Love's An Empty Language
She got in, shut the door…then turned 'round to make certain it was bolted. It had been a particularly emotional day and Kate wanted no more business with the world outside and it surely it wanted no more business with her. Yet and still she raised the windows in the sitting room just a touch to let out the stifled air that had been trapped all day in her one-woman cotage.
She proceeded to the kitchen to put the kettle on and prepare a plate of cheese and crackers and melon and prosciutto. Along the way she switched on the radio. It was still at full volume from the time she was home gathering and sorting things before going back to Caroline's. She remembered Lawrence's 'rocket science' shot across the bow that day in Caroline's kitchen. It amazed her how happiness triumphantly danced all over apprehension and how she'd packed and pranced to Prince's "Irresistible Bitch". God, had it really been that long since she had filled her place with music? But this?! Barbra bloody Streisand!? I am a woman in love and I'll do anything to get you into my world…No Thanks! Kate swiftly silenced the ridiculous declarations blasting through the stillness and her numb core.
Before she could even realize… she found herself face first in the toilet purging herself of agony and ache. She needed to protect the very precious life that was growing inside her. She knew that she needed to be optimistic, albeit cautiously, about the day when the pure joy that had taken quite a few wrong turns around the bend to finally meet her face to face. In the distance she made out the familiar sound of the kettle releasing trapped steam. Tea kettles don't whistle, Kate thought…they scream! How had she not ever noticed that before? She was a music instructor for Heaven's sake! God almighty! Could she be more all over the place? So wrought with fear of the unknown? Was it a simple lesson that she'd never learned? How did she wind up so confounded and conflicted?
As she sipped her tea and devoured crackers to quell her anxiety, there was a text from Greg saying that his flight out to Geneva was on time and that he'd ring her once he'd checked in to the GMO summit and got settled in his hotel room and that he'd hoped that her meeting with Caroline yielded a positive outcome. She recalled how excited he was for her when she told him the news of her pregnancy and had how he had encouraged her to find a way to get past her despair and anger over Caroline's indisputable fuck up. He sincerely wished that she could find a way to move forward and get things right with the woman he knew had claimed her heart. But Kate had decided to use her head instead that morning. No such luck there! Kate responded to Greg's text out loud. She took note of the fact that, for the time being, she was back to talking to herself. And then made another mental note to find the sweet little story books of classic children's tales in Italian that she had used to help her comprehend the language ages ago to read aloud to the love inside her once the potato and leek soup that she was preparing was set to simmer. She was not going to allow herself a moment of precious time feeling guilty about the way she had left things with Caroline earlier in the day…for her inability to capitulate…for the moments of self-loathing thinking that she was not an actual scientist getting actual results…for not knowing how to make it right without any assistance from her glorious headmistress.
Love's an empty language when not fearlessly spoken…the modern languages teacher mused sadly.