Listen to the Silence - a 10 minute short story
Ian Fox
LISTEN TO THE SILENCE
by
Ian Fox
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PUBLISHED BY:
Ian Fox
Listen to the Silence
Copyright 2011 by Ian Fox
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Chapter 1
_________________________
Peering ahead through the dimness, Monica Oregon gripped the steering wheel so tight that her knuckles had turned pale. The Brooklyn streets were slippery with ice and snow and to top it off, a thick fog contributed to the already low visibility. She could see perhaps ten yards ahead, max. Few drivers had dared venture out that afternoon.
She glanced at her husband, who was sitting calmly in the passenger seat, nodding.
Monica said, “Don’t worry, Richard! You know we won’t have to work anymore soon.”
She tried to change gears, but the gearshift got stuck. She cursed the fifteen-year-old vehicle under her breath and jerked the gearstick until she finally shoved it into position.
“When things have settled down, we’ll go on vacation for a month. We’ll lie on a sandy beach and enjoy the peace and quiet.”
A smile appeared on Richard’s lips.
At that moment Monica saw a large Mercedes coming from the opposite direction, straying into her lane. To avoid it, she swung the steering wheel to the right and prevented what would have otherwise certainly been a collision.
She took a deep breath in order to banish the panic that had penetrated her bones, and then carefully put her foot on the brake pedal because they were approaching a downward slope in the road.
Her husband said, “That was a close one.”
“You know I always sort things out.”
But the brakes were not functioning as they should. The car slowed down for a moment and then sped on. Monica put her foot down once more, as far as it would go.
“Why are we going so fast?” Richard asked. “Slow down, it’s icy out there.”
Monica suddenly felt hot. She pumped the brake pedal and clutched the steering wheel even more firmly. “The brakes aren’t working!”
Richard instantly sat up. “My God! And on this hill!”
Monica pulled on the hand brake. To her horror, that failed to slow the car.
“How can this be?” She glanced at the speedometer; they were going over fifty. “What do I do! How can I stop!”
“This isn’t going to end well,” Richard said.
They both saw that they were approaching a red light.
Richard put his hands to his head, saying, “We’re going to die.”
“No, we won’t,” Monica said, even though she had no idea what to do.
To the left and the right, cars were parked along the sidewalk. She could deliberately crash into them, but that would mean a lot of damage and she didn’t know if the insurance would cover it. Even though there was a great risk, she decided to go through the red light. She knew the slope ended after the crossroad and with a little luck she would be able to stop the vehicle safely.
A moment later she realized she had made the wrong decision. A huge snowplow was coming from the right at a great speed. She saw Richard cover his eyes and heard him scream.
A loud crash followed, and then darkness ….
Chapter 2
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It was lunchtime, but dinner was not on the table.
Where are Monica and Richard? Gordon Oregon wondered. He was a thin man with a pointed nose and restless eyes. His slate-gray hair was slightly too long and covered his forehead, which was now wrinkled with concern.
He shuffled slowly to the dining room, his legs no longer serving him as they should. His long, trembling fingers grabbed the knife, and he picked up the loaf of artisan bread from the straw basket and placed it on the table. While he carefully cut a slice, his lips pressed together. He knew he should be doing it on a breadboard if he did not want to damage the tabletop. Luck was not on his side. The blade etched a line into the varnish.
When he saw what he had done, he dropped the loaf and put his left hand to his head; some crumbs transferred from his hand to his hair. Still holding the knife in his right hand, he fetched a damp cloth from the sink and tried to wipe the mark, but it refused to go away. His hands shook even more and his breathing became labored.
He had been feeling sick for a few hours and had thrown up at least three times again that day. In addition, he was having dizzy spells.
A sharp, loud knocking at the door caused him to drop the knife, and its tip struck the parquet floor. The cat ran into the next room, leaving behind a broken vase and a large puddle.
Gordon shouted after the animal, “Don’t go near that window again!”
Forgetting the knife, he gingerly bent over to pick up the broken glass. At that moment the doorbell rang, which gave him another fright and made him grip a glass fragment so firmly that he cut himself. As he watched the thick drops of blood mixing with the water on the floor, he got dizzy, lost his balance, and slumped onto the floor.
