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Empty Silence

An Explanation
The Smile of a Clown
The Best of Friends
The Party
Gentle Rain
And Other Things...
A Forever Moment
The Good Place
Memories of Farewell
A Dream So Sweet
Empty Silence

We both are lost
and alone in the world
Walk with me
in the gentle rain
Don't be afraid, I've a hand
for your hand and I
will be your love for a while...⁽¹⁾

"You 'kay Brad ?"
"Yeah, Kev' !" he hollered over his shoulder as he once more pulled his tie apart in frustration; he had not realized how loud his cursing had been. "I'm fine !"
For the fifth or sixth time - he had lost count - Brad went through the motions of tying his tie: around, around, up-under, through the cave....
"Damn !"
And for the fifth - or sixth - time, he pulled it apart in frustration when the result was the same as each time before: one tongue noticeably longer than the other.
"'kin I help ?"
Jumping slightly at the sound of Kevin almost at his elbow, Brad turned to his brother; the look of frustration which had been plainly evident on his face seconds earlier was now replaced with a wide smile.
"Thanks, Kev'" he assured his brother as he once more attempted to get the knot right, "but I think I can get it."
"You sure ?"
"Yeah..." but again it came out wrong, this time with the other tongue hanging about two inches below the first. Angrily, he pulled the tie over his head and threw it to the floor.
"I don't really need a tie, do I ?" He asked as he turned to see Kevin laughing at the frustrated look on his own face.
Before Kevin could answer, though, the sound of a knock on the front door caused them both to momentarily forget the tie. In a flash, Kevin was off; even as he disappeared from view, Brad called out after him:
"Why don't you get it."
"'kay !"
Leaving the tie where he had thrown it, Brad turned back to look in the mirror, using one hand to brush a loose strand of hair from where it hung absently over his left eye.
Not too bad, I guess, he thought as he let his hand drop back down to his side. Considering what I had to start with...
"Staci !!"
Satisfied that he had made himself as presentable as he could, he finally reached down and retrieved the - damn thing - necktie before turning out the bathroom light and moving out into the hall, just in time to see Kevin and Staci - a movie in one hand, with something half-hidden behind it - coming his way.
"Look, Brad ! It's Staci !"
"So I see. Hi."
"Hi."
With Kevin taking the lead, the trio made their way into the living room.
"Dressed like that, you look good enough to eat."
Despite the cliche, and the almost rehearsed way she said it - not that she didn't mean it, just that with her profession she had said it countless times before, though always before with a different motive - Brad blushed at the compliment.
"Thanks."
"Staci brought 'movie, Brad ! A Disney !!"
"Really ? Wasn't that nice of her ?"
"Yeah, nice ! Staci's real nice !"
Picking up his jacket where he had laid it on the back of a chair earlier, Brad turned around in time to see Kevin give action to his emotions by hugging the slender dirty-blonde in his own clumsy way, taking Staci by surprise.
"Not so hard, Kevin !" she laughed while trying to free one tangled arm from where the youth had unintentionally pinned it against her hip. "I might break !"
"I won't break you !" he laughed right back, his high-pitched giggle echoing through the small apartment. At the same time, though, he visibly loosened his grip, allowing Staci to free her arm.
"Okay, Kev," Brad spoke up at last. "That's enough. It's time to get your pj's on. Let go of Staci and go wash up, first."
"Awww..."
"Go on, Kev."
"'kay."
Reluctantly, Kevin removed his arms from around Staci; when she held up the bag of microwave popcorn she had been holding behind the movie, though, his reluctance gave way to excitement.
"Ssshh," she whispered conspiratorially - more for the younger brother's benefit; Brad could still hear every word - when she saw he was about to say something, "it's our secret."
"I go change !"
"Don't just splash water on your face," Brad yelled after him, "use the soap !"
"'kay !"
Once the sound of running water - and Kevin humming some song he had heard earlier in the day - started, Staci set the movie and the popcorn - she made no effort to hide the microwave bag - down on the coffee table and reached out towards Brad.
"Here, give me the tie."
"What... oh. Here."
"You sound excited," she noted semi-sarcastically as she wrapped the slim material about her own neck and began to tie it.
"I am. Really," he hastily added, "I'm just nervous, that's all."
"When was the last time you went out ?"
"You, me and Kevin go out all the time..."
"That's not what I meant. When was the last time you went out with a girl ? Just the two of you ? You know, on a date ? Here."
He didn't answer as he moved closer to her, bending forward slightly so that she could place the tie over his head.
"Well ?"
When she lifted his chin with her hand, he had no choice but to look into her eyes - she had put her face only inches from his own.
"I've never..." he started, but faltered.
Understanding his hesitancy at last, Staci smiled warmly and nodded, the tender warmth filling her voice as she softly whispered: "You'll do fine."
"I hope so..."
"All finished ! Time for popcorn !!"
"That was our secret !" and "You're not in your pj's !" Brad and Staci both said at the same time.
The double admonition took Kevin by surprise, and his mouth dropped open.
It was Brad who finally broke the silent tableau, stepping around Staci as he moved towards his brother.
"It's okay, Kev. You startled us, that's all." Gone was the stammering which had been evident only moments earlier. "Let's go get your pj's on, then you and Staci can have popcorn and watch your movie."
"You're not mad ?" Whether about the popcorn or the fact that he had startled them wasn't clear.
"No, Kev. I'm not mad."
Reaching out and taking one of Kevin's hands in his own, he started to lead him back towards the bedrooms. The tender touch of Brad's hands caused any uncertainty to dissipate.
"Popcorn !"
"Where do you think you're going ?"
Both brother's turned to look back at Staci.
"Kevin can dress himself. You, on the other hand..." there was no doubt in her look that she was referring to the tie around his neck, knotted, but still hanging loosely down the front of his white shirt. "You need a woman's touch..."

