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    Mr & Mrs Words

It's a warm afternoon of May, Mr. and Mrs. Words are in their living room, Mr Words drinking a tea and his wife drinking a coffee. All around them everything is silent. Mrs. Words sighs, she's standing in front of the glass door that leads into the garden and she's looking outside, her look lost in the spring landscape. She turns towards her husband who's drinking his tea indifferently.
He doesn't arise his eyes because he knows that as soon as he does so his wife will force him to talk. He simply doesn't want to. Mrs. Words withdraws her gaze bitterly. She's tired of her silence. She's tired of their silence.
Mr. Words finishes his tea and stands up. He's tired of his talk. He's tired of their useless talk.

Mr. Words is a lecturer, Mrs. Words is a writer. They're always among people, their lives on the lips of friends and strangers. They're well-known, they're popular.

Now Mr. Words has gotten out of the room leaving his wife alone. No sound, no voice. Just the deafening silence to keep her good company. A shy tear stealthily slips along her cheek. Her mouth shamefully opens, ashamed of the sound of her voice.

Mrs. Words shouts and cries and screams. Mr. Words bursts into the room, wide opened eyes. Astonishment and scare shape the mask of his face.
What's happened?, all his being is silently asking, unable to pronounce anything.
Mrs. Words slowly turns, the trail of the wet tear still on her cheek, a quiet brilliant smile upon her face.
"I love you", she whispers to her husband. "Just this, I love you".

* * *

From Mrs. Words' diary:
"I want to talk and want to sing. I want to write and to observe. There's so much to listen to and to convey. There's sorrow to accept and pain to heal. There's a world to change, there's my person to change as well."

From Mr. Words' agenda:
Monday, meeting at the Holy Park, lunch with Mr. "I know who he is"… -- Do I necessary have to go? I'm tired, I'm bored, I need some rest…
Tuesday, speech at the Honorary Degree University…

Parties, premiers, social events, business lunches and dinners, interviews, sales promotions, photographs, speeches… human contact, a lot of human contact… much and nothing. Nothing and even lesser.

Is that all? Is there anything more?

Mrs. Words is smiling, her husband is amazed, but a faint smile appears upon his face too.
She still stands by the glass door, he's on the opposite site of the living room. His feet firm, his legs unable to move.

Words that heal. Words that bring relief.

Mr. Words moves his first steps towards his wife. She keeps on smiling. She's more beautiful than she's never been, he thought, breathless. Few steps and he's by the glass door too.
He takes her wife's hand between his; he brushes her fingers, her palm and her hand is between his.

Words that understand. Words that give strength.

Silence is all around, accepted, welcomed.
There, to give the Words a new meaning: no more useless, no more rejected, they can finally feel brightly alive. Aware of their meaning, more than ever aware of themselves.

 

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Written by Lara, 2004

 

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