The Cost of Conversation by Tpa Artwork by suzannethompson2 at FanArtReview.com |
Emily regretted her decision, but she had no alternative. She had a vast burden of pressure during the recent months of her life and persuaded herself that she made the wise choice
A frail lady in her mid-sixties, Emily liked to cook, enjoyed making quilts, delighted with bird watching, and remarkably fond of the art of conversation. Many of her family and friends wished she never relished the latter because she never quit talking. Some claimed it was a curse, at least for those that had to listen. Of course, many ladies were cold-hearted and walked away while she was talking, but Emily followed them to conclude her conversation and start a new one. A few women felt compassion for Emily, especially when Emily became a widow, and her disabled sister could no longer fend for herself. Emily became her caregiver. She had no objections to taking up the task, except for the financial despair that soon advanced into a burden. She seized the mission fully, and in fact, felt it would make a good conversation. However, many of her family and friends balked at the subject, but Emily continued talking and talking about the topic. It ignored some ladies and infuriated one. It occurred one Friday afternoon. The ladies of the community met at the Portage Park Clubhouse. Each Friday, they would play a game of bridge. They also enjoyed telling juicy gossip about their neighbors that caused some of the ladies' cheeks to blush. As the women filled a table with salads, various types of lunchmeat and a variety of buns, they told their stories before Emily appeared because they knew her lips would move like the midnight express. "Good afternoon," Emily said in her soft tone, sauntering into the room. She carried a plate of homemade apple slices and a small parcel of raisin-nut cookies clinging to her arm by plastic straps. "I wanted to make gingerbread, but I forgot the ginger. The strawberries were expensive, and I knew Sophie hated bananas, so the cream pie was out of the question." She told all that before she put down her plate of apple slices. Already, the girls had pains brewing in their heads, knowing their voices would cease for the rest of the day. While they began munching on the food, Emily started chatting about her sister, Nancy. "Nancy spilled her breakfast on the floor in the nursing home, and she stepped into the oatmeal. The nurse told me- " "SHUT UP!" A cloud of silence blanketed the room. Some ladies dropped their lower jaws, while others almost choked on their raisin-nut cookies. Many of them raised their eyebrows, dropping their feeding utensils from their hands. "What do you mean shut up?" Emily grumbled. Her eyes opened wide as her cheeks blazed with fury. "I mean, my ears heard enough. So, be quiet." Mrs. Victoria Davis declared, pulling back her big shoulders and wrinkling her bulbous nose. "All the drugs in the world couldn't stop the hammering in my head inflicted by your constant babble." The other ladies looked stunned. Nobody ever had the nerve to accost Emily, although many preferred she would shut up. With all the problems Emily had, the ladies resisted provoking anymore sorrow, even though at that moment they felt jubilation in their hearts that someone put the old lady in her place. Mrs. Davis spared no mercy, staring with her cold green eyes at Emily, "I had enough of your gibberish." Victoria was a wealthy widow, the most prosperous woman in town. Her late husband had been a judge and a professor. He gave Victoria enough money to purchase her own private island in Hawaii, but Mrs. Davis refuted such a desire. Instead, she acquired a Gothic mansion of sixteen rooms, nine servants and an acreage of land for her five Poodles. She also enjoyed expressing her flourishing fortune to everyone she met. "I can talk whenever I want and nothing can stop me." Emily frowned as she hunched her square, narrow shoulders, and finding it an insult, Mrs. Davis demanded that she remain silent. "How about twenty-five thousand dollars?" Victoria said, pursing her thick lips into a derisive smile. Emily took a deep swallow, thinking her hearing went haywire. The ladies, themselves, looked just as shock. Some women froze like they saw a ghost while others tapped the side of their heads, making certain they heard right. "T-Twenty-f-five thousand dollars," Emily's eyes nearly popped from her sockets, with the odd feeling her hearing was loss or Victoria went berserk. "It is worth the cost to keep those lips from moving," Mrs. Davis snickered, and proud of herself that she was the only one that had the courage to put Emily in her place. Emily felt her tongue was paralyzed, unable to form words as anger sizzled through her veins while butterflies swarmed in her stomach. "STOP