After Silence

by Jonathan Carroll

  “Max! You’re back!”

  Lost in thought, I hadn’t heard the door close. Turning, I felt small arms grab me from behind and hold tight.

  “Max, where have you been? I missed you so much! Did you see my “Paper Clip” statue? I made it for you. You know who it is? You like it?”

  I took him in my arms and closed my eyes as tight as I could. That way the world stayed outside a moment. Besides, I had begun to cry as soon as I knew it was him. There was no way to stop it.

  “I like it very much, Linc. It’s the perfect welcome-home present. I’m really happy to be back.”

  “Me too! We didn’t do anything while you were gone. But we talked about you a lot.”

  “Really? That’s great.”

  He pulled away and looked up at me. “You’re crying?”

  “Yup, ‘cause I’m so glad to see you.”

  He grabbed me again and hugged harder. “You’ll stay home now, won’t you?”

  I nodded, holding him to me, rocking us back and forth. “Yes, I’m here now.”

  “Max, I’ve got a lot to tell you. Remember that kid Kenneth Spilke I told you about? The kid who threw the chalk at me?”

  Through a fog of jet lag, love, and concern about how I would react when I saw his mother, I listened as Lincoln unrolled the carpet of his life since I had been gone. So much had happened! A pitched playground battle with Kenneth Spilke over a girl, a telephone conversation with that same girl about kids they both hated, and a test in school on the digestive system, then two lousy meals Lily had cooked one right after the other when he had specifically told her he didn’t want broccoli again… It was great to hear him toot on about these matters. I watched and listened to him with full attention. If only life forever could be these minutes, full of fifth-grade news and expectancy about when his mother would be home. Ironically, other times I would have listened with only half an ear to this wrap-up, the other half for an opening door. Now he had it all because he was the only normal left in my life.

  “And what’s up with your mama?”

  “I told you, she cooked these two gross meals—”

  “No, I mean what else? What’s she been doing?”

  He shrugged and licked his tongue back and forth over his teeth. “I don’t know. Working, I guess.”

  I would’ve taken that as sufficient if I had not happened to look up and see the expression on his face. Lincoln wasn’t good at hiding things. He was too open and friendly; wanted you to know what was going on in his life.

  “What, Linc? What is it?”

  He glanced at me, couldn’t keep his eyes there, looked away. It made me frown. “What’s the matter?”

  “I didn’t know if you’d come back.”

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. I thought maybe you were leaving us for good.” His voice got much louder. “I mean, why should you stay around? Maybe you don’t like us anymore or something.”

  “Lincoln, why are you saying this? Where did you get the idea—”

  “I don’t know. It was just kinda surprising when you went away like that. Zippo and you were gone. How was I supposed to know?”

  “Because I would never do that to you. I would never just walk out on you. I’m your friend. Friends don’t do that to each other.”

  I gestured for him to come and sit on my lap. We talked some more but I could barely follow what he was saying because my mind was working so fast.

  “Max?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Did you bring me anything from New York?”

  “Sure! Sure I did. How could I forget? Come on.” I went to my suitcase and got out the T-shirt and basketball sneakers I’d bought him in New Jersey.

  “You got ‘em, Max! They’re exactly what I wanted. Oh, you’re great! Thank you!”

  It’s so easy to win a kid’s heart with presents. He’d been wanting the trendy shirt and shoes a long time but Lily refused to buy them because they were ridiculously expensive.

  “Do you want to see them? Should I put them on?”

  “Of course! Are you kidding? You have to wear them for the rest of your life.”

  He held the shoes in one hand, the shirt in the other. Looking at me, he dropped them and hugged me again. “You’re the best, Max. Just the best.”

  While he worked to put them on, I tried as best I could to grill him in a subtle way. Had anything happened while I was gone? Anything special or different? How had Lily acted? He was much more interested in the new shoes—I got mostly “I dunno” and “I guess” in answer to my questions.

  A car door slammed outside, followed by the sound of a key turning in the lock. “Anybody home?”

  “Here we are, Mom. Max’s back!”

  “Thank God.”

  Suddenly there were flurries of sound in the kitchen—Cobb’s tail hitting the floor, Lily talking to him, something being placed heavily on a counter, some chatter from her that was too far away to be understood. Then there she was. It felt to me like we were meeting for the first time. My heart beat hard.

  “You didn’t answer. How’s your brother?” She sailed into the room on a cloud of love and self-confidence. I was home, we were a family again. She didn’t know what I knew. I was afraid of what she hadn’t told me. How much different could our hearts have been at that shared moment in our lives?

  My brother? What did he have to do with this? At the last second I luckily remembered I’d gone to New York ostensibly to see Saul.

  “He’s okay. Naughty as usual. Making lots of money.”

  She strode over and gave me a big long kiss. “We missed you. Lincoln said I talked about you too much.” She looked like a great meal; you didn’t know where to start first. Sirens were going off in my head and heart, love bats swooping and lifting, men on pogo sticks bouncing around wooden floors. How was I supposed to feel about this? Or deal with it? I adored this woman. Lusted after her every spent breath. She terrified me.

