Sapphic Voices General Fiction

They Had Nothing To Say To Each Other

They had nothing to say to each other.

Leah and Indigo.

They had nothing to say to each other.

Leah ran that mantra in her head over and over.

Nothing to say to her. Nothing to say to her.

It’s never productive. Don’t bother.

Nothing to say to her. Nothing to say to her.

She’ll talk you in circles. She’ll leave you exasperated. She’ll make excuses. She’ll project it all onto you. She’ll undo a year’s worth of excruciatingly difficult work.

Leah had learned the lesson years earlier. With her mother. And her father.

It’s not worth it. To try to process or make it all better. To get an apology. To get an admission. To get understanding. Because an admission from them is not really an admission of guilt and understanding means nothing from irrational people.

Nothing to say to her. Nothing to say to her.

She practiced it. Rehearsed it. For when it did happen.

Because a year earlier all of the best intentions meant nothing. Planning to ignore her. Planning to be cool and detached. Because she would see her. And rehearsals had never existed. She would need to say something. Do something. Fill the void. Soothe the withdrawal. Make sense of it all.

And after she would only want more. Even though it never went well, or sometimes because it never went well, she would want more. More apologies. More answers. More confessions. More attacks. More lies. More manipulations. More fantasies.

Lost in a fantasy world. One week could erase months of hurt and abuse. One hour undo a horrific incident.

Nothing to say to her.

That had been the plan the night of dancing and threats and police and handcuffs. Leah had said nothing and Indigo had never been angrier. More enraged. One week later there was plenty to say. And Leah planned to be assertive. To really get answers. To make herself heard. To make herself believed.

And instead she bought her presents and apologized and kissed her good-bye. Because the arguments weren’t worth it. And the smiles and hugs felt so good. In comparison.

Nothing to say to her.

One year later her mind was back. Having been picked apart and cut up and rearranged. Lead had found the pieces of the puzzle and got it as close to the original as she could figure.

Her body was back. She was eating again. Most of the time. Her cheeks had filled out and regained their color. Cigarettes and Pepsis no longer counted as a meal.

Her spirit was almost back. But at times it was paralyzed by fear or hysteria and, in an attempt to gain some control, it would take over the mind and the body. Use them for refuge. Seek amnesty.

Nothing to say to her.

Sounded doable. Seemed sensible.

And then she saw her. Three times in one summer. When she hadn’t seen her in a year. And her spirit wanted to run. To run and hide. And it did. And Leah felt as if her entire body had imploded and lay in ruins in the pit of her stomach. And when it no longer felt safe in the swirling acid of her stomach, her spirit sought solace in her mind. And her mind swirled with the acid from her stomach. And a year’s worth of rehearsals swam in her brain, past the abuse and pain of the year before, past the traumas from many years before, until Leah was blinded and did not know where to look or how to stand or what to do.

Nothing to say to her. Nothing to say to her.

Minds sheltering spirits in pools of acid. Flashes of broken memories. Visceral reactions. Flight or fight.

So she kept walking. Out the door.

They had nothing to say to each other.

If you have enjoyed Lani Radack's "They Had Nothing To Say To Each Other", then please be certain to e-mail her at  radacklani[at]hotmail.com  and thank her for posting this Story.

Click here for a list of all of Lani Radack's  Stories and Poetry at  Sapphic Voices Authoresses.