His silences have become more significant than his words.
Did he learn it from his mother?
She’s the woman with the trick of raising one eyebrow
in response to the movements of your mouth.
The only time I notice her eyebrows, in fact,
is when one of them is pushing itself up above the other:
a microcosm of the macrocosm:
her way of raising herself up above me or anyone else
who needs putting in place.
He told me last night that he wants to listen and understand me.
That’s new, and I appreciate the intention and the follow through.
I really do.
But those damn silences.
The one from years ago, right after we made love
at a difficult time in our marriage, and I
—with all the truth in my soul—
said, “I love you.”
Then again, last night, when I asked him what I deserve.
He listed these:
to be listened to
to be understood
to be taken care of
He stopped there. He could give me no more than three,
so I added what, apparently, I didn’t deserve:
to be loved.
He and I then lay in silence until sleep came
for each of us.