  “Well, bucko, tell the truth, are you glad to be home with us?”

  Before I could answer, Lincoln picked up a leg and stuck it in her face. “Ma, check out the sneaks! Air Jordans. He got ‘em for me in New York.”

  “You bought those things? Are you out of your mind?”

  “I guess so.”

  “I guess so too, but it’s a nice mind. We’re extremely glad to have it back.”

  When Lincoln left to show his shoes to a friend in the neighborhood, Lily and I stayed in the living room.

  “Why are we suddenly so quiet? Have we already run out of things to tell each other? How was New York?”

  “Someone shot at me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A guy shot at me while I was driving.” Grateful for a story to tell so I could stay away from the important subject, I dragged it out, exaggerating here and there, making it even worse than it was. Not so that I would appear heroic or more levelheaded, but because telling a woman a story is one of the greatest pleasures in life. Holding their attention, seeing their reaction, making them laugh or rear back in shock or wonder… The woman you love is the true listener, the supreme audience. Even when she is dangerous and you are afraid of her.

  Lily heard me out. When I was finished, she put her head down on her lap and mumbled.

  “What?”

  She looked up. “I don’t know what I would have done.”

  “I was very spooked.”

  “I’m not talking about spooked, I’m talking about life. If I’d answered the telephone and heard some state trooper in New York calling to say you were dead, I don’t know what I would’ve done.” She closed her eyes. “I might have gone mad. Yeah, I think I’d have gone crazy. I thought about you unendingly when you were gone, Max. Like I was sixteen again and in love for the first time. I passed a flower store and wanted to go in and get you some for your desk, those white tulips you like so much. Even though you weren’t here. I bought stupid little presents and hid them under your pillow. I
couldn’t wait to hear what you’d say. But so what, that’s love, right? Remember I told you when I masturbate, my fantasy is always a faceless man who makes love to me? Even that changed. When I did it this time it was you there, and the more I could remember about you, your voice or the way your hands touch me, the hotter I got. I masturbated all the time, Max. You and I fucked and fucked and couldn’t get enough. We never got tired. We did it on beaches, in cars, other people’s beds, everywhere. One time I imagined us doing it on Ibrahim’s desk in the back of the restaurant. It was so strong. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I wanted you so much.” She stood up. “Come on, let’s do it now while Lincoln’s out.”

  “Lily—”

  “No, I don’t want to talk anymore. I don’t want to think about dying or you being away. It was hard enough for that short time. I want to make love now and smell you. I want that great smell all around me. I just want more right now, Max. Okay? Tell me your other stuff later. Come on.” She took my hand and pulled me toward the bedroom. More erotic than anything was the way she held my hand. She kept squeezing it and letting it go slack, as if her hand itself had its own pulse, or a way of hurried breathing. Squeeze, stop, squeeze, stop.

  She wore purple socks. White sneakers and purple socks. She sat on the bed and flipped her shoes off but kept the socks on. The silver belt buckle on her jeans was jerked open, then the stttttrrrrutttt when the pants buttons came undone one fast after the other.

  “Hurry. Hurry hurry hurry.” She pulled the sweater over her head and she wore no bra. Her breasts dropped heavily out of the soft wool. She sat in bikini panties, arms stretched behind her, and watched while I wrestled out of my clothes. When my slacks were off, she reached into my underpants and touched my cock. Her hands were freezing cold. I almost jumped back. She wouldn’t let go. Pulling me gently toward her, she took it in her mouth and the cold-to-warm was so sharp and quick that I felt my knees almost go. Lily didn’t like sucking cock because it made her feel cheap and whorey. Knowing that, I never asked her to do it. What good is sex when it’s not wanted? So was this a one-of-a-kind welcome-home gift, or did she genuinely desire to do it? Unsure, I eased myself out of her mouth and knelt down so we were face to face. “Don’t. You don’t have to—“

  “I want to.”

  “No. The other’s enough.” Pushing her back on the bed, I pinned her arms above her head and ran my tongue up the long course of her neck. Her throat worked up and down and I thought she was trying to swallow. But then she began crying, gasping. I got off her. She lay on her back, arms above as if still held down. Eyes open, tears rolled down the sides of her face in a steady stream.

  “I missed you so much. I got scared, I missed you so goddamned much. It’s not right to be like that; it’s not healthy. I’m not a weak person. I’m not, but look at how I was acting. You weren’t even gone that long.” She lifted her head off the bed and looked at me. “Maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this. You could kill me with it if you wanted. You could twist me in half.”

  Walking in an hour before, I was resolved to have it out. Face her with what I knew and demand an explanation. But my resolve began slipping with Lincoln’s happy greetings and many kisses. Now this.

  Staring her in the eye, I said the truth but she naturally misunderstood. “I know you.”

  “You know me better than anyone. Better than anyone ever has.”

  “I know you.”

  “Yes. Fuck me.”

  “All these things you haven’t”—I entered her hard—“told me!”

  “Yes.” Her legs wrapped around my waist. I felt the socks on my back. Her arms tightened around my neck. “Secrets. Crybaby. Secrets.”

  “I hate them.”

  She stopped moving.

  “I hate your secrets.”

