My mother and I were never good with words. We were good with silences. Over the years I recorded the many silences we had.

The Plain Silence. It is a place in communication where no words are spoken. Usually it is used during Grandpa stories about the war or during brief exchanges with people you absolutely have nothing to say to, like Irene because she stole your boyfriend and she’s boring and she has this twitch in her eye whenever she eats hot foods which annoys the hell out of you.

The very first time I remember using it was the first time I remember crying. I was playing with my builder blocks (nothing like Legos) and I remember how easy it was to snap the blocks together… but it was a pain to unsnap them. Once a block potholder was made, it was going to stay a potholder forever. I remember getting up to show my mom an awesome pink igloo I made. I remember slipping. I remember falling. I remember my butt landing right on a builder block palm tree. As soon as I glanced over to the sofa where my mother was comfortably knitting socks and watching I Love Lucy, I burst into tears. She looked up with surprise; it took me by surprise, too. Why would I cry? It didn’t hurt that much. But it seemed like she didn’t even care. I wanted her attention. I wanted her to be watching me. I wanted her to comfort me with words.

I sobbed.
Plain silence.
She looked at me and smiled.
That smile made me cry even more.
Plain silence.
She tucked my hair behind my ears.
“Mom…” I whined.
Plain silence.
She put down her knitting.
Plain silence.
I climbed onto the sofa and onto her lap.
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The Intentional Silence. It is used when you want the conversation between you and the other person to stop because you have Calculus homework to do or because you are in the middle of watching a new episode of that hit TV show everyone is talking about. So you just inflict as much intentional silence as possible.

My mother always tells me things I don’t want to hear. Mostly because it’s boring and mostly because she would always tell me these stories at the wrong time. She’d talk to me about the history of cotton or how I shouldn’t be a whore because she was a whore before when she was younger. God damn it. She was everything when she was younger. I asked her to help me with my calculus homework once. And somehow, I’m not sure how, she turned it into “Let’s talk about my tragic childhood experiences so you’ll feel bad for me” time.

“When I was younger than you, I had to cook and clean and take care of my four little brothers and sisters.”
Plain silence.
“Why? You ask? Well, your grandparents were never around. They had to go out and make, or should I say gamble, money for us. And I was the oldest.”
Plain silence.
“It was tough.”
Intentional silence.
“I was carrying your Uncle Willy on my back while I was chopping cabbage. It must’ve been one of those days where I just didn’t want to put a smile on. Well, so I was chopping and I accidentally chopped my finger off.”
Intentional silence.
“Sliced it away completely.”
Intentional silence.
“It was hanging by my skin.”
Intentional silence.
“It healed. It healed. And this scar will always represent how you are living a good life in this nice house with food cooked for you. That you are fortunate enough to be going to school and getting a real education.”
Intentional silence.

And from that moment on, I never asked her to help me with my math homework ever again.
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The Awkward Silence needs no introduction.
My mother told me to call her every day. Every single day to make sure I was okay in College. Okay in College… The first few phone calls went well, because I didn’t have anyone else to talk to. I would tell my mother everything from how much money I spent that day to how I forgot to put laundry detergent in the washer.
And then I made friends; which resulted in phone calls every other day, then to once a week, and then to she would call me instead. It was not that I didn’t want to talk to her- it was just that I didn’t want to talk to her.

“Hey, you forget who I am? You don’t call anymore.”
“I’m sorry. I was busy with schoolwork and everything.”
“Too busy to even leave a second to call your mother?”
Intentional Silence.
“How’s school?”
“Oh it’s great. I got an A for my paper on welfare reform. And I worked so hard researching and oh my god- mom, I only had like two hours of sleep the day before it was due and…”
Plain Silence.
“And I’m proud of it, you should read it.”
“Good. Did you have sex yet?”
Awkward Silence.
“Because if you did. I want to say, it’s all right. It’s all right if you have sex before marriage. I don’t expect you not to. I mean I had pre-martial sex. Hah, in fact if I didn’t, you wouldn’t been born.”
Intentional Silence.
“Actually if the condom didn’t break, you wouldn’t been born.”
Awkward Silence.
“Do you miss me?”
“Yes.”
Plain Silence.
Intentional Silence.
Awkward Silence.
“Okay.”

I had my work, my friends and Jon. I was too busy to be nostalgic and cry over the good ol’ times. I was too busy to ask how home was. I felt like whenever I called I would need to block out an hour of my life to talk… and I guess I didn’t have that hour.
Eventually the phone calls stopped altogether and I would only call if I needed money. I also lost interest in telling her about things. Maybe because she lost interest as well.
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Similar to the no smoking sign, it’s the “I do not want silence, but there is silence” symbol. Let’s call it “Ummm” for short. So there are certain times in life where there are silences that you just cannot bear. You want to say something. You just don’t know what. You want to say the most witty and heartfelt phrase.

