Two Cents

The first words out of Bryce’s mouth after his year-long self-imposed silence were a shock to Josie, partially because of what he said, but primarily because she had mis-marked her calendar and thought that the momentous day was the following week. She even had a card prepared. They were driving to McDonald’s on a Sunday afternoon in February when he first re-spoke, Josie at the wheel because Bryce had scrawled a note to her early in the relationship that he felt his lack of speech made him a worse driver, you know, because he couldn’t ask for directions, so he had stored his car in the garage behind his battered apartment complex to save on the insurance. Josie thought it was sweet he would be considerate enough to ask for directions, her standards for choosing a partner ranked against her parents’ argumentative relationship as the only example she had; this was high on the list of reasons Josie fell for him.

Josie met Bryce a quarter of the way into his silence, the night of her friend Dee's theater show, Death of a Salesman. She tolerated the first act of the play and when intermission came, she got up to stretch her legs and wander around the lobby that the theatre students shared with the art department. As she examined the towers of carefully-placed sticks created by the Natural Geometry class, she bumped into Bryce. Josie apologized, but he whipped out his phone.

I didn't mean to run into you, the text on his phone said. He retracted it and typed furiously. Are you okay?

Josie nodded. He had warm, brown eyes that lit up when he smiled at her, and Josie liked the way his gaze made her stomach bubble. A work ethic that allowed no time for pleasure, coupled with self-esteem that had seen kinder days, made all the romantic feelings she pretended to scoff at rise to the surface.

The lights flashed their warning that the play would resume.

“I've got to head back into the show,” Josie said. “Do you want to sit with me?”

He typed again on his phone. Yes. I’m Bryce. I wrestle on our college team.

“Josie,” Josie said, and they walked back into the theater and tucked themselves against the far wall.

They texted each other through the second act, and Bryce revealed his silence was a challenge, one inspired by his math professor telling him he needed to listen more and talk less.

“Really?” Josie asked out loud. A few patrons in front of them frowned in their direction.

Really, he typed. She wasn’t the first person to tell me that, but I wanted her to be the last.

Much later, Josie would register the chilly control of this statement, but in the moment, she typed back, I think that’s very brave, and she meant it. Her parents spoke before thinking, with arguments tumbling from their lips. Bryce’s silence would be the perfect change. 

Since their meeting in May, Josie had been waiting the better part of nine months for Bryce’s pregnant pause to end. Though serious dating hadn’t been a priority heading into her final year of college, the tender way he left notes by the coffee maker when she slept over, or the gentleness he used to caress her hands when she talked made her solidify their connection into a relationship. Dee had been put out that Josie had been more interested in some jock than the last half of her show and had carried that against Bryce ever since, but even her stony disapproval hadn’t hindered the relationship.

So it was with great anticipation that Josie had built up the moment for Bryce's first words over the past few weeks. She pictured him smiling at her hand-drawn card of Bowser (his favorite video game character) being defeated by a sonorous noise; and he would reach out to place his hand on her knee with a small squeeze that had become their silent language of “I love you;” and he would look into her eyes and say those words out loud instead of doodling small hearts on her hand as they sat in the back of Psychology 304.

Right before he spoke in the McDonald’s drive thru, Bryce did gently touch her knee as they stalled behind four other cars that burped gasoline into the unnaturally warm final days of February. Josie turned to give him a small smile, and he opened his mouth to say:

“Can you buy me three cheeseburgers; I need two for later,” followed immediately by, “But it’s cool, I’ll pay you back.”

Josie’s mouth fell open and for a moment, she was the one who could not speak.

“Did you think I’d stay silent forever?” Bryce asked with a grin. He leaned over and pecked her on the cheek.

“You’re talking,” she said belatedly. An unpleasant surprise blended with disappointment over her fantasy. Not only was her card pointless but she had assumed, obviously in error, that his voice was deeper, like the noises she had heard coming from him as she sat in the stale bleachers of their college gym, watching his wrestling matches. The high walls made the grunts of exertion echo with a gravitas she found appealing. Sitting in the car at the McDonald’s, there was no doubt that his voice had a distinct whine to it.

“My silence ended today, as of,” he checked his watch dramatically, “23 seconds ago.”

“My calendar says next week.” Josie’s imagined scene of tenderness faded. "You didn't mention your vow was ending.”

They inched forward in line.

“Babe, you must have miscalculated,” Bryce said. “You know I timed it perfectly to be able to speak by Regionals.”

“Well,” Josie said, having never before heard Regionals put into the framework of his silence. She hiked on a smile for his sake. This wasn’t about her, this was about him. “This is a big day for you! Happy regaining your voice day.”

“No. I’ve reclaimed my voice,” Bryce corrected earnestly. “And I need to get all my calories in these next two days before I have to stop eating to make weight for this weekend. Make it four cheeseburgers.”

“That sounds good.” She could hear herself fall into the fake enthusiasm she used when she was at a loss for words.

“And I,” he said, leaning over to push her dark hair from her face and stare into her eyes, “I cannot wait to introduce you to the rest of the team.”

