Everyday silence

Merriam never understood the difference between her relationship with her husband and everyone else's relationships with their significant others. She was sure that the day she said yes to his proposal was one of the happiest days of her life—though if anyone would ask her to tell the story; she would have trouble remembering the details. She was sure that their wedding was one of the best days she'd ever had—but if anyone would ask her to describe how she felt; she wouldn't be able to do it. She didn't know where the love had gone, or if love had ever existed between her and her husband, Roger; but if she had to guess, she would say that the day the doctors told her she would never have a child was the day things between them changed. 1

Oh, at first, Roger was gentle, nurturing. He held her every night while she cried. He said things like, "surely there are other options" and "there are plenty of women who can't give birth to children" but none of this ever made Merriam feel any better about herself. 2

After a while, Roger stopped holding her every time she cried, he stopped coming home for dinner because he didn't want to have another conversation about what might have been. Some nights Merriam stayed up all night long and Roger never came home at all. She pleaded with him, promised she wouldn't mention the baby issue again if he'd only come home every night so she knew he was safe; and Roger promised her, if it would make her happy, to be home by dinner every night. 3

This was their routine every day for the next seven years. Every evening, Merriam cooked dinner, set the table, and she and Roger ate in silence. Then she would retire to her sewing room where she would sit and read or mend his clothes and he would lock himself in his study where he worked on business until the early hours of the morning. They rose very early in the mornings; they bathed and readied themselves for work in an elaborate dance of avoidance which they had perfected over the years. She cooked him breakfast, occasionally asking him how he wanted his eggs or if he would like another cup of coffee, and he always said the same things: "Scrambled. No." and they never looked at each other. He went off to his law firm and she to her flower shop, eyes never meeting, lips never touching, hands never clasping. They didn't even say good bye. 4

It was at work that Merriam could think. When the crowds had come and gone and when she could send her co-workers home for the day, she dared to put down her shears and contemplate what made her life so much different than everyone else's. These sorts of thoughts never would have come into her head except that it was mid-February and many men and women were buying bouquets for their loved-ones and she thought that she couldn't remember the last time Roger ever bought her flowers or took her out to eat nor did anything sweet for her. But this knowledge wasn't new to Merriam; she had known that her and Roger's marriage was different a long time ago. Every holiday that passed simply brought up the subject again and again, proving over and over in Merriam's mind how lifeless their relationship was. She felt positively alone and dejected every time a new customer came in to make a purchase. 5

--- 6

The middle of April changed Merriam's life in a very small way and in a very profound way. As she walked from her home to her work and back again she passed many small shops and coffee houses. Oftentimes she would look into the glass windows to see what was for sale but she never went into the stores to buy anything.  A new herb and organic health store had opened on the corner halfway between her home and her shop. Merriam would have passed right by it, except that some of the dried flowers looked like some of the things she sold in her own shop. She stopped and stared through the glass for a long time contemplating each bag of dried herbs individually. She ran the names over and over in her head, "thimbleweed, sage, baby's breath, dandelion, wolfsbane…" she read the names aloud noting that many of them had negative connotations in her mind with witchcraft. She was still staring at the wall of herbs and flowers when she heard a sharp voice beside her. 7

"Can I help you with something?" the young woman from the store had come from behind the counter to stand beside her. 8

"Oh, n—no! I was just… admiring your… supply. I own a flower shop just down the street…" Merriam had never stuttered in her life but, looking at the lady standing before her, she was truly taken aback. The young woman was shorter than Merriam, and had cropped, dyed black hair, with an ocean blue streak on either side of her face. Her lips and her nails were painted the color of her hair, and she was wearing a black, crushed-velvet gothic style top over a leather mini skirt. Her feet and lower legs seemed to be eaten by heavy, scuffed, black biker boots. She had a diamond stud in her nose, a ring in her eyebrow, and four other piercings in each ear. 9

"Well, imagine that!" the girl said, smiling a strange sort of smile. A smile that did not make Merriam's stomach settle itself from its initial shock. 10

"I'm sorry to trouble you. But I really must be going!" Merriam said and rushed away, eager to get to the safety of her shop and the plants and people she knew. 11

"If you ever need any thing… for anything… You just come to me, okay?" the girl called after her, but Merriam only waved her hand over her head in reply. 12