The doorbell rang again.
Gordon slowly picked himself up, swore quietly, and went to the kitchen for a paper towel. He wrapped it around his finger in order to stop the bleeding. Then he set off to answer the door. Just before he took hold of the doorknob, he had to pause for a moment; his stomach was churning and he looked toward the bathroom, but hoped he could will away the queasiness.
Instead of Richard and his wife, Monica, Gordon opened the door to two policemen. Their serious expressions immediately told him something terrible must have happened.
One of the police officers asked, “Do Richard and Monica Oregon live here?”
Gordon put his hand over his chest, finding it difficult to breathe. His nausea increased. “Yes,” he said. “I’m Richard’s father.”
The officer said, “We have some bad news. There was a serious accident and your son and daughter-in-law sadly didn’t survive.”
Gordon’s hands reached for the doorframe and he had to lean against it, his hands behind him. “My God, how is it possible?”
“It seems they went through a red light. A truck coming from their right hit them.”
Gordon stood there for a few moments, his head tilted slightly sideways, his eyes staring at a patch of grass. “My son ... dead?” he asked in a quiet voice.
The police officer nodded sympathetically. “Is there anything we can do to help? Can we call someone?”
Gordon furrowed his brow while the corners of his mouth drooped. “No, no. There’s no one else. Don’t worry, I’ll call my neighbor to help me.”
He stepped back and began closing the door. “If you don’t mind, I’m in shock. I need to sit down. Goodbye.”
The officers nodded their understanding and turned to go.
Gordon went straight to the bathroom, knelt on shaking knees, and put his arms around the toilet bowl. As he threw up, tears flooded his eyes.
Chapter 3
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The next morning, Gordon slept later than usual. When he awoke, he sat on the edge of his bed watching the sunlight brighten the room.
He cautiously made his way to the bathroom. Looking at his face in the mirror, he took some deep breaths and realized that the nausea that had plagued him the last few days was gone. Mumbling to himself, he squeezed some toothpaste onto his toothbrush and massaged his gums with a circular motion. He thought he would have some fresh fruit for breakfast and then call his neighbor, Maria. He was actually looking forward to having a cup of tea with her.
Over an hour later, at nearly ten o’clock, Gordon stepped out onto the deck and marveled a
t the silence accompanying him all morning. No one was rushing him to eat his porridge. He had never liked porridge; it always made him belch.
Enjoying the warm sunshine on his face and the backs of his hands, he spotted a dog rummaging through the garbage. It was Shiva, a bitch that he knew did not have an owner and that occasionally strayed into the area. He raised a hand to his mouth and whistled. The dog immediately jumped over the low fence and ran toward him. Until then it had never even entered his head to do something like this, since Monica hated dogs. He patted Shiva’s head.
“There’s some cheese in the fridge, I think,” he told her. “I’ll get it.”
After he came back and fed the dog, they spent some time together in the sun, enjoying the quiet morning.
Chapter 4
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“I can sense some new energy in you. You’re different. What’s happened?”
Gordon awoke from his reverie and saw Maria standing there with a pot of tea. The sight of her friendly heart-shaped face, the lips that she emphasized with lipstick, and her upturned nose put him in a good mood.
As she poured the tea, he noticed her hands trembling.
“Slow down so you don’t spill it. Your tea is so good it would be a shame to waste it.”
“You haven’t answered my question. And who is that dog lying next to you?”
“She’s called Shiva, and as far as I know she doesn’t have an owner.”
He gently patted the dog’s head.
From a cabinet, Maria pulled out a cushion, put it on a chair, and sat down.
“Don’t get too attached to the animal,” she said. “You know it won’t be welcome in your house.”
Gordon nodded briefly. “See, she keeps looking at me. I gave her some cheese earlier and now she’s waiting to see if she’ll get anything else. She’s very hungry, poor thing.”
“By the way, how’s your nausea? Did you see a doctor, like I told you to?”
“You know I don’t like doctors,” he said curtly. “And anyway, I’m getting better. I don’t feel sick today.”
Maria gave him a reproachful look.
