"Comfortable Silence

Alex received the call two years after the relationship ended and two months after he felt as though he was over it. The call came on Halloween. He let his cell phone ring until voicemail as he stared in disbelief at the caller ID. He was rocking back and forth, bouncing off of people in the tiny living room adorned with black and orange paper decorations. His costumed friends were all dancing; shoulder to shoulder, back to back. He was dressed as Clark Kent, as a man with a secret. Alex was surrounded with ghouls and goblins as ghosts from his past revisited.

There was no clear end to Alex and Jhon’s friendship in Alex’s mind. They had built their bridge in a couple of years and burnt it down in a couple of months. Lost in thought, Alex pushed through the crowd of people. He found his way to the bathroom and took a deep breath, exhaling the heat of the party. He took out his phone. It read ‘one new voicemail,’ one more trial to face.

Anytime Alex heard about or from Jhon, he froze. He became less able to talk, less able to comprehend. He called his messages after enough breath was circulated. “One new message,” the automated voice told him. He braced himself for Jhon’s voice, braced for something he had not heard in years. He shut his eyes tight and tried to force out the tears before they formed. “First new message.” He removed his Clark Kent glasses, but did not transform; he was not Superman.

Alex heard the message start. A static sea was on the other end of his phone. He was a man pressing a shell against his ear, hearing only a dial tone. Alex heard a deep breath, a crashing wave.

“Hey Alex, it’s Jhon.” Alex’s eyes shot open in an elastic snap. In a way he thought he imagined his call. In a way he wished it was all in his imagination. “Um…” He sounds the same, Alex thought, confident, but without anything to say. “Well, uh, I’m moving back to Chicago, and, um, well, I’d like to see you before I go. So… yeah. Hopefully I’ll talk to you soon. Okay. Yeah.”

“To save this message, press nine.” Alex pressed seven, and ended the call to his voicemail. With his glasses back on and another deep breath, he was launched back into the group of people like a pinball, bouncing off the bumpers without a willful decision of where he was going. He asked a few people where Sam was. They directed him upstairs like flippers shooting him up a ramp.

Alex felt confused, angry, frustrated, hopeful, and disappointed; but mostly sad. Alex found Sam sitting on the top stair. She was fingering a small piece of paper and tiny green leaves. She was dressed as a genie, wearing a shiny green tube top and matching costume skirt. Maybe she’ll grant my wishes. She looked up as Alex crushed each stair under the weight of Jhon calling.

“Want some?” She licked the paper and completed a small tube like a crude piece of origami.

“Guess who just called me,” he said. She examined her joint for mistakes and pulled a few lose flakes out of the tube. She curled one end into a fuse.

“Did you answer?” Alex shook his head.

“No, he’s moving home.” Sam looked at him un-phased, like this was old news. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Please,” she said, “spare me your broken heart. We all know how you get when we even think about him.” Alex knew that he was a topic of conversation, but was not aware that Sam was elected as their voice.

“He said he wants to see me.” Alex focused on the wood-grain pattern imbedded in the stairs. He barely heard Sam sigh.

“Well… do you want some?” She lit the fuse with a lighter. Alex guessed that she bought it that night to match her outfit. The smoke billowed around her and only added to the effect of her costume.

“I think I’m gonna go.”

“Are you gonna be okay?” she said through the smoke. Alex leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, a mother reassuring her child. It should have been the other way around.

* * *

Alex walked centered on the road. The lamps flickered as he past them, some of them turning off entirely. He wondered whether or not to return Jhon’s call.

In august, he finally gave up on Jhon. He realized that the continuation of his longing and waiting for a phone call would ultimately be fruitless. He stopped sitting by the phone and pressing the call button just before hanging up. He stopped drinking, mostly because of financial reasons. He forced himself to appear happier, and stopped worrying about what he did wrong. I didn’t do anything wrong. He would affirm himself. Things just happened. Things are how they should be. I am a better person because of it. Sometimes he even believed himself.

The last time Alex had seen or heard from John was Halloween two years prior. They had dressed as Shaggy and Fred from Scooby Doo: Alex did not need to wear a wig for Shaggy, and Jhon did not need to shop for an outfit. At that point, Alex still felt like a part of Jhon’s team, but the distance was building up and breaking them at the seams. Alex pretended like everything was okay, but Jhon was further away. He imagined them as a plant splitting at the roots, each longing for a different direction but unable to separate.

That night, Jhon said goodbye for the first time Alex could recall: not ‘see you later,’ not ‘take care,’ and not ‘have fun.’ Alex pained himself over the small farewell. But ‘goodbye’ was the last thing Alex thought he would hear from Jhon. Once again, Jhon had proved him wrong.

The thought drove Alex’s train of thought to another station in his memory. Alex remembered a time when he and Jhon had been sitting for hours sipping coffee and waxing intellect.

“I don’t have hope,” Alex said.

“In what?”

“In general.” He motioned to the waitress for a coffee refill.

“In what in general?”

“I don’t believe in hope.”

“What do you believe in?” Jhon cupped his mouth over his hands, holding on tightly to any emotion. Alex rested his chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“The good in people,” Alex said. Comfortable silence; the first of many.

“Ahh.” Jhon had proved a point that Alex was still grabbing strings for. “So you believe in something.”

“But I don’t hope for the good in people.”

“But you believe in it.” Jhon removed his hands from his mouth; a sign of triumph Alex would recognize well and, in time, adore. Alex smiled.

“Belief is different than hope. That’s why they’re different words.” Alex raised his glass and silently said, ‘cheers.’

“Is one needed for the other?”