That encounter with the strange owner of the little shop did not stop Merriam from slowing her pace every time she passed the window. She would gaze through the glass and admire the collection of rare herbs and wonder at their function. She would imagine that some witch somewhere desperately needed one of them to complete a love potion or a spell that would help her pass her chemistry exam. She never stayed long enough to draw the owner out again but she was sure that the woman noticed her every time she walked by. 13

One evening, late in July, Merriam stayed late in her shop cleaning and rearranging her own display and by the time she closed up the sun had already sunk below the high horizon of the city. She knew that, for the first time in over seven years, she would be late for dinner; grabbing her things she quickly sprinted down the sidewalk towards her home. 14

When she came to the little shop that normally caused her to slow her pace she nearly collided with the shop keeper who had also decided to stay late that evening. Skidding to a stop Merriam wiped her brow and huffed an apology to the young woman who looked at her and smiled that same sort of mysterious smile. "I remember you," she said, cocking her head back which tossed her blue bangs above her brow. 15

"Yes," Merriam said, trying her best to be rid of the young woman without seeming rude, "we have met before, but I have to be going, I am late for dinner." 16

"The name's Jodi. I'll give you a ride if you want." The girl was quick in her reply, so quick, Merriam almost didn't catch it. 17

Thinking quickly, she accepted the young woman's offer, knowing that a car would get her home quicker than her feet would, "thank you," she offered once she'd caught her breath, "It's much appreciated." 18

The conversation lulled until both were seated in Jodi's car, but after the radio, which had been blaring punk rock, was cut off Jodi struck up conversation once again, "You never told me your name," she said, looking sideways at Merriam. 19

"My name is…Merriam Fitzgerald," she replied not looking at the driver. 20

"Merriam is such a prissy name. I would have offed myself a long time ago." Jodi was smiling but Merriam didn't think it was the least bit funny. "I see you're married. You going to dinner with the husband tonight? Is that why you're running down the street like a psycho bitch?" 21

Merriam hesitated, caught off guard by the language, but then deciding on the best cover she nodded. "Yes. I am late for dinner," she said. 22

"And you don't think your husband would understand?" Jodi was asking too many questions. 23

"No. My husband would never understand me," Merriam said before she could stop herself. Jodi didn't say anything for a while after that; she just stole side-long glances at Merriam and frowned and sped until she pulled into Merriam's driveway. 24

As Merriam opened the door to get out of the car, Jodi grabbed her wrist, her cold rings making goose bumps on the pale flesh of the older woman's arm. "Look. Men like your husband, they never know what they got till it's too late. I got some things—in my shop. Some things you could use it you want… want to teach him to respect you. To teach him to notice you. If that's what you wanted." Jodi kept her voice low but her tone was very much serious. Merriam didn't know how to respond; she felt like she was being offered drugs so she shook her head. 25

"I—I'm fine, really. My husband and I—we have a good relationship. There are just… Ah, you'd never understand." Merriam became flustered and shook her arm hard to release it from Jodi's grip. "I have to go," she stated and shut the car door and strode into her home. 26

Jodi hesitated for a moment and then backed out of the driveway. 27

--- 28

That evening, for the first time in seven years, dinner was not ready when Roger came home from work. He didn't speak to Merriam, didn't look at her directly. But she knew he was angry. She saw the looks of disgust and irritancy that were plastered all over his face. She felt his anger in his footsteps, which sounded as if he were throwing stone statues on their wooden floor. She jumped when she heard the door to his study slam shut and lock. She made his favorite meal that evening—at least—she made what meal she could remember his favorite being: Beef Stroganoff, homemade rolls, fresh vegetables. She fixed his place, filled his glass with his favorite red wine, and quietly knocked on the door to his study and told him that dinner was ready. 29

She waited an hour. An hour and a half. Two. Finally, he emerged from his study and he sat at his place at the table. Merriam worried that his food was cold and she went to reach for his plate to heat it up for him, but he snatched her hand away and snarled, "I'll eat it like it is. It's disgusting any way." 30

Merriam's look of shock could not be hidden and she stumbled back a few steps at his harsh words. "I'm sorry, I'll try harder next time." She said, blaming her lateness on her cooking folly. But Roger scoffed at her again. 31

"You're food is always disgusting. You can't cook at all. Do you honestly think that this is the only meal that you've messed up?" his voice was angry but level. 32

Merriam could say nothing. Her mouth hung open, hoping, desperately wishing to catch any stray words that might be floating around in the air, but there were none. He sucked them up like a vacuum cleaner. 33

"You disgust me," he continued. "I don't even know why I married you. You're worthless to me." 34

Merriam felt like crying but she knew that that would only make things worse, and besides, she was unable to cry at all. Something inside her echoed everything he said to her; she could not speak every little thing—she could not speak at all—but she hated how he snored so loudly it would keep her up at night. She hated how he would always leave messes and expect her to clean them up. She hated the way he would make a hacking sound when he coughed and how he would never go to the doctor when he was sick. But she could not tell him all of these things. 35

"I hate you," he said at last and threw down his fork and drank his wine in one long gulp. "You ruined my life." 36

Merriam jumped backward out of his way, as he stood from the table. He told her he was leaving and that he wouldn't be home that night so don't wait up for him. Grabbing his coat, briefcase, and keys, he slammed the door and left Merriam alone in the dining room. She didn't clean up after him. She didn't wash the dishes or put the left over food away. Instead, she went into her sewing room and sat in her rickety wooden chair and stared out her window into her flower garden. 37

As she gazed at the shapes of the flowers in the growing dark, she began to wonder if Roger was right. She thought about her worth. She thought about how she was unable to have children and how that had ultimately driven a wedge between the two of them. And she thought about Jodi, too. She thought about what Jodi had offered her before she'd shut her car door that evening. She wondered what the young woman could have in mind—what kind of plant could fix a broken marriage? She contemplated all of these things, and when the clock in the hall struck midnight, Merriam had made her mind up. Tomorrow she would ask Jodi about her offer. Tomorrow, she would do what ever it took to get her husband to take notice of her. Tomorrow—if it was the last thing she did—she would make Roger realize that she was not useless. 38

Merriam climbed into their bed and heaved a great sigh. She noted in her mind that even though she was alone in bed—alone in the house—things felt as if they were in order. "We are such strangers," she whispered to his pillows, running her hands along the seams, "I don't think we ever really knew each other." Turning out the light, Merriam closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. 39

The next morning, Merriam woke with the sun and was showered and dressed when her husband strode through the front door. She knew from his haggard look that he had been at the office all night long. 40

She hurried her pace and made herself presentable so that he could have the bedroom and bathroom to himself and she went to the kitchen. Finding the mess from the night before, she simply threw the dishes in the trash and pulled out new ones to cook breakfast on. Roger was in his pajamas when he returned to the dining room. "What's this mess?" he hollered and she didn't reply to him. She simply cracked an egg and began to fry it. "What did you do last night after I was gone?" he yelled at her from the other room and again, she didn't answer. "You're so lazy! I knew if I left you alone, you wouldn't do anything productive! Look at that time I spent in London ! I gave you time and money for college, and what did you do? Open a stupid weed stand!" The more he spoke, the angrier he became. Merriam still said nothing. 41

Roger stomped into the kitchen and grabbed Merriam by the shoulders and spun her around causing her to knock the frying pan off the stove and onto the floor, blistering her bare feet. "Answer me!" he bellowed in her face, and Merriam could only look at him. It was like being yelled at by someone she had never met before, she thought, like being mistaken for someone a stranger knew. She only stared hard at Roger's face, picking out his brown eyes, slanted with rage, and the mole on his left cheek. He had a long, straight nose, and thin, pale lips which were drawn tight with fury. Merriam did not recognize any of these features as those of the man she had married. 42

Roger growled, and shook her violently, then released her as though it were pointless to fight with so stupid a woman, and stormed out of the kitchen. Merriam quickly bent to care for her feet, which had been screaming in pain but which until now she had dared not bother with. She left the half cooked egg on the linoleum. 43

On her way to work she passed Jodi's herb shop, stopped and looked up at the herbs on display in the window, and without speaking to Jodi, who was on her way out, continued on her way to her own flower shop. 44

All day long, as customers drifted in and out, Merriam thought of her aching feet and of Roger's anger. She thought of many things to do to end their relationship or fix it. But many of those thoughts were fruitless. She couldn't ask for a divorce, because he was a lawyer and he knew how those things worked and would leave her with nothing but the clothes on her back. She couldn't leave because her parent's were dead, and her brother was working two jobs as it was just to get himself by on minimum wage—besides, she had no car, and no way of getting anywhere, and she had no idea where to go because the world was so big and she was so small and she was sure that it would just swallow her up. 45