TALKING! And, if I don't" she sneered. "If you renege during the period, I win." "I can't afford such an enormous reimbursement." she scoffed, realizing her bills mounted higher than the Empire State Building. "No problem," she guffawed. "My reward will be that you walk my dogs for a year and clean their poop during their travels." Emily's knees buckled. She nearly dropped to the floor if it hadn't been for the chair behind her. She gripped the arms of the chair and stepped backward until her backside fell on the cushion. Her cheeks turned red from humiliation. Fiery was in Emily's eyes that Victoria considered Emily as a mere DOG SITTER, especially when Mrs. Davis knew the woman despised animals. The other ladies looked surprised. Some of them dropped their cups of tea while others gave a sigh of disbelief. However, they refrained from showing any expression of joy, knowing they could definitely talk with Emily in the room. After several seconds of collecting her thoughts, Emily reputed the bet and stormed out of the building with her nerves knotted and tears falling down her crimson cheeks. She stepped into her house and sat on the sofa. Remaining furious, she promised herself to never impose upon those women again. They are all scoundrels, she thought, realizing none of the ladies came to her defense. "I rather see that Victoria bitch clean up her own dog's poo," she said, walking to the refrigerator and grabbing a bottle of wine from the top shelf. She removed a goblet from the cupboard, uncorked the bottle, and poured the wine into the glass. She swallowed down the wine in one swig, vowing her nerves would settle more rapidly. However, the result proved negative so, she poured another. While on her fourth glass, Emily saw an unopened letter on the kitchen table. She opened the envelope after reading returned address. It read: Grand Oaks Nursing Home, where her sister lived. Tension rose as her hand trembled as she skimmed the letter. Emily never received correspondence from the institution before by mail, other than a mere advertisement of their marvelous deeds that would enhance the quality of life at affordable prices. However, this letter implied no extraordinary accomplishments that would enlighten anyone to live there or even visit. Instead, the content of the letter brought Emily to tears. Her moist eyes skittered across the lines, declaring her sister would require additional medical treatment with added costs. An element Emily could do without. She already received the news, a week before, that land her departed husband once acquired, sold it without her knowledge, and applied those funds to pay-off a gambling debt, which she never knew he accumulated. The clouds of doom continued when she also learned her deceased husband cashed in all their savings to purchase a tavern that went under a month afterward. Reading the letter and harping on her husband's business investment, Emily could only forecast the bleakness of her future, dark as a night sky without the glitter of one twinkling star. She concluded a ride into the lake would be her only solution, but she thought of her sister. Emily needed to take care of Nancy, a promise Emily gave to her mother before her death. With the heavy pounding in her heart and the hammering in her head, poor, frail Emily had to discover a resolution. Her mind was dense as a London fog until the midst lifted and in her head, she saw the image of Victoria Davis. She smiled melancholy, hastened to carry out such a harsh decision, but one she must tolerate because of her love for Nancy. A week had passed when Emily returned to the club. It shocked the ladies as she entered the room. Emily, herself, was just as stunned at returning to the place. She looked as though she had become an enemy facing a firing squad, waiting for their commander to execute the first shot. "Good afternoon, Emily. It is so nice to see you," said one lady. "I'm sure you are," Emily sneered. "Is Victoria around?" Another lady pointed to the other room. "She's having tea and biscuits. I made them." The lady giggled. "Would you like some?" "I'm not hungry," Emily scoffed, then stomped into the next room. Mrs. Davis sat at a table, conversing with one of her neighbors, when her eyes settled upon Emily rushing through the door, and advancing to the table. "Well, Emily, it is so nice to see you. Did you come to play cards or just to talk?" Victoria remarked in a prudish manner that caused a riffle of laughter from the ladies in the room. A surge of adrenalin traveled through Emily's body, enough that made her teeth clenched, and the urge to pick up the spoon laying on the table and shoving it down Mrs. Davis' throat. Instead, Emily controlled her tirades, all for the sake of her sister. "I-Is that w-wager still o-offered?" Emily