They were singing a song for you
Well it seemed to be a song for you
The one I wanted to write for you, for you, you...⁽²⁾

before shutting off the engine and climbing out of the car.
Even for late Spring - Summer was still officially over a week away - the early evening air was warm enough that he did not have to wear his jacket, but he kept it on anyway, just in case; after living his whole life in the city, he knew the weather was as unpredictable as... well, the weather.
Closing the car door behind him, he nervously began to make his way up the street, his eyes taking in the faded gold numbers on the front's of the old Brownstone houses/apartments.
17
Because his dress jacket was new - second hand, that is; new to him, bought especially for the occasion - he could feel the tightness at his shoulders where the material refused to stretch
19
as his arms moved in time to his footsteps; likewise, the black dress shoes he wore pinched his toes uncomfortably inward. Glancing up from the sidewalk, he could just make out a figure in the dimly lit foyer of
21
the next house, apparently fumbling with keys in an effort to lock the inner door. When he came to a halt on the sidewalk in front of Chris' place,
23
he watched as the figure finished its task and began to turn to open the outer door - his heart was pounding frantically in his chest, as if to the sounds of an upbeat jazz band.
"Oh !"
At the sight of someone standing patiently at the foot of her stairs, watching her, Chris gave a startled cry. Recognizing Brad - she had seen him walking up the sidewalk, but had not expected him to get to her doorstep quite so fast - she tried to cover her nervous exclamation with a laugh.
"You scared me."
"I'm..." he started to apologize.
"Don't start that again." she cut him off with a mock look of severity.
His mouth opened to apologize for his first apology, but then quickly closed again as he realized what he had been about to do.
"You look nice," he said instead, meaning each word.
And she did.
Dressed in dark jeans which clung to her form - not too tight and not too loose - a burgundy blouse and a black, calf-length leather jacket, hanging open, with its matching belt dangling at her waist, she was everything he had remembered from the party. And more...
"Thanks. I feel a little under-dressed, though," she admitted as she took in the dress clothes he was wearing.
"Oh, I... I wasn't sure what to wear," he stammered. "This is my... ah... first date."
"Really ?" Her grayish-green eyes widened slightly in genuine surprise at his admission, causing him to look down at the sidewalk in embarrassment.
"I wasn't going to say anything..."
"That's okay," she spoke into the silence, grinning good-naturedly, even though he wasn't looking at her face. "It may as well be my first date, too, it's been so long."
Still embarrassed - not to mention that he was naturally shy - he shrugged his shoulders and continued to look down at the ground.
"Oh, come on," she said at last, reaching out and taking one of his arms in both of hers as she began to walk down the street. "It'll be fun !"
They had taken a dozen steps before Brad regained his composure enough to turn them around so they were walking towards his car.

