Silence pt.1

What silence can represent in a relationship.

A sudden crash followed by muffled shouts, as if something made of glass fell on the floor and broke into tiny pieces. They looked up, both startled by the loud noise that came from the apartment next door. They exchanged dissatisfied glances. 

"I told you these youngsters were bad news", the woman said arrogantly, sipping on her green tea. Her long grey hair was pulled up in a braided bun even though it was Sunday morning. She gently placed the hand-painted cup on its matching plate whose floral pattern featured shades of blue atop an ivory background, and then wiped off the mark her YSL Camel Croisiere rouge left on the brim of the teacup with a tip of her thumb. Her nails were short, squared and painted a pale chocolate brown colour. Pleased with her appearance, she smiled, her thin lips going up for a quarter of second.

The man folded the newspaper he had been reading a moment ago and cleared his thoat. "You are too stern", he spoke in a hushed voice, displeased with his usual morning routine being interrupted with this insignificant chit chat.

His wife stood up and straightened her beige dress. "I wonder what is happening." 

He sighed. He definitely was not interested in the life of his neighbours. 

She walked over to the wall separating the apartments and leaned closer so she could hear their conversation more easily.

"The girl is telling him she did not expect this to happen", his wife informed him. 

"What?" he asked.

She shushed him. "I can not hear anything while you are talking."

The man scratched his beard refraining from commenting her behavior. He was well aware she would consider his disapproval offending and he would, therefore, end up spending the night on the couch. And his back could not take another night on that goddamned brown leather couch his wife had picked out ten years ago.

"I hear footsteps, he or she is pacing up and down their kitchen", she turned around so she could look him straight in the eye. "I think they had a fight. Maybe they decided to end their relationship."

"Well we expected that sort of thing."

"I agree, you cannot live together before you marry someone. It is sinful, and God punishes sinners."

The man rolled his eyes. He didn't believe in this nonesense. He lost his faith years ago, somewhere around the time he had to marry his wife. Had to, he did not have to, but it was proper behavior, it was...decent. She was pregnant at the time with his child...as far as he knows. He shook his head clearing his thoughts. He musn't think of his wife like that. The truth was, he was in love, head over heels. The only problem was, he was deeply in love, but with another woman. Isabella. An immigrant from Spain, a beautiful dark-haired girl with eyes whose coulour was almost like honey, warm and equally sweet. He would still sometimes dream of her...so vividly, so lively, he would wake up in a pool of sweat hearing her voice whispering "te amo, mi amor." They knew their relationship would have been frowned upon, so they decided to keep it secret. But after he got married...he never saw her again.  

"He is apologising", his wife continued, "I can't quite hear what he is saying. They are both silent. Again, footsteps, the doors are opening and closing. Silence."