I walk into my home and it’s dark. Not the kind of darkness that comes along with midnight, but a darkness that foreshadows doom. I’ve felt this feeling before; when Belle was in danger on the traintracks or when Sami was thrown through the glass doors at the mansion. It was never something I voiced out loud, more a feeling deep in the pit of my stomach that nagged and nagged until I finally found out what was wrong in the first place.
But I have also felt this when things were off; usually in my marriage. The house has been silent for some time now. Have you ever actually listened to the sound of silence? There is so much you can hear in those moments. The walls moaning, the floorboards creaking. There is an air that is brought about by the silence, almost dead, lingering. But tonight the only sound of silence I hear is the song, a favorite of John’s every since I made him watch The Graduate years earlier. Hearing this song, however, can’t be good news. It’s a song he’ll only listen to when things get rough, when something is bothering him that he just can’t seem to voice. When the sound of silence seems to be the only thing heard.
I debate whether to walk upstairs and know I must if I want to sort out the broken pieces of my life. The lyrics meet me as I stand outside our bedroom, standing lifeless for a moment. There is something so sensual about the song that just makes me close my eyes for a moment. I breathe in the words and I can’t help but smile as I hear my husband singing along. His voice is terrible but yet hearing him almost makes me believe everything will be okay. And so I continue to stand, listening, realizing that the words truly do sum up our life, that maybe John isn’t just singing but sending a prayer to someone who could hear him.
Hello, darkness, my old friend
I’ve come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision
That was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence …
I open my eyes and inhale, opening the door to the room which houses so many memories. I watch my husband for a moment, his eyes closed, his lips parted as if he is about to lean in and kiss me. I sit down on the bed, the extra weight causing the mattress to sink and John to open his eyes.
“Hi,” he says softly, his hand extending as if he is about to touch me. But he doesn’t, I don’t think he can. Not yet.
“Hi.”
It remains quiet aside from the soothing voices of Simon and Garfunkel. I lift my feet onto the bed, crossed legged and innocent. I feel like a child, anticipating story-time, although the only story I am about to hear is the one of my life. And sometimes I don’t think I ever want to relive it. John stares at me for a moment, our eyes holding a conversation all on their own and I feel as if I have to say something. Anything. And the only thing that comes to mind is something that surprises us both.
“Are you happy?”
He doesn’t answer for a minute, instead sits up, moving an inch closer to me. He looks down at the comforter that has graced the bed before the two of us even managed to find a life together again, and finds a loose thread, something to keep his hands busy.
“I used to be. And it’s not that I’m not now. I just feel that something is … I don’t know–“
“Missing,” I finish. “Me too.”
He looks up at me with these deep blue eyes and I cringe, remembering just how much I love this man. The lyrics seem to speak for us once again, as if the beauty of the words just can’t be spoken over.
In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
Beneath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed
By the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence …
“Marlena, do you want a divorce?”
I stare at him and almost have to laugh at his absurdity. “John, of course not! It’s not even something I thought about. There are just some things that have been off between us lately.” I lower my head, strands of hair falling in my eyes. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“When did we get like this?” I look back up, this time reaching for him. I need to know he is still there, that he is still mine despite the emotional distance between us. “When did it start to happen? The lack of communication? Of contact? There used to be days where you couldn’t go hours without making love to me,” I wipe a tear escaping down my cheek, “and now I can’t even remember the last time you touched me. You used to grab my hand in the middle of nowhere just because you wanted to be close. And you used to surprise me because you knew it infuriated me, yet I couldn’t resist it. Why has it been so long since any of this has happened?”
John sighs from deep inside him, rubbing his thumb over my skin. “I don’t know why. You mean the world to me, Marlena, and sometimes … sometimes I feel that protecting you is the most important thing and I’ll forget that the most important thing I could do to protect you is just to love you.”
“You never used to forget. When we thought you were Roman, you were the most amazing man I had ever known. You were passionate and loyal and devoted. And yes, you’ll all those things now, but not in the same way. Sometimes I think that being married this long has bored you. Or made you see a side to me that you don’t like or–“
“Do you actually believe that? God, I love everything about you, Marlena. This is about me. I can’t fail you again.”
Hearing this surprises me and I tighten my grip on John’s hand. “When have you ever failed me?” I ask, softly.
John gives me a small smile. “Shall I count the ways?” He teases, a reminder of our honeymoon that seems ages ago. But I know he isn’t joking and so I urge him to continue, wanting to do anything to take the pain evident in his voice. “I let Orpheus take you away from me. I believed you were dead because everyone told me, even though deep down I knew it wasn’t true. You came back to me and I was with someone else. I failed to find you the minute Stefano took you. I slept with Hope, I let Brady lose control, and I let you believe for even a minute that I didn’t love you.”
“John, that’s not failure. That’s life. And besides,” I smile lightly, “I never thought you didn’t love me.” I stop for a moment, knowing what I want to say, but lost once again in the silence. The song has ended, the lyrics still lingering as dead as air in the room. “Do you remember that night on the plane? When Belle was conceived?”
He smiles wider this time, surely recalling that night in his mind. “Of course I remember.”
“The repercussions of that night still haunt me sometimes. Don’t get me wrong, Belle means everything to me, but I used to wonder what would have happened if that night never happened. And the more I think about it, the more I realize it was meant to happen. Because that night wasn’t about sex, it wasn’t even about Belle. It was about the need to hold onto something that you thought was lost forever. I never expected to lose control like that, I never expected to touch you again, aside from a simple handshake or a kiss on the cheek. But that night, everything between us was let out in the open. Not by words, but by passion. When we made love, it was the first time in a long time I felt whole. You filled up my body with so much love and I guess what I’m trying to say is that’s what we’re lacking. That passion, that need to hold on as if the world was going to end.”
And in that moment, John pulls me closer, our mouths closing together, sharing a secret no one else is allowed to know. With my eyes closed I can feel the moisture pooling beneath my lids. This is what I have been waiting for. A kiss with passion the way it used to be. He pulls away, his hand soothing the goosebumps that has settled on my arms.
“I love you,” he whispers, his face mere inches from mine, his warm breath against my skin. “And I’m–“
“Shh,” I mutter, covering my finger over his moist lips. I don’t want him to apologize, which I know he is about to do. All I want is the man I married all those years ago and through his eyes I can see that he is. That tonight is the start of something new, something diverse.
And as the sound of silence endures, it’s different this time. It’s not the feeling of doom I dreaded earlier. It’s the feeling of a clean slate, of a new morning. It’s the silence of knowing that sometimes there just are no words.
LYRICS INCLUDED: THE SOUND OF SILENCE BY SIMON AND GARFUNKEL
The Jarlena Journal 