Josie laughed as she pulled forward, but before she could remind him that she knew his friends, a voice crackled through their window.

“Welcome to McDonald’s, can I take your order?” the voice at the drive-thru speaker asked.

“Four cheeseburgers and a Big M—,” Josie started to say.

Bryce leaned over her, his seatbelt catching him as he called across her, “And fries!”

“Sorry, what was that?” the voice at the window asked.

“And two french fries, medium,” Josie repeated at a normal tone.

“Pull ahead, please,” the voice said.

Josie did as instructed, paid for the meal at the window, received a pair of pennies as change, and drove them back to Bryce’s apartment, where she discovered they had forgotten her Big Mac.

“You should complain,” Bryce said as he stuck two cheeseburgers in the fridge.

“It’s fine,” Josie said, rubbing the pennies together as she studied the receipt. Her burger was listed, but must have been overlooked. “I’ll just have fries.”

***

Whereas once, Josie could sit beside Bryce and study in silence, no second that they spent together held stillness. He chatted while cooking, yelled at his video games, and whispered as he read his textbooks. It was hard for Josie to concentrate on her final research project for her marketing degree. Out of all the new changes that Bryce exhibited, perhaps most distracting was the sex. Josie had her own audio playing in her head whenever they made precarious love on his twin bed. Bryce was a shallow, quick breather and at the beginning, Josie found that attractive in an urgent sort of way; now, he whispered in her ear yes, can you feel that, you feel amazing, with the timbre of a mosquito.

Bryce didn't stop talking for three days, and Josie didn’t try to stop him. The guilt of her decreased attraction because of the tone of his voice hovered around her. On Tuesday afternoon, Josie found herself resting her chin in her hands, elbows on her knees, on Bryce’s futon, considering the ethics of breaking up with someone over something so shallow.

“Babe, what’s this?” Bryce asked, closing the fridge with a bang and picking up a folded piece of paper that sat next to the coffee maker. Josie looked up from her books.

“Oh, it’s—”

Bryce's roommate came out of his room, hands shoved deep into hoodie pockets.

“Jake, meet my girlfriend,” Bryce said before Josie could answer his question.

Jake glanced up, registered Josie, and grabbed a bag of chips, uninterested.

“Dude, we’ve met,” he said, and disappeared back into his room.

“It's your card,” Josie said loudly to make sure she was heard as Bryce crunched a celery stick. “For your reclaiming your voice day.”

Bryce flipped it open and read it. He gave a chuckle.

“Regaining my voice," he re-corrected, tossing the card back on the counter where it skittered over the edge and behind the stove. He gave her a brief kiss on the head.

“Gotta get to practice.”

***

There had even been a sort-of fight, if you could call it a fight, that evening after Bryce came back from practice. Josie was cooking spaghetti and meatballs.

“What are you doing?” he asked, slamming the front door, bringing the smell of sweat and gym mats into the apartment.

“Cooking dinner,” she said.

“I can’t eat that,” Bryce snapped, looking at the various pots on the stove. “I can't have pasta when I’m cutting weight.”

“The pasta is for me; I made you meatballs,” Josie said.

Bryce stalked to his bedroom and dropped his backpack down with a thud. “It's like you don't even hear me.”

“I texted you that I was making pasta for dinner, and you said to save you some meatballs.” Josie registered that her voice went higher out of defense; the pitch pleaded with him to see reason. She wondered why, in that moment, she didn’t feel more angry.

“I just want someone to listen to me!” Bryce slammed his bedroom door.

Roommate Jake came out from his bedroom and grabbed a can of Sprite from the fridge, giving her a pitying look.

“You know he gets like this before a meet.” Jake shrugged reassuringly before retreating.

But Josie had not known. Certainly, during pre-meet weeks when he didn’t speak, Bryce was tense and moody, but he had never lashed out. Her anger came on slowly after the shock of the scene; it eked into every movement she made as more time passed and he refused to come out from his bedroom. At last, out of spite, Josie ate all the meatballs and left a small Tupperware filled with nothing but sauce in his fridge before she left.

A text from Bryce later that evening made her soften:

You’re so special to 

me. I get angry sometimes,

but I’m just hungry.

She chose to believe he had intentionally crafted this haiku for her. Still, this new attitude of Bryce’s ate away at her and simultaneously forced her into shamed silence. She had been with someone for almost a year and didn’t know them at all. Out of desperation to not be alone with these gnawing thoughts, she asked Dee to accompany her to that weekend’s wrestling match.

“Only if you come with me to the indie movie festival in April,” Dee countered.

“That sounds good,” Josie said with that same false enthusiasm she had used on Bryce a few days ago. Dee smirked at her lie.

“You’d be doing everyone a favor if you broke up with him before the match,” Dee said. “Me included. Because then I don’t have to go; or I don't have to feel guilty not going.”

“So that’s a no?”

“That’s a definite no.”

