Silent Screams

                                            

                                               Just because my screams are silent

                                               That does not mean am not screaming

                                                      Paula Puddephatt

The tables were packed to the brim, different inebriating substances littered everywhere, some were drinking, others catching up on topical issues, some danced as the DJ played heart throbbing songs one after the other. Others were drunk already, some already enjoying the fantasy created by such feelings, others just sat there and watched. In one end, a group of young biceped men engaged in pool table while puffing away -albeit discreetly lest the fiery eyed bouncer spot them-the weed they were smoking, all this time she sat there, watching, evaluating her surrounding, studying it and the characters around but most importantly wondering about what had led her to that joint.

London Olympics games had just started and several screens showed the ongoing matches, many a time she lost focus about her surrounding and engaged her mind entirely on the ongoing games, trying to distract her mind and her stream of thoughts.

                                                                ……………….

Slowly he dived, deeper and deeper showing and exuberating the prowess of a pro, his body fully stretched as he emerged deeper into the welcoming pool of water, the slow-motion was a spectacular to behold, seems like his every move, maneuver and goal was being facilitated by the welcoming, embracing pool of water. For a moment her mind went blank, she imagined ‘him’ going deep, deeper into her as her womanhood gladly accepted him and wanting more, she felt the thrust that comes with it, the accompanying confusion before she was brought back to reality by a tap on her shoulder.

                                                          ……………………

‘Hey, you okay, you so quite?’ am good, she replied just mesmerized by this Olympics’ diver. But she hadn’t stopped there ‘he’ became a ghost, he wouldn’t let her be, and everything screamed ‘him’. How many people were going through these daily torments as her? How many people were actually there to drown their sorrows? To forget if only for a moment an aching heart?

‘So why are you here’? she asked one of the pals seated next to her. ‘Just broke up with my girlfriend, maaaan…that girl was a disaster, she wouldn’t let me be, she almost usurped life out of me. Do you miss her? She prodded……hmmmm, yeah, kind of but am happy we parted ways.

Few seats away some men broke into a fight for ogling another’s girlfriend and the ‘owner’ having felt that his ego was bruised had to teach this other man a lesson. In yet another corner two lovers held each other tight, not wanting to let go, devouring each moment of it, feeling each other’s warmth and presence.

                                       
Seated at her seat, sipping away a bottle of ice cold black Smirnoff ice, she felt broken, haunted, too many indeed so many words remained unspoken, she thought she would never mend. No one was able to read past the smiles, the laughs, the reservations, the guarded talks. She felt jinxed, jinxed on love, but why? Didn’t she give her best, her all? Why didn’t he give her time to prove herself? What happened to the steamy kisses? The cuddling, the soothing? The promises? Was he acting all this time? But why did he repeat the same mistake over and over again? Why was he betraying her trust? She had put him on a pedestal, but why didn’t he even have the audacity to set things straight, all she was yearning for was a closure. This suspense was proving to be too much. Ohh, the things she would have done for him, hmmm, but that was never to be. She remained hollow, disoriented, beaten and completely destroyed by the same man who had promised heaven on earth. She would summon the shared feelings and moments whenever she was down, but they were slowly becoming poisonous, some degree of loathing was creeping in, a hate-love affair was slowly playing out, maybe she needed to let go but most importantly she needed to talk to someone, but who? Her mum was no more and she couldn’t let the world know she was hurting so she had to keep her head high.

The two men she had loved fiercely, all left unceremoniously without giving her audience, would she be able to cope? Or was it high time she learnt how to throw tantrums, to get the world’s attention? If only she could fade away, dissolve, not having to face another pointless day and stop the existing-living affair, she would have been happier…much happier.

And so she gulped down the remaining bit of her drink, stepped to the dance floor and danced away to  Glen's smooth but pleading ballad ‘kindness for weakness’.