stuttered as her nerves began tangling. Lifting her double chin, Mrs. Davis gave a hearty laughter. "Of course, my dear, my word is as sacred as the Bible." With all eyes upon Emily, she took inhaled a deep breath and let it escaped before the words spilled from her quavering lips. "I shall honor your ludicrous request beginning next Friday and all the Fridays after that. Now, when will I get the money?" "Not so fast," Mrs. Davis said, sitting upright with her shoulders straight back, knowing well she was now in command. "My offer goes far beyond than just our mere association at the end of the week." "What do mean?" Emily stared at the woman with the insides of her stomach going topsy-turvy, disturbed that Mrs. Davis had implemented a different arrangement. "You must adhere to your silence to everyone in town before I reward you with any compensation." "WHAT?" Emily raised her brows. "That was never in our arrangement." "It is now," Victoria smirked. "If my ruling won't exist, then I shall call the whole proposition off." "NO!" Emily barked, fearing the great loss that will happen to her sister's care. The ladies smiled when Emily still accepted the bet. "I agree to your nonsense. However, I need to make plans with the nursing home." "Agreed. I will give you until tomorrow. After that, you shall be silent for one year." Emily nodded. "And to make certain you abide by the rules, I will advertise in the paper that anyone hears you talking, I will reward them with a check of one thousand dollars." The women gasped as they heard the amount. Some ladies even fashioned ideas of engaging Emily in conversation in order to take home the stipend. Assured by all the rules, Emily made her farewell and went home. Tears glistened in her eyes as she sat on her couch, calling the nursing home and telling the Director she will be away on business and will take care of her financial responsibilities upon her return. Ending the call, Emily took a shower and went out on the town, talking to everyone she knew and even to people she didn't. She went home, fell asleep and woke up to her first day of silence. She walked into the living room, opened the front door, and grabbed the morning paper from the front porch. With drowsy eyes, Emily proceeded to the kitchen. She took a mug with painted morning glories from the cabinet and went to the stove where her coffee brewed and poured a cup. She walked to the kitchen table and sat down on the wooden chair. While sipping her hot, black coffee, Emily unrolled the newspaper. As she turned the pages, her eyes nearly torn from her sockets as her cheek blushed with fury. In bold, black letters, Emily saw Mrs. Davis' announcement of the reward. Emily's watery eyes settled on the table where two pens and a pad of paper laid. Sorrowfully, she picked them up, placed her new tools of communication in her purse, and began her new life. Days and weeks past. Emily remained saddened and quite disturbed. She wanted so much to engage in the art of conversation, speaking about the President who she hated very much or wanted to express her views on Brad Pitt winning the Oscar that she didn't think he deserved it. She could have written her explanation, but Emily realized it would be too much paper. There were plenty of times that people would antagonize Emily, especially at the club, trying to indulge in the art of conversation, and hoping to retrieve the reward. Some ladies asked, "Emily, what's the recipe for gingerbread cookies?" Others said, "You have a nice dress. Where did you buy it?" Emily always responded through the written word. Some ladies pretended they were eager for her opinion, but Emily shrugged her shoulders and wrote, I'll tell you next year. The ladies laughed when Emily threaded out the door. Many of them saw dollar's signs in their heads, praying that one word would roll off her tongue. Even the pompous Mrs. Davis tried tricking the old lady into talking about birds, one of Emily's favorite topics. "I saw a small bird in my backyard. I never laid my eyes upon such a creature ever in my life. It was a beautiful fowl, having a bright yellow forehead and body. The head was brown with a large white patch on its wing. Perhaps, my description can give you a recall of its name." Emily shook her head. Although, she knew the bird was a male grosbeak from the Finch family. She realized Victoria tried ending their game. Instead, Emily stepped away to another room with a gleam in her eye for her victorious feat. During Emily's absence, Mrs. Davis gave a wink and said to the other women, "I'll make her talk, and by the year's end, she'll be cleaning my dog's poop." When Emily went shopping and couldn't locate an item, she jotted it down and showed the clerks her note. They claimed her writing was atrocious to read and thought she wrote