December
Noise. I’ve been thinking a lot about it these past ten months.
The noise of a slamming door.
The noise of my neighbor’s dog barking at o’dark thirty.
The noises my wife made as her tennis instructor drilled her like a jackhammer against the north-facing wall of our bedroom.
The noise of the scratch of pen against paper marking the day my marriage legally ended.
The noise ice makes as it clinks against the side of an empty glass.
The noise of the buzz of my cellphone as it alerts me t.o a notification from my assistant.
The noise of other people’s laughter.
The noise of car horns, squealing tires, and the chaos of city traffic in downtown USA—Chicago, Miami, Detroit, Seattle, San Antonio.
The noise of waves as they lap against the side of my boat when I’m out on the water.
They all blend together in a noisy, hazy recollection.
Even now, far away from all that, the noise is relentless.
The noise that Jimmy, my sister’s evil cat, makes as he scratches the shit out of her favorite chair.
The noise of the drone of the broadcasters on ESPN tonight. With an arrogance even I can’t match, they waffle between lambasting the rookie quarterback and praising his every move.
But I can’t mute them.
In fact, I have the volume cranked to a degree somewhere between ear-splitting and not-quite-loud-enough-to-make-the neighbors-call-the-cops.
It’s necessary, this cringeworthy noise.
Without it, I would hear, with painful clarity, the sex sounds emanating from my sister’s bedroom. And bless her sweet, oblivious heart, she thinks she and her boyfriend are being quiet and discreet right now.
They’re not.
I’m here on Maryland’s Eastern Shore to celebrate her birthday and hang out with her and her boyfriend, Simon, until I catch a flight for Tokyo in the morning. We went out to a nice dinner and celebrated Elaine turning the big 3-5. She even let us sing to her in public, which is decent progress, considering she was damn-near poleaxed at the mere mention of her milestone birthday just weeks ago. When we got back to her place, Elaine went upstairs to change, and Simon followed right behind.
That was half an hour ago. At first, I figured they’d be a few minutes changing clothes, so I went into the kitchen to make an espresso. There are distinct advantages to having a sister who’s a coffee addict.
After pouring a cup and swiping some cookies from the pantry, I heard the shower turn on and figured Elaine was freshening up and that Simon would be right down.
When that didn’t happen, I palmed my phone and decided to check in with work. It was a task I’d been dreading, but it would pass the time while I waited for the two lovebirds.
I answered all nine allegedly urgent messages from Nathaniel, my assistant, before wandering into the living room to flip through the channels. I thought about heading out for a drink, but I didn’t want to be rude and just leave.
I have since changed my stance.
It’s quarter after nine. I hate televised sports, and I’ve heard my sister whisper-scream her boyfriend’s name three times in the past five minutes.
Her bedroom is directly above her living room. And I can’t hole up in the guest room, because that’s just across the hall from the love nest.
It’s clear that my situation isn’t going to improve any time soon...
So, like I do in business when a deal is going south, I take my resources elsewhere.
