By Ahmed Latif
We drove home in absolute silence, which was still better than abject silence. We had given into the darkness but for different reasons. I gave in because I was scared of happiness. I was terrified that I didn’t deserve it, not one inch of it. She gave into the darkness because of me. She thought she was the reason for my unhappiness.
In the darkness we drove, accompanied by no hatred or resentment. This was a victory for us; that we still hadn’t grown bitter towards one another. We were just at home in the darkness; at home next to one another. The streetlights wafted in and out of our world. This empty and repetitive pattern with its sad and perturbed satisfaction, was as close to happiness as I could ever get.
The heavy blue clouds muddied the nighttime skies; the car nearly out of gas; and us in resolute silence: this was a microcosm of my life.
In that moment, nothing horrified me more than the prospect of words. My mind trembled in fear of what could be said? We could bring up how we scratch, claw, and scar each other with our love. We could also do worse but we both knew that the silent darkness kills slower than those ‘enlightened words’. So we spared each other and revelled in the brutish and beautiful ambience of nighttime in the suburbs.
I was never one for bliss, especially the domestic type. Yet here I was filling up the vast darkness with as much silence as I can get. I was devouring the simplicity of our love. I was always drawn to the intricate and convoluted yet here I am with a taste for simple bliss.
My mind entertained itself, against my better judgement, with anything other than the road.
We arrived home, to our shared abode of darkness. She went inside and as I closed the garage door I watched the tree on our lawn. If it had one wish, it would wish to be right here, right now.