The restaurant had been full when they arrived; they heard a trio of guys leaving say that it would be at least an hour wait for a table. Outside, Brad had apologized for not planning ahead and getting a reservation. Chris only had to threaten him once to make him stop, before suggesting they forget about dinner and do something else. Like pool, she offered, glancing at the hall across the street.

and then took the shot, giving a startled - but excited - cry when the '10' ball went into the pocket.
"I thought you said you hadn't played in a long time ?"
"I haven't. Honest !" she answered his mock-accusation with an enthusiastic shake of her head. "It was a lucky shot !"
"Right..."
At his off-hand gesture towards the table, she took a second shot, proving her point by hitting the cue ball, but missing everything else.
"See ?"
"Okay," he laughed. "You convinced me !"
Moving in, Brad took a moment to consider the lay of the balls before shooting.
"So... are you from here ?"
Straight as an arrow, the cue ball struck the '1,' sending it into the corner pocket.
"A lucky shot,'" he echoed her earlier statement as he moved around the edge of the table to line up his next one. "Of course, I never said that I've never played before..."
"Shark."
"I'm from here originally," she went on a second later, answering his question. "I moved to Ottawa about six months after I was born."
"What did you do there ?" Shoot. "Before moving back here, I mean."
The '2' ball, side pocket.
"Hustler," she accused good-naturedly before going on. "I went to university: Chemistry. While going to school I was a waitress and a bartender for a while. It wasn't just a bar, though - we sold books and music.
"What kind of music ?"
Single bank-shot; the '3' ball, the opposite side pocket.
"Free Jazz, mostly."
"Free Jazz ?" Turning his gaze from the table, he looked up at her for the first time since sinking the '1.' " Sounds interesting. I've always liked jazz, myself."
"It's not jazz like most people know it. It's sort of alternative; 'stretching the boundaries of music...' It's funny: sometimes, when there are shows, people come thinking it's traditional jazz for free."
"I can see that."
"Yeah, but once they have to pay to get in, only to find that it's some guy playing a cappuccino machine... most of them leave pretty quick. Are you going to shoot, or can I have a turn ?" she finished, motioning at the table with her stick.
"Sorr..." Cutting himself off this time, he bent back over the table and - "A cappuccino machine ? People actually buy recordings of that ?" - the '4' ball disappeared in the corner pocket,
"You'd be surprised... yeah, it sells, believe it or not."
"What else ?"
followed by the '5.'
"I also used to have a show on a local radio station." Standing her cue against the wall, Chris leaned beside it, crossing her arms over her breasts. "Well, me and a guy had a show; it was mostly him, but we alternated. There was one time that he played the 'world's quietest song'; people thought that the show had gone off the air. And then there was one piece - someone had taken the sound of hair, and amplified it."
"Hair ? What, growing ?"
Double-bank; the '7' ball, top corner.
"I don't know. You couldn't tell if it was hair growing, or someone shaking their head, or what."
"I take what I said back. It doesn't sound interesting; it sounds bizarre." Despite the words, it was obvious he was not making a judgement, just his own opinion.
All of his own balls gone from the table, he took a moment to consider the last shot.
"Some of it is. It's not all like that, though. A lot of it does have a melody, and people singing."
"What made you decide to come back ? If I'm not prying ?"
Another double-bank shot, and the '8' ball rolled gently to the edge of a side pocket, balancing for a split second before tipping in.
"Game."