***

In the wide basement hallway outside the locker room before the Saturday meet, Josie waited for Bryce so she could kiss him good luck, as always. It was best to keep up the appearance of routines.

“Josie,” Bryce said when he finally emerged from the locker room, elongating the “ie” of her name in a way that made her wince. He was followed by five other guys. “I want you to meet Rod, Vince, Mark, Hal, and Fitbit.”

“I’ve met them alread—”

“Fitbit is just a nickname.”

“I know.”

“Guys, this is my girl,” Bryce said to the crowd, who shifted awkwardly at the unnecessary introduction.

“Mark, how's your marketing proje—” Josie started to ask him, but Bryce interrupted by taking her face in both his hands. Josie remembered when she once found this gesture endearing, and had to stop herself from pulling back. The other boys looked away.

“You,” Bryce said, “are such a wonderful partner.”

“Bryce,” Josie said, touching his chest with the hand that wasn’t shouldering her overstuffed backpack, as if that gesture could give her the space she needed, “Good lu—”

“I think you’re going to be surprised today.”

“Bryce,” she said as he started to walk away. If she broke up with him now—

“Yeah?”  He turned back to her, those soft brown eyes smiling in her direction. She faltered.

“Good luck,” Josie repeated. Bryce gave her a fond smile and followed his teammates back into the locker room. Josie headed to the gym to find a seat, her jaw unusually tight.

The gym was humid and smelled like stale, sweaty rubber, even with the side doors open to let in a fickle breeze. As usual, Josie sat at the top of the bleachers, marketing books spread over her claimed section as she waited hours to watch Bryce wrestle. Her stomach churned. She could feel the back of her neck grow hot as she stewed in the thick air.

Finally, Bryce took the mat. For seven minutes, Josie watched the match, her finger placed at the paragraph in her textbook she needed to continue reading from. As the buzzer sounded, Bryce cradled his opponent’s back to the ground, legs in the air. Perhaps this meant he wouldn’t be in a bad mood tonight. She exhaled and pulled out her phone.

Good job today. I’ve got to  get going. Project.

Stay until the end! It’s tradition!

I have so much work.  I’ll see you tomorrow.

Come on, please? Is something wrong?

Josie gritted her teeth, trapped. And she stayed. The meet stretched on, and darkness wrapped around the gym’s open doors. At some point, her phone buzzed.  She dragged it out from her pocket, the week-old McDonald’s receipt and the pennies coming with to fall through the cracks in the bleachers and land in the sheltered space below. The text was from Dee:

Aren’t you done yet???

Josie left her on read.

Two hours later, the ref whistled for the last time, the teams surged into the locker room, and the remaining audience members, stiff from sitting on lacquered wood all day, stretched. Josie stood quickly, her stomach rumbling. As she trod down the steps of the stands, a crackling on the announcer's mic reverberated throughout the gym.

“Hi all, thank you for coming. Stevens Point was thrilled to host Regionals this year.”

Bryce’s voice sounded even more tinny through the microphone as he stood in the center of the nearest mat.

“As many of you know, I’ve recently ended my vow of silence.”

No one cares, Josie thought as she made her way down the bleachers.

“What you may not know is that I’m dating that beautiful girl over there.”

Josie froze.

“And I couldn’t have gotten my voice back at a better time, because I wanted to ask her a question.”

Josie watched, as if through a filtered movie lens, as Bryce got down on his knee and made a comedic show of pulling a ring box from his jockstrap. He raised the ring box in the air towards her. He asked the question, his voice rising an octave at the end in a sound reminiscent of hard plastic scraping against a chalkboard.

All eyes were on her. Oohs from those remaining spectators created a soundtrack.

“You can’t say no when someone asks you like that,” someone in the crowd said as she passed.

There was a moment when Josie considered continuing towards the double gym doors, but she didn’t think she could make it with everyone’s eyes on her. She made her way to Bryce.

“What do you say?” Bryce asked.

Josie’s lips parted, and—did she say anything? Did he misread her wide eyes of pity for eyes of excitement? She couldn’t remember speaking, but Bryce jumped up and hugged her.

“It’s a yes!” he shouted to the crowd, hugging her to his side, her arm stuck against his sweaty torso.

“That sounds good,” she affirmed in the phrase she had used too often that week. The ring slid onto her hand too easily and felt too heavy.

Josie smiled at the congratulations from the buzzing crowd while her brain worked furiously. This was the smart way to do it. Arguments were best avoided, especially out in the open.

Bryce’s mosquito voice hummed in her ear. “You weren’t my first, but I want you to be my last.”

And there it was. Even as she smiled, she slipped her hand out of his. And even though she kept it on, she twisted the ring with her right hand. She’d start looking for jobs out of state. Or overseas.

And, if worst came to worst, she wouldn’t say anything before she left; he didn’t seem to hear her anyway.

J.D. SISKO is a fiction writer with a love for the fantastical and a deep affection for sonnets. She serves as Managing Editor for Water~Stone Review and volunteers at the literary magazine MAYDAY. She is working towards an MFA in creative writing at Hamline University.