The Silent Game
At night, when the moon is sleeping behind those thick clouds, I count the invisible stars that are hiding somewhere in the immense sky. The window is large enough to reveal that there is nothing else out there, except darkness and something similar to eternity. I also imagine I am one of the stars; that I am suspended from a vast screen in the universe without worries or pains. But reality always hits me when my thoughts return on earth, and the only stars I can produce are those similar to that fading glow of my tears. And this night, like every night, these incomplete stars are falling from my burning eyes. The pain that I keep locked up in my heart wont stop beating me – it defeats me over and over again.
The clock is ticking on the wall, a little bit too loud as always, and I follow the second hand every time it moves. It drives me insane. It is deriding me; it knows that each second is everlasting to me. So I take hold of the first thing I find and throw it at the clock. It falls to the ground making an awful noise as it turnes into two flawed pieces - just as my soul. I feel somewhat confused about my action, but my relief in hearing the silence makes me realise that the annoying ticking is gone.
“And you, where are you?” I ask, looking at the ominous sky.
But as usual, as every night, I do not receive any response from you or from anyone else. The world is appallingly silent, as a vivid summer day experienced behind a soundproof wall, and I cannot help yearning for chaos and jovial cries.
I remember the first time I saw you; I had to hold my breath in that intoxicating moment of admiration. Your beautiful eyes were penetrating my heart, melting it so that it would never be the same again. It was love. And that was ten years ago, and my heart has been shaped by my love for you ever since. But two years ago something happened, something I decided to forget – and so I have.
My thoughts are interrupted by someone opening the door. I recognise the shoulders I used to cry on, those strong arms that used to hold me. But the face is unfamiliar. I once knew every line of it, but that was long ago, and now it is merely a shadow of vanished memories left in a dim corner of my mind.
“Why can’t you just stop blaming yourself?” the shadow asks me and I can see how it glances at the clock on the floor. “Just let it go and go on with your life like I’ve done.”
I turn away my head and refuse to respond; I only feel repugnance – repugnance against the effortless attitude towards moving on with life and against the presence of this shadow, which is more than dead to me. The revitalizing stars are my companions until I hear the familiar sound of a door closing behind a redundant soul, and then I continue to shed my tears inside this self-chosen cage of silence.
I slowly move away from the window and take a seat on the chair next to your treacherous bed. My hand is searching its way to your quiescent face but stops before touching it, instead it finds your cold hand and takes it with care as if it was made of thin glass. There is no reaction, as always, and I somehow know I am the one to blame.
And here I am, holding your hand while I watch you breathing, wondering where your thoughts are going and if you can feel my presence. Two years have passed by from the day when you fell asleep and I have left my thoughtless dreaming to you since I hardly sleep anymore. Those never-ending tubes make your beautiful face seem so violated and sad and I cannot stand the thought of you being alone with all these vital snakes. I wish you would have told me I should not be concerned about your silence, that your not answering me is just a game. And even though I am aware of the importance of having patience with adolescents my heart will not rest until it distinguishes your eyes or hears your voice.
I almost cannot remember anything from that day, except your smile and the last thing you said while showing your new toy: Look mum, look at me! And I did. And maybe a car came towards us - I do not remember - I know your father was screamning and then sirens from far away. You disappeared from me. But your father stayed as a living shadow, incapable of understanding that I will wait for you. And as your mother I cannot help but wondering – will you have the courage to tell me, once awake, where you have been all this time?
