Marked with Silence

I was dreading dinner.

I had been dreading it before, but now that Sapphira and I weren’t on the best of terms, I couldn’t even imagine how it was going to turn out now.

Probably in a disaster.

I wasn’t ready to apologize. I wasn’t ready to say that I totally trusted her with Max, because I didn’t, or to say that I was fine with her keeping secrets, because I wasn’t, or to say that everything was fine, because I couldn’t.

I just wasn’t ready.

My mom made me dress up. So I was wearing grey dress slacks with a white collared long-sleeve shirt and a lavender tie.

I stood in front of the mirror and sighed. It was going to be a long night.

I went downstairs, relieved to find my mom in the kitchen putting spaghetti and meatballs on serving plates. I had to beg her to not try impressing with pancit (mainly because I reminded her that there was a great chance that her pancit sucked in comparison to Mrs. Chadney’s and that Sapphira’s uncle was, in fact, white).

“Oh, geeze, Jerome. It’s about time,” my mom exclaimed. “Could you get the garlic bread out of the oven and then slice it?”

I nodded and made my way to get oven mitts. By then, Danny was finished setting the table with our gold-rimmed plates and appeared by my side.

“I hate wearing this shirt,” he pulled and the collar of his white shirt. “It’s itchy. I blame you.”

“Sorry, Danny,” I breathed a meaningless apology. “Behave tonight, okay? Don’t talk unless someone speaks to you, and only if you replying with words is absolutely necessary. I have enough to worry about tonight as it is.”

He turned around and walked away while saying, “What’s up his butt?”

I shook my head as I placed the bread on the counter and picked up a knife. Then my dad walked in.

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” I muttered when I see him clad in full uniform.

I shot a look over to my mom.

“What happened to the shirt and tie I laid out, sweetie?”

He shrugged, “I didn’t feel like changing.”

“I told you this dinner was important to me,” I said to him.

“As long as I’m here, right?” was his response.

I couldn’t remember the last time my dad and I got along. There wasn’t anything more to him than being in the army—it made up his entire demeanor. I’m pretty sure that he loved his job more than anything—more than his wife and definitely more than me. He didn’t know how else to be. Because of that he and I hardly talked. And it wasn’t just because I hated him for all of the goodbyes he had forced me to make; he couldn’t relate to me as his son. His relationship with Danny was a lot better. My mom had pushed him to not screw things up with him as he did with me. They played catch and shot hoops; we had a bunch of different sports balls and equipment.

I hated sports.

The doorbell rang, and as if choreographed, my mom and I stopped what we were doing and looked each other in the eyes.

“Paul, get the door.”

My mom used the time to finish putting the food on the table and I rushed to finish slicing the bread. We were standing in the foyer just as my dad opened our front door.

Sapphira was standing in front, carrying a chocolate cake that nearly matched the brown pea coat that she was wearing. There wasn’t even a hint of a smile on her face. Something in my stomach turned when I could tell behind the make-up that she was more distraught than usual. I was surprised at that instance by how much my anger faded.

“Hello,” my dad greeted. “Please, come in.”

My mom stepped up to atone for the lack of enthusiasm in his voice, “Hi! I’m so glad that you could make it. I’m Elizabeth, and this is my husband Paul.” She turned her shoulder to where Danny was standing, “That’s my youngest Danny, and of course you already know Jerome.”

Mrs. Chadney went to shake her hand, “I’m Lorna Chadney. And this is my husband Bill,” she smiled.

“Thank you very much,” my mom replied when Sapphira handed her the cake. “Jerome, take their coats.”

I went to Sapphira last on purpose. Like I had anticipated, the adults drifted to the dining room after I had taken the Chadney’s coats.

I stood behind her and my fingers brushed her bare shoulders as I helped her out of her coat.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Sapphira whispered as soon as I went to face her.

All the walls came down. Something was wrong. And the semantics of who apologized first didn’t matter.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” she replied quickly. “It’s just…Max isn’t going to be leaving anytime soon.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting that. “You want him to stay, don’t you?”

“I know you know,” she said evenly. “Max told me that he gave you a synopsis of what I was like last year. I owe him so much. I can’t tell him to leave.”

“Yes you can,” I refuted. “He told me he would leave as soon as you didn’t want him here.”

“I don’t know if I want him to go.” A lump formed in my throat.

“They’re probably wondering what’s taking so long,” I tried to avoid the situation and began to walk backwards.

“Why is this such a big deal?”

My feet stopped moving before I nearly charged back towards her. I couldn’t believe her question. I got so close that my chin was nearly directly above the tip of her nose. “Because he still loves you,” I said with frustration. “And he wants to get you back because he’s still in love with you. Now, I know that you love him. I’m just not sure who you’re in love with: me or him.”

She shut her eyes tightly, “You fell in love with me, didn’t you?”

I swallowed and said slowly, “Yeah, I did.”

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

I stared at her for a while, with the most dumbfounded look on my face. I didn’t think that she would swoon when I told her, but her words were harder than I could take.

“We told each other that we were afraid of the other hurting us,” she whispered. “Love? Love guarantees that someone gets hurt.”

“So…what? I was just someone to screw around with?”

Her eyes softened, “Of course not.”

“Then what was I, Sapphira?”

She sniffled, “My last attempt.”

My eyebrows furrowed, “At what?”

She walked around me and made her way to the dining room.

“Some kind of happiness.”