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Cold Silence
unedited
Her presence comforts me.
"Even death can't do us apart," I toasted, taking the bottle of gin to the head. It has been a hard day at work with angry customers shouting every second. The pandemic made it worse and gave people a reason to delight in their anger. And coming home was becoming a job in itself. I lay my head against the headrest while contemplating if I should sit here a little longer and take another shot. Deciding against it, I put the bottle under the passenger seat of my old reliable Honda before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I looked up, admiring the dark skies with no stars shining. It was quite amusing how it was representing my mood lately. It was becoming my ritual to leave work, take a drink, and go into the house of coldness. The house hasn't been the same since my dear Abby left. The warmth that used to welcome me, the smell of her special chicken that she smothered with garlic that she used to make, would no longer greet me at the door. I wiped my tears that were starting to escape my eyes before shaking back the happy memories. I hesitate to put the key in the door, cherishing when we brought this house, it was supposed to be the foundation for laughter and sweet memories, but now it was like walking into a battle. I strolled in, seeing my favorite companion sitting in the same spot as always. The same brown hair was hanging wildly as the coldest blue eyes that looked like stone stared back at me.
"How are you today, dear ? " I loosen up my tie, throwing it on top of the pile of unwashed clothes.
The silence was thick and cold, reminding me of prison bars.
“Well, it couldn’t have been as bad as the day I had,” I laughed for a second, rubbing my hands through my hair.
“Did you at least make an attempt to cook today?”
I asked the same questions every day and always was left with the same response. Sometimes I wondered if it was because she knew that my heart had stopped breathing, or was it that she was just too lazy to speak back. I went to the kitchen, grabbing the leftover Chinese food from the refrigerator.
It was the same thing I have daily, maybe because when Abby was around, she would never allow me to eat this filth. I put the food in the microwave.
“You could have at least cleaned up the house.”
I looked at the dishes with dried up food filled up in the sink as roaches scattered across the counter top. It was becoming expected that this house would be a mess, and the powerful and disturbing smell that was starting to rise from this would certainly agree.
“It's a good thing you are beautiful,” I joked more to myself. I took the food out of the microwave, walking back to the living room. There was no clean spot to sit so I made a spot next to her, I knew she wouldn’t answer if I asked her if she had eaten yet. I wished the words could form on my lips that my heart was unconscious, but I still love her. But then, I would have to admit that she is in a battle that she can't win against an apparition. I let my fingers caress her leg, feeling it stiffen up as her emotions have become. I moved my hands away from her like I was touching a burning stove.
"Oh Well."
I turned on the television, hoping to drown out our quiet storm. I stared at her, shaking my head. I felt a migraine coming on from this tense environment, after a day at work I should come home to some kind of affection, even a hello wouldn't hurt.
“I would not be ignored in my own damn house,” I jumped up, dropping my rice and chicken to the floor. I could feel my anger rising.
“This is enough of this foolishness,” I went to grab her, suspecting a scream or reaction like many times before. But she stood there stiff with the evidence of the day that she stopped speaking. I rubbed my eyes, looking at my beloved Abby. My finger ran across the black thread that I used to sew her sinful red lips up as I stared into the same cold blue eyes. I brushed my fingers against her to straighten out the red polka dots dress that she had on, it used to look so vulgar to me, but now I see why it was her favorite dress. Everything was the same from the day she threatened to leave me, the day that I wrapped my hands around her throat and kept the promise that even in, a death she belonged to me. She would never understand
that her presence comforts me, even if it is stiff and cold.
© All Rights Reserved
Her presence comforts me.
"Even death can't do us apart," I toasted, taking the bottle of gin to the head. It has been a hard day at work with angry customers shouting every second. The pandemic made it worse and gave people a reason to delight in their anger. And coming home was becoming a job in itself. I lay my head against the headrest while contemplating if I should sit here a little longer and take another shot. Deciding against it, I put the bottle under the passenger seat of my old reliable Honda before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I looked up, admiring the dark skies with no stars shining. It was quite amusing how it was representing my mood lately. It was becoming my ritual to leave work, take a drink, and go into the house of coldness. The house hasn't been the same since my dear Abby left. The warmth that used to welcome me, the smell of her special chicken that she smothered with garlic that she used to make, would no longer greet me at the door. I wiped my tears that were starting to escape my eyes before shaking back the happy memories. I hesitate to put the key in the door, cherishing when we brought this house, it was supposed to be the foundation for laughter and sweet memories, but now it was like walking into a battle. I strolled in, seeing my favorite companion sitting in the same spot as always. The same brown hair was hanging wildly as the coldest blue eyes that looked like stone stared back at me.
"How are you today, dear ? " I loosen up my tie, throwing it on top of the pile of unwashed clothes.
The silence was thick and cold, reminding me of prison bars.
“Well, it couldn’t have been as bad as the day I had,” I laughed for a second, rubbing my hands through my hair.
“Did you at least make an attempt to cook today?”
I asked the same questions every day and always was left with the same response. Sometimes I wondered if it was because she knew that my heart had stopped breathing, or was it that she was just too lazy to speak back. I went to the kitchen, grabbing the leftover Chinese food from the refrigerator.
It was the same thing I have daily, maybe because when Abby was around, she would never allow me to eat this filth. I put the food in the microwave.
“You could have at least cleaned up the house.”
I looked at the dishes with dried up food filled up in the sink as roaches scattered across the counter top. It was becoming expected that this house would be a mess, and the powerful and disturbing smell that was starting to rise from this would certainly agree.
“It's a good thing you are beautiful,” I joked more to myself. I took the food out of the microwave, walking back to the living room. There was no clean spot to sit so I made a spot next to her, I knew she wouldn’t answer if I asked her if she had eaten yet. I wished the words could form on my lips that my heart was unconscious, but I still love her. But then, I would have to admit that she is in a battle that she can't win against an apparition. I let my fingers caress her leg, feeling it stiffen up as her emotions have become. I moved my hands away from her like I was touching a burning stove.
"Oh Well."
I turned on the television, hoping to drown out our quiet storm. I stared at her, shaking my head. I felt a migraine coming on from this tense environment, after a day at work I should come home to some kind of affection, even a hello wouldn't hurt.
“I would not be ignored in my own damn house,” I jumped up, dropping my rice and chicken to the floor. I could feel my anger rising.
“This is enough of this foolishness,” I went to grab her, suspecting a scream or reaction like many times before. But she stood there stiff with the evidence of the day that she stopped speaking. I rubbed my eyes, looking at my beloved Abby. My finger ran across the black thread that I used to sew her sinful red lips up as I stared into the same cold blue eyes. I brushed my fingers against her to straighten out the red polka dots dress that she had on, it used to look so vulgar to me, but now I see why it was her favorite dress. Everything was the same from the day she threatened to leave me, the day that I wrapped my hands around her throat and kept the promise that even in, a death she belonged to me. She would never understand
that her presence comforts me, even if it is stiff and cold.
© All Rights Reserved
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