“What’s your point.” It was a statement. Alex felt close to finding it. He needed it said.

“You have to hope to believe in goodness.”

“Define goodness.”

“You said it first, not me,” Jhon said. He re-cupped his mouth.

“It’s subjective.”

“Then pick an objective word.”

“No,” Alex said. Jhon uncovered his mouth. Alex could tell that Jhon had won whatever tournament they were competing for.

“So you do hope.”

“I don’t want to.”

“But you do.”

“Not by any fault of my own.”

“But you do.” Jhon pressed onward, determined to conjure the words. He as the puppet master, Alex was the puppet.

“You use rhetoric better than anyone else I’ve met.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment,” Alex said. He was proven wrong, and although he enjoyed the disagreement, he was upset that he tripped over his words like a three-legged horse in a steeple chase

* * *

Alex collapsed on his bed. He stared at the off-white ceiling tiles and briefly considered fixing them. He removed his costume and stared into the light above his bed. Tears invaded his eyes, a few escaped. His thoughts raced at light speed, but his bed was a black hole. He was drawn into it; timeless, unable to move.

It seemed to Alex that when he needed Jhon, he was not accessible. Now that Alex lived without him, he called. But he’s leaving, he thought, does that change anything? Maybe Jhon wanted to end on a good note, to say goodbye again. Alex thought that maybe Jhon understood that his disconnection was wrong and unwarranted. No, Jhon would not apologize. Jhon doesn’t even realize the severing he did between us. Alex wanted to reject the apology he knew would not come.

Alex picked up the phone and dialed Jhon’s number. He memorized it after deleting it from his phone. He was used to hearing Jhon’s voicemail message, a poorly recorded Beck song. Alex introduced Jhon to the song, but he had grown to hate it.

“Hello Alexander.”

“Jhonathan.” He was surprised at how calm his voice sounded. He fooled his own ears. “Coffee?”

“Sounds good. When?”

“Free Tuesday?”

“Around ten?”

“Ten’s good. Starbucks?”

“Alright.”

“I guess I’ll see you there.”

“Yep. Tuesday.”

“Maybe dinner?” Jhon said.

“We’ll see.”

“Ten on Tuesday.”

“Goodbye.” Silence.

“Alright.” Jhon ended the call.

Alex threw his phone across the room. Stupid idea, he thought. Stupid.

* * *

Why am I doing this? Alex thought. He looked at the cars for Jhon’s silver neon. It was a losing game Alex played often, but the odds were in his favor. Alex became very emotionally involved during his and Jhon’s friendship. They embraced often, and they embraced well. Alex understood where the name of ‘Bear Hugs’ came from after a few. I don’t want to touch him.

Each step he took was forced and purposeful. He tried to clear his mind of thoughts other than walking. Alex was early, and expected Jhon to be his normal ten minutes late. It would give him time to prepare, although he had two years to prepare for this meeting. Alex stood across the street from Starbucks and spotted Jhon at nine fifty-five. Alex searched his spinning mind for another time Jhon was early, but could not remember one. Alex’s heart stuck somewhere between his mouth and his lungs.

The street was illuminated by neon signs and a full moon. Alex tried to inhale deeply without showing Jhon hesitation or weakness. After the initial sighting, Alex kept his eyes focused on the ground. He counted his steps and only allowed his foot to land on the white paint that protected him from cars.

“Hey,” Jhon said, “I’m starving. Wanna skip and go to Denny’s?”

“Sure.” Alex ruined his plan. He now had no escape; the restaurant was half an hour way, driving time. Jhon opened the passenger door of a strange car; not the silver neon, and not a car he would ever pick out for Jhon.

The two drove in a giant’s car, big enough for six adults. Alex opened the window and imagined jumping out on the highway. He would tumble like a gymnast and become as bruised as a boxer. He wondered if Jhon would turn around.

Jhon talked about his job for the thirty minute ride. Alex tuned him out and continued to stare out the window. He wondered when they would talk about the elephant in the back seat riding with them. After a dozen asinine stories of uninteresting workplace occurrences, they arrived at the restaurant. Alex walked across the parking lot, hands buried in pockets and head hung low. He felt like a man walking death row.

Alex had dreaded this encounter, but after an hour of small talk, everything seemed normal. They were catching up; it reminded Alex of his high school reunion. Who saw who, who’s married, who’s working where. Alex was relaying a series of stories about his and Sam’s nightly bar-crawling.

“We fashioned ourselves as pirates,” Alex chuckled.

“Why were you drinking so much?” Alex waited a second to answer the question. He chose his words carefully.

“Are you kidding?” Alex said. “You.” Jhon looked at Alex. They were fastened to each other with an invisible beam of light that neither could look away from. A scoff escaped Alex’s lips. “You ruined everything we had.” Jhon did not respond, did not move. He cupped his hands over his mouth, and Alex could tell he was holding back tears. He never saw Jhon cry.

“What do you want me to say?”

“What can you say?”

“I would apologize, but I don’t think you would believe me… or forgive me.”

“Do you think I should?” Alex used every ounce of strength in himself to remain calm.

“I’d like you to.”

“But is it warranted?”

“I’ve given you no reason to trust me anymore.”

“So imagine that you’re me. Would you forgive yourself?” Alex said. What were once comfortable silences between them were now bulky and awkward. Alex debated calling a friend for a ride home.

“No. I probably wouldn’t.”

“Do you think I should?”

“I thought you might.

“And why is that?”

“Because you believe in the good in people.”

“You proved me wrong.”

“I’m sorry, “Jhon said.

“I understand.”