Merriam was still contemplating her options when she closed her shop up and began to walk back toward her home. Passing once again by Jodi's little herb shop she hesitated and then stopped. She looked up at the wall for a moment and then grabbed the handle and crept into the little store. 46

It smelled of ginger and smoke. There were globe lights hanging from the ceiling and each of them shed a different hue into the space surrounding it. The walls were lined with what looked like bookcases full of vials and jars and vases. Merriam truly did not know where to look first. 47

Jodi looked up from her book and noticed the woman as she walked through the door. Smiling her same smile, she shut her text and slid it under the counter. "What can I help you with, Merriam?" she asked, addressing the older woman. 48

Merriam's attention turned sharply toward the woman behind the counter. "Jodi!" She exclaimed in surprise, "I was just… looking…I've never been in here before," she said in awe. 49

"You came for my offer, didn't you?" Jodi questioned, her eyes slanting. She walked around the counter and toward the back of her shop. "I have just what you need here. It's perfect for wives like you. I've sold quite a bit of it in my business," she said, perhaps to make Merriam more comfortable with the option she was about to be offered. 50

"What is it?" Merriam asked, watching as Jodi climbed a small ladder and pulled a jar from one of the top shelves. 51

"It's called oleander. Have you ever heard of it?" Jodi looked over her shoulder as she dismounted with the jar in hand. Merriam shook her head no. 52

"They grow in places like Asia and the Mediterranean . It has its medical purposes but wise-women, witches you'd call them, had better uses for it back in the day. Their leaves are toxic to human beings. Just seven leaves, crushed, their extracts brewed into a stew or a tea is all it takes—any less and they end up with what looks like the flu from hell. The ultimate symptom is a heart attack—quick and simple." Jodi sounded as though she were offering Merriam a recipe for chicken noodle soup. 53

Jodi had already placed several dried leaves in a bag before Merriam could find words. "Won't the police or doctors or somebody know? I'll go to jail." Merriam's voice was calm, calculatory. 54

"Don't worry. Doctors in this town don't bother with heart attack victims. And they won't do an autopsy unless you demand one." Jodi shrugged her shoulders as if she'd had this conversation a hundred times before. Jodi thrust the bag into Merriam's hand, "free of charge—I think every woman deserves a chance to break the silence," she said and smiled another one of her smiles. 55

Wordlessly, Merriam took the bag, stuffed it into her coat pocket, and nodded at the woman behind the counter. Her mind was blank as she walked from the little store she'd never before been inside. With every step she took toward her house, Merriam felt more and more confident in the plan. It was past her usual time when she arrived home, but she didn't care; she hadn't rushed because she hadn't wanted to hurt her feet any more than necessary. 56

"You're late. Where have you been?" Roger's voice echoed from his study. 57

Merriam thought about not answering, but instead replied, "I had a big order come in at the last minute. I'm sorry I'm late honey!" She tried to sound as cheerful as she could. He did not answer her for a long time. 58

Taking off her shoes and coat, Merriam slipped the tiny bag into one of the drawers in the kitchen. She ignored the morning's egg which was still drying on the floor and she began to chop vegetables for a homemade stew. 59

When she had all the ingredients in the large pot she slipped her fingers in the drawer where she'd hidden the leaves and pulled out the bag. Inside she found nine dried oleander leaves and she quickly laid them on her chopping board and chopped them into tiny pieces. She was scraping them into the pot when Roger walked into the kitchen. 60

"I thought I told you I hated your cooking," he said. His voice sounded choked; her cheerfulness before had had an impact on him. 61

"You will like this," she said looking at him and smiling as she imagined she would smile at her husband. "I am making it just for you." 62

Roger didn't reply, just stared at her for a minute and then glanced at the pot and then turned and walked out of the room. 63

He was sitting in the living room, watching TV, when Merriam called him to dinner. She had set both their places—had used the fine china—and she dipped the stew gently and poured it expertly into the bowls. 64

"What's all this?" Roger asked, pointing to the table dressings. "It's not our anniversary." 65

Merriam only smiled sweetly and said, "I feel like we haven't gotten our money's worth out of this set." She said. She didn't look at him. She thought she should have felt different about the whole situation, about what was going to happen after dinner. She had always imagined the bad guys in movies with guns and swords, shooting and stabbing their enemy to death. But she had never been bad guy and she had never held a gun or a sword. She supposed that was what made the whole situation easier for women. It was something they were familiar with. Oleander could be overlooked as just another seasoning. 66