like a four-year-old. Some clerks crumbled her paper and threw it on the floor, leaving Emily alone, and crying in the aisle. The sadness plagued her heart, but she refused to give up as the bills mounted and her savings diminished. As the year moved on, Emily praised herself, keeping her strength for overcoming any obstacles that would break her vow of silence. However, many people continued luring Emily into breaking her silence for their own gains. Purchasing an Etch-a-Sketch, she reduced the cost of pads and pencils. But the most significant evolvement came when she got to know her neighbors, and they spoke without Emily interrupting them. Emily never knew her neighbor next door had a blind child, or the man across the street wrote self-help books, and the woman down the block was an ex-con who became a nun. She marveled at the opportunity of getting acquainted with her neighbors because of her silence. Her neighbors were in a state of bliss. For the first time in Emily's presence, they could speak without her interrupting. One afternoon, a tragic incident almost happened. A man in a wheelchair started crossing the street when a car began backing up with the back bumper soon to engage with the side of the wheelchair. Emily almost screamed when bells clanged in her head. Immediately, her lips pressed together as she saw from the corner of her eye one of her neighbors. Fortunately, the neighbor saw the same incident and let out a scream that got everyone's attention, including the driver. The driver who never saw the wheelchair slammed on his brakes. He stepped out of the car and saw the crippled man. The driver pushed the wheelchair onto the curb to safety, climbed into his car, and drove away. All were safe, but the incident made Emily to wonder. She knew if she made a bleep, the game would have surely ended. Emily worried another incident may happen and lose all that money. Her friends would laugh. They would think of her as being weak. Emily thought the pain of losing would be dreadful. She did something about it and called upon a friend of her late husband. Please, Hank. She wrote. "Emily, NO! I can't! I WON'T" the bald-headed man paced across his office, declaring that Emily was in a state of lunacy. She repeated her plea on her Etch-a-Sketch, fearing someone may hear her talking. "It's nonsense." He thought the procedure was unethical, denounced by his colleagues, and could even lose his license. Still, he was compassion as the woman poured her tears, explaining the poor life she will have and the tragedy to her sister. Emily completed her writ of despair by inscribing on her writing mechanism that he was the only friend of her husband's that would help her. After a few hours of haggling, Hank, somewhat adversative to Emily's wish, finally agreed. A week passed by before Emily went home. She felt good and very certain nothing would stop her from winning all that money. Many people asked where she had gone, but she wouldn't tell-she couldn't. The year had finally ended. Ladies of the club gathered around the table. All were anxious, waiting for Emily to embellish in her victory, but she uttered not a word. "You can talk now. You won!" one lady stated. Emily pushed back her shoulders and shook her head. She had no remorse for relinquishing any form of communication. She concluded all had denounced her as a chatter bug and therefore refused to be mocked again. Mrs. Davis sat at the head of the table. Much to her dismay, she wrinkled her nose as she gave the check to Emily. She took the check and stuffed it in her purse. Emily stood up and exited without a vowel slipping off her tongue. "Not even a thank you." Mrs. Davis scoffed. "I'm astounded," said another lady. "Emily was never like this. I remembered she once wouldn't stop talking even when she munched on French fries." "Oh, I'm sure within a week," Mrs. Davis assured them, "Words will spill from her mouth like water from a leaky faucet." However, they never saw Emily again. She took care of Nancy and placed her in a better facility. Emily saw her sister with a big smile, engaging in so much chatter. It pleased Emily very much, not only listening to Nancy, but to her neighbors as well. For her, it was a great experience to know the gift of conversation was also listening. One day, Emily sat on the beach. A handsome gentleman approached her. He asked her many questions, but she didn't answer. "Is there a reason for your silence," he asked. Emily smiled. She knew many would redeem her reason as ludicrous, but because of it she made so many new friends. She took her Etch-a Sketch and wrote to the gentleman, my husband's friend, Dr. Hank Givens at my request, helped me to a life I selflessly ignored by extracting out my vocal cords.
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