Over Passover 93’, my Grandpa died. Sudden stroke. We don’t celebrate Passover. We’re not even Jewish. I just remembered it was Passover because that was the first weekend I went back home from College. I didn’t know my Grandpa well. In fact, I just met him once when I was little and all I remember from our meeting was him giving me a half- eaten piece of chocolate and then him saying to me “a girl like you shouldn’t have boobs like those.” And that was it.
This was my first death. The first time I had to console my mother.

“How are you doing?”
“Horrible. I don’t know what to do.”
Ummm.
“I just… I haven’t seen Dad for so long, cause I thought your Aunt Jackie would take care of him and he would be okay and I… I just didn’t expect this.”
“I know. Sudden.”
“I wish I hadn’t married your father and moved four fucking states farther away from Dad. What was I thinking?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m so stupid. I didn’t even say goodbye. I didn’t even…”
Ummm.
“Oh… I can’t even… remember… when the last time I saw… him was… I think it was when you broke your ankle and your father wasn’t home, business trip or some shit. And we had to fly into Columbus. And I remember you saying, ‘Oh I always wanted a Grandpa. I hope Grandpa doesn’t think I’m stupid because I tripped over my Barbies,” and then you said, “I know. I’ll tell Grandpa Jones that it wasn’t my fault, that Barbie was scheming to make me miss my Pretty Pretty Missy Pageant.’ Yep. That was what you said. And when we got to Aunt Jackie and Grandpa’s, you did not say a word. And neither did Dad. Both of you just stared at each other like you’d never seen a human before. And I thought to myself. I thought to myself. Oh. I thought to myself that…”
Ummm.

I don’t do well with tears. I never know if I should just let them have their space or keep talking. She just kept sobbing. I didn’t want to say mundane things. I knew I had to say something. Anything. But I couldn’t think of anything to say. Nothing.
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¡ The unexclamation point. Opposite of the exclamation point. It’s when you whisper or murmur words that no one can hear. Sometimes you just don’t want the other person to hear what you wanted to say but you say it anyway. In a low voice. Just so you know you said it. Even if no one else heard it.
I decided at the time that, when my 25th Birthday comes along, everything would change. My mom would not tell me what I should eat. She would not yell at me because my free-lance writing job is not good enough for her. She would not belittle me.

“Who? Greg? Is he still gay?”
“What does that have to do with anything? ¡”
“Just because he’s gay does not make it right to live with him. He is a boy. Don’t you understand? You can’t live on your own anyway.”
“I’m 25. Damn it. I’m 25¡”
“And you don’t have any money. I don’t even know what the hell you do?”
“I write the Children’s advice column for Kidz Newz and I’m trying to get my Children’s series published¡ ”
“You don’t even know how to boil an egg. You are useless.”
Plain silence.
“You are useless. Look at me. I’ve done so much for you. Why in God’s name would you just leave me?”
“It’s not that I want to leave you. I just need to be on my own. Why can’t you be supportive? You were never supportive in anything I do. Greg and I have been planning this for years. He’s my best friend. You don’t even know I have a best friend. You don’t know anything about my life. You are so selfish ¡ ”
“You are shit.”
Intentional Silence.
“You know, I wish I gave birth to a fucking piece of bread than you. At least I can eat the bread. But you… You wasted my energy. My time. Didn’t I teach you anything?”

There was no way to talk to her. She does not listen. Or. Maybe it was just that I didn’t talk. I plainly gave up. I did leave. I left without telling her. She knew. She knew it was going to come. We talk on the phone sometimes. But we’re never good on the phone. It was like college all over again. Only this time I was the one that had to call her to make sure she was okay.
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> < These are the “words that were not said, but should have been” arrows. Wouldn’t life be great if you look back on your conversations and just inserted these arrows?

“Hello? Fran?” What is that? I can’t hear. I think it’s static.”
“It’s just me crying¡”
“Fran?”
Plain Silence.
Plain Silence.
“Sorry. Mom. I’m here”
“Well, how are you doing? How’s the kids? How’s Jon?”
“We’re all right. Mom. How are you?”
“I just crapped all over myself.”
Awkward Silence.
“Don’t worry. You don’t have to visit me. Doctors say I’m going to go soon anyway. This little ticker is done.”
Awkward Silence.
Plain Silence.
Intentional Silence.
Intentional Silence.
Ummm.
Awkward Silence.
Ummm.
“It’s nice to finally hear your voice Fran.”
Plain Silence.
Ummm.
Ummm.
“Oh, we’re never good on the phone. Are we?”
“No¡”
“Too bad we can’t use the Helen Keller excuse.”
“You always make the best jokes¡”
“I just want to say. You’re good. You were always the one that cared. You were always the one that knew me. You were always the one that listened. You’re good. You know that? You’re good.”
>Thank you<
“Will you miss me?”
>I love you<
Plain Silence
>I love you so much<

After my mom died, I imagine all the “should have” conversations we had. I imagine this alternative life I would have given her. Given me. I imagine and live this alternative life now. Leaving out what actually happen. Leaving out certain words. Leaving out the silences.

Tags: shorts