She waited until he sat and she poured his wine and then took her seat across from him. He did not hesitate, but tasted the stew without even blowing the steam from the spoon. Merriam could not watch him; she only heard the sounds his teeth made as they collided together—chewing the potatoes and meat. She heard him swallow and clear his throat and take a sip of his wine. 67

"This tastes weird. You really are an awful cook," he muttered. "I'd starve if I didn't suffer through it." 68

Merriam didn't look up at his retort. She just stared down at her own volatile mixture in silence. When he was finished he asked for a second bowl and she served him. This time her hands were shaking and she spilled some onto the lacy tablecloth. 69

"Damn, woman! Watch what you're doing!" Roger cried, sickened. 70

Merriam apologized in her sweetest voice and used her napkin to dab the little gravy spot up. She could not bear to sit in the same room while he ate his second and third bowls of stew. She stood in her kitchen wringing her hands. 71

Soon, she heard the clatter of a spoon against an empty bowl, and a wooden chair against a hardwood floor. Roger was finished. He told her he was going into his study and not to bother him. She didn't reply, because he always said this to her, and began to dump the rest of the stew into the trash. 72

She heard the door to his study slam closed, but it didn't lock. 73

The kitchen was a mess but Merriam didn't care. She went into her sewing room and sat in her rickety chair by her window and stared at the shapes of her plants in the dark and waited. 74

Soon, there came strange noises from Roger's study. Several loud thuds and muffled utterances attracted Merriam's attention and she turned her head toward her sewing room door. The door to his study slammed open and Roger stumbled out clasping his chest. "Merriam! Where are you? Merriam!" His voice was panicked. Her heart skipped a beat. 75

"I'm here!" she called, and ran like a dutiful wife to her husband's side. 76

"Merriam! I think I'm…. having a he—heart attack…" Roger gasped. Merriam reached out to her husband and walked him into the living room lying him down on the couch. 77

"I'll call for help," she said, but of course she knew she wouldn't. 78

"Merri—" Roger never finished her name before his eyes fluttered and rolled back into his head and his hand relaxed at his chest and he ceased gasping for breath. 79

Merriam sat next to her husband for a long time. She looked him over from head to foot; she checked his pulse; she listened for his breathing; she watched to see if his chest would rise and fall. None of these things happened. Jodi had been right—her plan had succeeded. Heaving a deep sigh of relief, Merriam began to speak to Roger. She began to speak the words she had wanted to for so long, "You and I, we didn't know each other. I don't even know why we were married. I can't even remember our wedding anymore. I was never happy with you and you never satisfied me. You were like living with a monster that I could never escape from. We've been battling for years, Roger. Waging a war of silence. Tonight was the final battle, and I won. There'll never be another silent dance in the mornings because I'm so afraid of touching you or speaking to you or letting you see me naked. There'll never be any more cooking for you even though you hated my meals. Oh, Roger, you hated them, but you ate them anyway! There'll never be any more yelling. I'm sick of you, I hate you, and I'm through with you Roger. I'm through with this marriage and I'm through with this life. I want a divorce."  Merriam's thoughts flooded together. Years and yeas of unsaid things sprung forth from dark recesses she had not known existed. And when she was finished she didn't understand exactly why she got angry when he didn't respond. 80

She stood from her place beside him on the couch and walked into their bedroom. She tugged an old black suitcase from the top of her closet, and packed a few sets of clothes inside of it. She gathered up a few personal things—jewelry her parents had given her, letters from her brother, old photographs of friends—and she slipped on a pair of worn flip flops she'd had since before the two of them had gotten married. Tugging at the ring on her finger, she laid it down on her pillow without looking back. She didn't look at Roger as she walked through the living room. She stopped only when she got to the front hall to grab her coat and Roger's keys. She threw her suitcase in the back seat of his Lexus, and climbed into the driver's side. A smile crept across her face as she slipped the key into the ignition and it did not cease when she backed out of the drive way or when she passed the herb shop or her own flower shop. She wore that smile all the way to the city limit sign. She didn't know where she was going to go or what was going to become of her but she knew what she was looking for, and she wasn't going to stop until she found it. 81