finding Voice

On a particularly long difficult day, after winning applause for her sharp wit, she wished she had used her voice when she need it the most. Instead, one morning, she had walked out of their home of seven years, in silence. She wished she had told him that the least he could do was to be nice to her. That his ineptness in making either conversation or love made it that much harder to bear his violent temper. She should have told him that his alcoholic rage broke her to bits, every single night. Instead, she had shrunk back into her shell of silence hoping for the morning to break, every night. She should have told him that his rare slurred ardour made her skin crawl and his crudeness had an unbearable stench. Instead she laid in bed, cold and bleeding after he was done satisfying himself. She should have told him that his feeling of inferiority was not hers to mend. Instead she let him blame her for everything that was wrong with him and in it he found new ways of abusing her, everyday. It is in those million silences that she choked to near death, till one insomniac night, she looked at her sleeping baby and decided to walk out of it all. She had hoped her silence will deafen his shrilling name calling. At the end, she had only hoped for relief. 

passing ships

They meet for the first time during a business visit. He is curious but reserved. She is intrigued but detached. Through the day they share polite banalities of their work life.

 

At the end of the long day; 

Interesting dude: Thank you for taking care of everything and sorry for all the trouble (smiles broadly, shaking her hand)
Clever dudess: (smiles) My pleasure really! I am used to chaperoning. (failed attempt at humour)
Interesting dude: (still holding her hand, still staring)
Clever dudess: (wonders why she had to make an ass of herself!) 

And the moment passes. Chances of meeting again, zero.