil was killed in a car accident just hours before. He was dead on arrival at the hospital and they told me they could send a car for me. In my shock, all I could think of was that I hadn't had time to tell him how much I loved him and that I had never planned on cheating on him. I had planned on telling him at home that night. I needed to tell him! How could I tell him now? It wasn't right! It wasn't fair! I had to tell him!

That was my last thought before I collapsed. It was days before I could honestly say that I began to function again. Days before I accepted that my life had changed for the worse. Days before I knew I would never be able to tell him how sorry I was. Days before I began to live my life alone without the man I loved. Days before I tried to learn how to forgive myself. It was just a brief moment in time. It should not have been long enough to destroy my life! It was simply

a moment lost, forever gone

, and I couldn't change it.

I asked myself over and over again why I had let the situation with Charles develop as it did. Why had my anger made me let my guard down and put myself into a situation where Charles could get the wrong idea? Why had I been so angry? I had no answers, but I wished with all my heart that I could have had to time to try to tell Phillip what I was feeling. He would have been able to tell me what I did wrong. He was so smart, so understanding. He was my rock and he would listen to me and forgive me. He would! I know he would! But I couldn't ask him now or ever again.

Phil would never reach for me again in the dark after I turned out the lights for sleep. My perfume would never entice him and he would never cradle me to sleep while he whispered in my ear those precious secrets we shared. I could never tell him all I needed to, things he had to know and understand. He had to know that my life would never be the same again without him. But, all I heard in my restless dreams when the lights went out, when sleep began to approach and I cried out to Phillip to forgive me, was the

sound of silence

.