Things unsaid, hovering just below the surface. Day after day we pass in the hall. We sit and play canasta, watch a bit of television, wait for the mail. We stumble through our lives together. There is so much to say but we don’t.
“Would you like some tea, dear?”
“How about some lunch?”
“I’m going to town. Care to join me?”
We both know things about ourselves and each other. We’ve known each other since childhood; kept each others secrets when we were little, hid secrets from each other when we were older. Truths hidden and threatening to appear at any moment.
“Need anything from the store?”
“I’m going out for a bit.”
Jealousies and heart aches. How could you? How could I? If we had but known that we would be spending the winding down time of our lives together would we have done those things?
Do you know, I wonder, that I knew you loved my husband? Did you know I saw him kiss you one Christmas eve? Did you know I went out with your boyfriend when you went away to college? That he said he liked kissing me better than you. Truths that should never be spoken. The air is thick with it.
“Seems like spring is here, finally.”
“We should plant some tomatoes again this year.”
Two old women, nothing left but each other and our secrets. Waiting for nothing, just spending our days until our days are spent, wondering if this is all that’s left. The unsaid and the ticking of the clock filling up our rooms and our lives. Laughing at things shared but they are so surrounded by the unsaid that the laughter is nervous.
Waiting for the clock to run out so we don’t have to watch our words anymore.
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