Before she could say something, he went on. “I haven’t thanked you yet for reminding me to change the battery in my hearing aid.”
“You were stone-deaf. I had to shout to get through to you.” At that moment, Maria’s phone rang. She got up, checking the caller ID. “Sorry, but I have to get this.”
- - -
Soon after Maria stepped into the house, Gordon’s thoughts turned to the evening two weeks earlier, when he was unable to sleep. He had spent the whole day in bed, shivering and vomiting from time to time. In the evening he thought someone was calling him, so he sat up and put his hearing aid in. He could hear faint bits of a conversation between his son and his wife. At first he did not intend to eavesdrop. When Gordon was about to remove the hearing aid with his trembling fingers, he got dizzy and had to lie down. With his mouth open and his hand on his forehead, he tried to remember what he was going to do. When the nausea passed, he went to the bathroom.
On the stairs Gordon heard his son and daughter-in-law whispering and mentioning his name.
Richard said, “How much longer does he have?”
“According to my calculations, four weeks at the most. You can see he’s getting worse every day.”
“I keep thinking about this. What we’re doing is wrong. If they catch us—”
“For God’s sake, stop it. We’ve been through this a thousand times. We can’t go on living like this,” Monica said.
“Don’t talk so loud, he might hear you.”
“You know he can’t hear, and even the hearing aid doesn’t help anymore. I can’t increase the dose. It would be too suspicious.”
“But it would be over sooner. It makes me feel terrible watching him suffer so much.”
Monica coughed. “Today,” she said, “I mentioned to him that the faucet in the kitchen needs changing. You know how much he gave me?”
“How much?”
“He found a ten-dollar bill in his old wallet and gave me that. The old skinflint! Ever since he won that half million in the lottery, he’s been even stingier than before. I can’t understand it.”
- - -
The dog turned her head toward the doorway Maria was coming through. Gordon also looked up.
Taking her seat, Maria said, “That was my daughter on the phone. At the age of forty, she has decided to study art. And of course she doesn’t have the money to pay for it. I don’t mind supporting her, but this is the third time she’s come up with something new to study and she hasn’t taken a single exam yet. I don’t know what to think.”
Gordon stroked the dog’s neck and said, “Perhaps it’s best if you leave her alone.”
“You may be right,” Maria said with a nod. “Gordon, you look pensive today. Are you feeling alright?” Without waiting for his reply, she went on. “I nearly forgot. I thought I saw two police officers in front of your house yesterday.”
“What police officers? I didn’t see anyone.”
She waved a hand. “I knew it couldn’t be anything serious. I just wanted to ask.”
Gordon mumbled something and turned his face to the sun. It seemed pointless to spoil such a beautiful day. He was fond of Maria, but if he told her the sad news the police had delivered, she wouldn’t leave him alone. And all he wanted was some peace.
She said, “I wanted to go shopping yesterday, but my car wouldn’t start. I’ll call AAA to have a look. Or maybe I should scrap it. The poor thing is over twenty years old.”
“Don’t be silly,” Gordon said angrily, “you know I’m a mechanic. Let’s go and have a look.”
He thought of the brakes he had worked on two days back. At first he figured he wouldn’t be able to do it, that things had changed too much, but in the end he had managed.
“But Gordon, you can’t ... not at your age.”
He winked at her. “Maria, you wouldn’t believe the things I can do at my age.”
* * * * *
About the Author
Ian Fox was born in Slovenia (EU), and has also lived in the U.S.A., France, and Germany. He is fluent in English, French, and German. Because of his extensive international experience, his books are set in the U.S.A. or Europe. Ian’s books have enjoyed great success in Europe. He has published three crime (mystery) novels that have sold very well and been ranked among the top 100 most borrowed library books in Slovenia. He is currently working on two new novels. Enthusiastic readers write to him, saying they can’t put his books down and read them in a few days. Individual libraries have ranked his works among the top ten, sometimes even the top five most-borrowed books.
Connect with me online:
Website: https://ianfox.si/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ianfoxwriter
Twitter: @IanFox2
My blog: https://howtopromoteebook.blogspot.com/
About Other Books:
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