Romantic Short Story – The Language of Love
Photo credit: earl53 from morguefile.com
Silence.
That is what you will hear if you come to my house.
Absolute silence.
But if you stop and listen long enough, listen with your heart, you’ll hear the sounds of love emanate through every inch of our walls.
I met Jack at a party.
It was weird. I wasn’t even going to go to that party.
I would neither be able to listen to the music or talk to those people.
Sitting on a stool, watching the men stare at me, trying to read their lips didn’t seem enjoyable to me.
But my friend Natasha, my only friend who can actually talk and hear, wouldn’t let me stay at home and eat my Pizza that night.
So, I had to go.
The moment we entered the street where the party was, my skin began to tingle.
I imagined it to be the loud music and the buzz of people.
As we got off the car, a few feet away from the toilet paper decorated house, Natasha danced away through the crowds while I searched for an empty place to sit amongst the drunk chicks and horny men.
In less than fifteen minutes, a couple of decent looking guys walked over to me.
This is a routine. The boys like how I look. Ever since I was a child, my mother has been telling me that everyone thinks I’m gorgeous.
Anyway, that night, the moment I started with my sign language, it put them off and they walked away, apologizing for my ‘disability’.
I shrugged.
I always considered my deafness to be my gift.
It warded off shallowness.
A short while after those men walked away, another one came towards me.
I rolled my eyes and started with my sign language, telling him I was deaf, before he could say anything.
His face relaxed into a beautiful smile as he showed me that he was too.
As the night went on, our hands dancing in our silent conversation, I realized that this man called Jack was wonderful.
He was an inspirational motivator for deaf kids, a job I didn’t even know to exist.
I told him how I was an artist, putting into images the emotions that I couldn’t speak out.
He thought that was very cool. Glancing at his watch, he shrugged as he told me he had to leave.
But could we meet again?
I nodded, my eagerness evident.
Shyly, we hugged, concreting our new born friendship.
Exactly a week later, we met again, this time, at a park.
It suited us more, the peace that we could feel and the beauty that we could see.
No one will disturb us here, he signed and I blushed. He carried on, letting me know that I was the most gorgeous women he had ever met. He proceeded by telling me that I shouldn’t take that wrongly. That while I looked amazing, he was sure that I was an even better human being.
I pointed at a girl walking by in her high heels, totally unsuitable for a park, as she struggled with her perfectly manicured nails to tame her wonderfully set hair.
She’s more gorgeous; I told him, raising an eyebrow and winking.
He grinned and shook his head.
She’s vain, he replied, showing me how her chin jutted upwards as she walked and how, while I had worn jeans to the park, she had decided to wear a dress to show off her legs.
I can’t look at her legs when she’s acting like she’s better than us, he stated.
Just like he said, she turned to look at us, sighing and making sad faces at our sign language.
We laughed.
I don’t know when our playful flirting turned to love but we expressed it the night we went out for a movie.
I know, it sounds weird, right? How were we going to enjoy a movie?
But Jack insisted we went and I readily agreed, more than happy to be with him, not bothering about where we were. He could take me behind a dumpster and I’d still love him.
He got me some popcorn as we settled in our corner seats, with his arm wrapped securely around my shoulder.
Once the movie began, Jack and I began interpreting our own dialogues, careful not to disturb the others.
We made all the dramatic scenes comical and giggled silently, turning all the comic parts into tragedies in our own language.
But when it came to a romantic scene, Jack signed ‘I love you’.
At first I thought he was still interpreting the dialogues and I signed back ‘But I’m a cannibal’.
Undeterred, he went on. ‘I love how your hair tickles my face when you come close to me. I love how you smell of exotic flowers. Mostly, I love how we can bond in silence’.
I looked at him, my fingers shaking, my heart beating faster than ever before.
Clutching his fingers as he began to frame an ‘I’m sorry”, misreading my expression of shock, I pulled him closer to me and kissed him, just like that.
We held hands for the rest of the movie, no longer interpreting the story in the film but planning the rest of our lives.
It was a wonderful story to tell our friends.
What if I hadn’t turned up to the party that night? I expressed, shuddering, unable to imagine my life without him.
Then I’m sure I’d have come to your house as the Pizza Delivery Boy, you retorted, making me laugh.
I invite you to my house where you’ll truly be able to appreciate the beauty of silence and the depth of emotions that travel through the air.
You’ll find me in my art room, amongst tens and hundreds of canvases, the floor dirty with paint and the walls covered with colour.
You’ll see the brightness in my eyes and the delicate strokes on the fresh white board.
But if you stand there, close your eyes and open your ears, you’ll hear my heart beating for Jack.
We got married a year ago, four years after our first meeting.
I told him not to get me an engagement ring. I didn’t need one.
But he did anyway, and now it rests on my finger, shining brightly.
It’s a proof of our love, he told me once.
I disagreed. Our silence when we were together was a proof of our love. Not this expensive rock.
But I respect his gesture and I love him for it.
The key turns in the door.
You’re wondering how I can hear it, right?
I don’t hear it.
I just know.
Putting the paint brush aside, I hold my skirt above my knees, hopping through paint cans as I greet Jack at the door with a kiss, crushing the rose he has got for me between us.
He smiles contentedly, his day fruitful after a wonderful session.
Taking the flower, I put it in our vase, amongst all the others he has gotten me over the week.
We don’t really earn much.
My paintings and Jack’s sessions give us enough to survive.
We don’t need luxuries when we have happiness.
Besides, we have our love.
And that’s the only luxury we need.
