The U Turn 02:24

Gold realized her sense of guilt was rising. The harbored hate was melting away.

She had been angry about many things. The note from the old man had spoken directly to her lack. Her need to be important, if not first, then significant in an unquestionably unique way. That was critical to her, in her affairs, his, the old lady's, Silver's...

If Silver could have summed it for her, if she could listen and hear it, Goldy would have maybe taken it to heart much sooner and fully know that to the old man (and to Silvie) she was, and would always be, first. He spoke with passion. Not anger, though to the incensed listener the distinction might be negligible— the hurts being too real—the choices having been already made and there being no way of knowing if the alternative would have been in any way better.

Sigh. Silvie had never taken anyone's "place," or places, and he had never wanted to stand in anyone's "way." He saw potential, and potential is always, just that—whatever one makes of it. Matteo wasn't first, his mother hadn't been "replaced," and the old lady's grievances were unrelated, however she might try to retro actively dovetail them.

Gold was familiar with sex as an instrument. But only in the way that she herself used it. As brick and mortar.

The old lady was too proud to tell her how it actually worked on her end. She told Silvie though. Of course, she would, because Silver was an inert receptacle for lurid secrets. Actually, the old lady had blurted in a sex-starved rage, convinced Silvie, age seven was too stupid, and was very startled to hear back: "Can't live? nuns go without, don't they?" for which Silver got an otherwise incomprehensibly vehement whooping with a leather belt that the old lady had briskly brandished from the other room as if by witchcraft— instantaneously— having nothing on but a housecoat loosely knotted.

If power were wielded other way around, Gold would have held it against the old man as a failing. As it is, it was a sign of the woman's weakness, and His strength. What Gold didn't know— that Silver knew—from both ears—was that he had denied Her. Once, and for all.

He said it was something she said, as trigger, but Silver understood that it was the contextual baggage that tipped the coital wagon. A man works for the upkeep of his household—rightly or wrongly— he expects understanding, whatever his order. His order was for peace and quiet. He was exhausted from working three albeit informal (meaning mostly pro bono) demanding shifts as Driver, Builder, and Counsel. All of which were being learned on the job.

Husbandry was taking a bow to Fatherhood. He was providing. Not entertaining.

And the bored little lady at home wanted to go dancing!? having shuffled the children off elsewhere. That was misstep number one. The second was she tried to tease him into intercourse, when he was emotionally spent, and needed her support rather than dissipation of energies in proving his already demonstrated love. The final strike was when she asked, in an exclamation quoted with particular vehemence to Silver:

"O! my charms have ceased to please you?!" Three years into the marriage. Maybe four.

That was when the old man took his shit and moved into the Study. Permanently.

Goldy would never have believed such a powerplay, anyway. Silver kept secrets exceptionally well— with subtle understanding, and attention to nuance. Such as, in the language that the old man quoted, the word for charms being actually "sounds," and by extension as happens in colloquialisms, "the ring of bells," as in windchimes. She would never hear the playing of these as "innocent," or without haunting sadness, and distinctive sexual overtone.

To Gold, the old man had become impotent. But now she saw him more softly.