  The fear on her face turned into a smile. “Take them. Take them all. Fuck me now. You can have them all.”

  I pushed as hard as I could. She closed her eyes, chuckled.

  “I want them. Promise me—”

  “Just do this now. Yes, that. Whatever you want. Whatever you want. You…”

  It was so good. And when it was over, the boy would come home and we three would sit at the kitchen table and be a family again.

  Lily came quickly, which was not like her, but then kept pumping and moving, keeping it going as long as she could. “Max, I love you. Oh, Max.” She rose and fell. Her eyes were shut above a huge smile. I watched. Half of me swam in her like a sea, the other half watched. Watched her from as far away as the moon.

  “Absence makes the heart lose weight.”

  Gus Duveen looked at Ibrahim like he was a bad smell. “What does that mean?”

  “This is a saying in Saru. It is what Lily felt when Max was not here. I had an uncle who married a woman who turned into paper. This is not uncommon, but he did not know it until it was almost too late.”

  Squeezing my knee under the table, Lily leaned over and whispered, “I love Ibrahim’s stories.”

  “My uncle went on a business trip to Umm Hujul and met a woman there. They fell madly in love and he asked to marry her. This was all right and everything went according to plan. After the wedding, they returned to Saru and he created a household for her. Then he is a businessman, so he must go out and return to work. He is a traveling salesman all over the Middle East but no big worry. He told his new wife he would be coming back every week to see her. Now, the first time he returned, she was happy to see him but was much, much lighter. When he picks her up in bed, she almost floats out of his arms. ‘You must eat something!’ he says, but they are so glad to see each other nothing more is said about it. The next time he returns to his house, she is fifteen times lighter. She can walk on water now, but no one is impressed because she is not holy, only skinny. My uncle thinks this is not love, but blackmail: this is her way of making him stay at home. So he tells her he did not marry a balloon, and if she wants to lift off the earth, he will not be interested in her anymore. Desperate, she says, ‘Take me with you and I will do anything.’ ‘Are you crazy? Women do not go with men to their business.’ But she is very stubborn and says, ‘Well then, unless I can be near you always, I will lose the rest of my weight and disappear. I cannot help it. My body loves you too and has its own mind. I don’t want to die, but if it wants to it will, husband.’”

  Lily caressed the inside of my thigh. Since returning from New York, I’d experienced a completely new side of her: hungry, worried, agitated. We made love more than ever before, but her body stayed tight as a strung bow and never seemed to relax. Even when we’d finished and lay there in the calm dark, I felt her tension. Too soon she would want to start again and I had to catch up to her desire. Out of the bedroom, she was overly bright and peppy. There were few quiet moments anymore; out of the bedroom everything had to be either in motion or in the planning stage. I had the feeling she instinctively knew what I’d discovered and wanted to steer our lives away from that moment of truth, that moment of impact. As long as she kept moving, talking, planning… the disastrous facts could be avoided. Yet how could she know what I’d found? I knew about women’s eerie sense of intuition, but did it go this far? Were they that clairvoyant?

  On my part, I simply hadn’t had the courage to confront her. I justified this cowardice by figuring I wanted to observe her a while with my new knowledge in hand. Scrutinize someone from a different position and you see new things. Look at them with X-ray eyes and their beauty becomes bones and blood, curves, dips, cells, cause and effect.

  “But God does not let us love someone only a little while.” Ibrahim reached over and touched Gus on the arm. His grumpy lover smiled back at him and nodded. “My uncle was a man first and a businessman second. He loved his wife and did not want to see her turn into air. What could he do? One day right before he was to leave again, they were playing together. You know the way lovers play. He had a ballpoint pen, and because the point was not out, he pressed it to his wife’s neck and pretended to write som
ething. Now remember how thin she was. He kept on doing it. But you know what happened? She was so slender that her blood rose up to the edge of her skin when the pen touched over it, like fish to food in the aquarium. And then there was his name, written in blue blood beneath his poor skinny wife’s skin! My uncle was horrified but fascinated too, of course. Once he saw this and showed her, he wrote many other things too and all of them stayed visible on her the longest time. Hours, probably.”

  “Fucking guy used his wife for a pad, and they lived happily ever after,” Gus said, ruining the end of the story.

  Ibrahim was delighted. “You’re so smart, Gus. That’s right. He took his wife to his business meetings now and could explain her presence there when he said he would be taking notes on her during the meeting. If nobody believed him, he would just show them how it worked. She became his paper.”

  A moment later Ib was called to the phone and got up from the table, leaving the rest of us to look at each other in the wake of this story. Gus spoke first.

  “Sometimes I genuinely think he believes them.”

  Lily waved him off. “Oh, he does not. He’s just being entertaining.”

  “But they all have some kind of point, don’t they? They’re not just Arabian Nights.” Sullivan Band spoke. “What was that one about?” She was due to go on duty in a few minutes. “Sometimes I use his stories in our drama group. As exercises. The only thing I got from this was women are weak and’ll do anything to be by their men. Sexist!”

  “It’s not about weak women, it’s about transformation. What happens to us, or what we are willing to do for the people we love.”