Looking up from the table - and seeing Chris leaning against the wall, just staring at him in stunned surprise - Brad finally realized what he had done: cleaned the table, when she had only had two shots. He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off with a friendly wave of her hand, motioning him back to the table.
"You may as well finish up."
"You're sure ?"
At her nod - and a smile to show her admiration of his game - he turned his gaze back to the table, while she went on to answer his question.
"No, you're not prying. I was growing restless. I mean, I had gotten my Bachelor of Science, but it wasn't really what I wanted."
"What do you mean ?"
The '9,' side pocket.
"I don't know. I always got good marks and everything; it was a really great department. But there seemed to be something missing. Whenever I went anywhere, the Arts people were always talking about fiction and history, news and movies... With a background in science, it wasn't often that I could get really involved in the conversation. Almost never, actually. I always felt like I was missing out on that camaraderie."
With the '10' gone from the table, he lined up the '11' - "So you just decided to throw everything away, come back here and start caring for people like Kevin ?" - shot - "More or less, yes." - and missed.
Noticing the reluctance in her tone, he stepped back from the table and motioned her forward.
"Your shot."
"It's about time !"
Retrieving her stick, Chris eagerly moved to take her position at the table, lined up, and shot.
"Enough about me. What about you ? Where did you learn to play pool ?"
As they both watched, the cue ball struck one rail, then a second before tapping the '11' and dropping it into the corner pocket.
"Who's hustling who, here ?"
"I guess it's coming back to me..." she answered with a wide, innocent smile.
"Show off !" Moving to where his jacket hung, he reached in the pocket and pulled out his cigarettes.
"Well ?" she prompted.
"What ?" his cigarette lit, he turned back to Chris, who had stopped with her shot lined up, watching him as she bent over the green felt. "Where'd I learn to play pool ? Staci - a friend from my apartment building; she's watching Kev right now, actually," the last he had almost blurted out in an effort to convince Chris that Staci was just that - a friend - and nothing more. "She introduced Kev and me to the game about a year ago, and we've been playing at least a couple times a month since. Kev's really gotten quite good..."
As he trailed off, his mind obviously turning to his brother, wondering how he was making out with Staci, Chris looked back down at the table.
"Tell me about you and Kevin. And what about your parents ? Where are they ?"
Again the cue ball struck first one rail and then a second, before sinking the '12' ball.
"They're both dead."
"Oh, I'm sorry." she said, concern filling her voice as she involuntarily took a step towards him. "I didn't know."
"How could you ? It's okay - it was a long time ago."
She stopped before reaching him; his parents may have died a long time ago, but there was something in his voice - a slight hitching in his throat - that betrayed the truth of his emotions. Watching him stand there, momentarily lost in his thoughts, she wanted to ask the obvious question.
Out of respect for that hitching in his throat, she quietly turned back to the table.
"What about you and Kevin ?"
Her next shot sent the '14' ball the length of the table, dropping it in the corner opposite from where it had started.
"He really loves you, you know. And it's obvious that you love him, too."
"Yeah, I know. And I do. He's my brother. What else can I say ?"
"I think it's more than that. I think you'd care just as much for someone else in Kevin's condition, even if they weren't your brother. I don't know why, I just get that feeling about you, that you have a sensitive side, but try to hide it. Call it woman's intuition."
"Maybe..."
Clumsily trying to avoid the subject, Brad motioned to the last ball on the table - the '15.'
"Think I can make it ?" Chris asked with only a hint of good-natured sarcasm.

2. "Lavender," Fish, Yang, 1995