What can you say? You want to say so much. You need to.

But, can you?

The question hangs there until dead, but at some point it will need cutting down.

You draw breath to speak, then catch yourself just before anyone around you notices. You let it go and the silence remains undisturbed, at least until some pivotal idea is shared. Whoever this great mind among us is, the people have to know; they flock around her to hear her keen insight, stirring the thoughts of some other great thinker in the room. They all listen intently until some other marvellous idea is awakened. Then all at once, there is a flurry of excited gasps and interjections,

“That’s so true!”, “Yeah, that reminds me of such and such a time, such and such a place”, “Oh my god, get outta my head!” blah blah blah bzzz bzzz bzzz . . .

The buzz of a hive busy at work.

Of course their ideas are not the only things at work; one person’s fingers find their way into another person’s hair, or delicately around their wrist. Someone else’s palm makes minute gentle circles around the small of someone else’s back. Another person’s arm drapes itself over another person’s shoulders . . .

Meanwhile, here we are, trying to have a good time, or at least keep things civil. It seems to be going well – you smile and make the occasional joke, in spite of yourself; you ask me how things are going at the office, I compliment you on your outfit. It all feels quite normal.

It is only when we are ready to leave that the silence returns. Neither of us make eye contact unless it is absolutely necessary. Neither of us appear to know how to speak to each other, and neither of us really want to. There is that guilt again . . . I can feel it knotted tightly around my stomach. I know you are running through it all again in your mind. I know you well enough that I could cite the list to you now. You honestly believe it is all your fault, so you punish yourself with it, almost like an act of penitence:

It’s my fault . . . I wanted an answer – I got one. I wanted to talk, at length, in detail – he didn’t. I wanted to find common ground – he didn’t. I hadn’t made up my mind . . . I couldn’t – he made up his mind a long time ago. I wanted to try – he was tired from trying. He had tried almost everything and it drove him crazy . . . I drove him crazy. I wanted closure, forgiveness – he just wanted peace. I wanted to stay friends, I thought we were friends . . . I thought we could be friends. He didn’t.

Perhaps he never wanted that. Perhaps he couldn’t tell me so.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps . . .