Melody for Maladies

Two: Silence

"That's all there is to her will. Sir, Miss, if you would excuse me."

I held his wrinkled hands in mind and pressed them to my lips. At seventy, he still preferred his silence. He gave me a reassuring nod and brought the key left by the lawyer to his room. I know he won't be out for a while. I held the document in my hands and read it again. There were only two sentences.

"I left a box of letters in my safe for you. This is the key."

He didn't emerge from his room until dinner the next day. I wondered if he cried in bed? But all the comfort I could give was a cup of red tea, no sugar, brewed the way she taught me so many years ago. He pressed the cup to his lips, but didn't drink. His grey eyelashes fluttered slightly and I could only wonder what was crossing his mind. When he finally set down the cup, it was untouched and cold.

He ruffled my hair, his coarse fingers softly stroked my brow. I know he was offering the comfort he could give to me. There was nothing much he could do when the news probably broke him more. But I'm glad he recognized the tearing pain I feel for her death. He didn't eat.

Late that night, I served a bowl of hot soup to his room. I couldn't watch him damage his frail body like this. Not after the trauma of her leaving us. He opened the door after two knocks, his body, though weakened by age, was still that of a warrior. But I knew his gesture was more than just that. He didn't want to talk. Not even the simple two words, "Come in."

His smile didn't reach his eyes, his darkened blue eyes. I struggled to remember the way those eyes shone when I was younger. Or the way she spoke about them. "Azure eyes, that when he fought, lights up in an almost neon tint of turquoise." But she stopped after two years of marriage. No more talks about him, the way she idolized him, or the way he was always away. It was resignation. Reality just sinks in after time. "I loved those eyes." I can still hear her voice, soft and clear, at times husky from the tears she never showed me. I can't remember the way she looked when I was young. Not anymore.

Is it the same for him? Will his old age take a toll on his memories?

"I brought some soup for you."

He looked a little troubled. Perhaps he didn't want to eat. But I took advantage of his silence and walked through the door, closing it behind me as I set the bowl on a wooden side table.

"Did you read her letters?"

He shook his head and sat on the bed, patting the space beside him. I complied and sat beside him, resting my head on his arm. It had been so long since we've touched.

"They're all blank."

I looked up into his eyes, they were closed.

"Blank?"

"Yeah. She didn't leave any last words for me."

There was no emotion in his voice.

"Do you know why?"

"I thought about it last night." He paused, tone diminishing. "I think it's her way of punishing me."

"Why?"

He stroked the back of my head softly and sighed.

"Because I've always been silent around her."

I looked down at the floorboard and tried not to look at him, or the weakness that must have surfaced with that revelation.

"She's not that kind of person."

I could feel him nod lightly.

"Even before she… we've talked very little."

Death was still a sensitive issue. I waited, patiently for him to continue.

"I guess she just gave up."

"She loved you." Confidence was oozing from my words. If there was anything I knew about her, it was her love. Her love for us, him, and everything. "She was an optimistic woman."

"I've made her lose her voice with me."

"Cloud…" I whispered. How long had it been since I called his name? Since when did everything turn out this way? Since when had silence dictate our every moment? "She wouldn't want you to think that way."

He shifted a little in his seat and I think back about the things she'd say to me.

"She once said, she'd make sure you had hot meals after your delivery trips, and a hot bath."

"I used to be gone for so long."

"Sometimes, she felt a little disappointed when you just plop into bed."

He chuckled softly.

"But she'd tell me how happy she feels when you always manage to return."

"I know… She never got over the hurt when I left to die."

I held his hands tight in mine and shook my head.

"No… She was worried you'd think that this isn't your home."

"Almost fifty years of marriage, and I've never treated her right."

"She felt the happiest with you, Cloud."

"I've always been silent."

"Tifa… Tifa said she learnt to be silent from you."

He stopped replying.

"She said you have so much emotion beneath the silence that she learnt to understand them… in her own silence."

He looked away, and I could almost see the bottled tears running down his cheeks.

"I think… those blank letters are her way of expressing her emotions, Cloud. Her happiness with you, loneliness when you were away… her love. Everything."

I brought his trembling hands to my lips and kissed them softly. "Surely her feelings are the same as yours. You can understand them without words right?"