Marked with Silence

My mom offered to pay for whatever I was going to get Sapphira, but I had to find something first.

The mall that we were at was a lot more impressive than the one we went to in Arkansas. It had four floors—each tiled in a shiny white—and each store looked appealing with artful displays and attractive signs.

“I have no clue what to get her,” I confessed to my mom.

She patted my shoulder, “Let’s just walk around and you can see if any of the stores catch your eye. We have time; your dad isn’t going to be home for a while.”

I nodded and scrutinized the stores that we passed by.

“What does she like?”

I gripped the back of my neck, “Uh, I don’t know too much about her, Mom.”

“You’ve been in her room, Jerome. That’s pretty personal.”

I tried to visit the memory of when I had first seen Sapphira’s room, “I think she likes color. Like, really bright and vivid colors. And she had posters on her walls, so she must be in to music.”

“Do you know which bands?”

I sighed, “I don’t remember.”

“What about perfume?” My mom suggested a few seconds later. I followed her gaze to see that we had just passed a Macy’s, whose fragrance section was located in the front of the store.

I shook my head, “I don’t think she’s the type to want to smell good for others.”

My mom cocked her head, “She stinks?”

“No,” I said before chuckling. “Sapphira just…well, she doesn’t aim to make an impression,”

She smiled, “You really like this girl, don’t you?”

I nodded.

“Enough for you to want a commitment?”

My mom had been pushing me to get serious with girls for a few years now. She was worried that the moving had permanently caused me to keep my heart well guarded.

“I can actually see myself be with her. I actually want to take that risk on her.”

My mom beamed and she engulfed me in a right hug, “Let’s find that perfect present.”


“Forty dollars for a stuffed animal,” my mom mumbled again on the ride home.

I shook my head, “I offered to pay for it. I know it’s a lot of money.”

“It isn’t about the money, Jerome. It’s about what the amount of money got us: a stuffed moose in a tuxedo.”

I chuckled, “Yes, yes, Build-a-Bear is way overpriced. But who can resist a moose in a tuxedo?”

“Someone without a heart,” she replied, making me remember the words I had said to Sapphira.

I looked down into the stuffed animal in my hands and adjusted its red bowtie, “Hopefully this will make up for it.’


Sapphira practically jumped at the chance to make our last group meeting at my house. I had texted her, saying that it was no longer a disarray of cardboard boxes and piles of clothing. She almost immediately texted back her agreement.

My mom was ecstatic that she was finally going to meet her. I was slightly afraid of how Sapphira would react. My mom would be taking both of us to our house, and in our station wagon, I didn’t think there would be enough air to fill in the empty spaces Sapphria would surely make. I wondered if her silence rule only applied to people her age. Would she dare not respond to my mom as well?

She and I agreed that after the last bell she would come to my locker after gathering her things. I feared the inevitable awkwardness. The last week had passed by with minimal contact. As anxious as I was to reconcile with her, I was dreading the steps to get there.

She arrived at my locker, her bottom lip between her teeth and her books tightly held between her arms and chest. I offered to carry them for her, she only hugged them tighter.

I had to keep reminding myself that it wasn’t me. That I, believe or not, was the only person in this school receiving any sort of attention from her. And that thought just barely kept my self-esteem level from plummeting.

We got strange looks as we walked towards the school exit. They were thinking, ‘What’s he doing with her?’ Or maybe it was more, ‘What’s she doing with him?’ I couldn’t really tell. She was still ‘that quite girl,’ and I was still ‘the new guy.’ My title wouldn’t fade until the next year, and I might not even be here to finally get a name.

Would Sapphira’s fade if she suddenly started speaking?

The stares only stopped once we hit the curb, where we could no longer see people with questioning eyes.

And as I waited for my mom, she shifted her weight to one foot so that our shoulders touched. I thought, If I could walk with her everywhere, everyday, as something more, I would more than gladly take their silent judgments.’