WHO'S GONNA DRIVE YOU HOME TONIGHT.

Silence is one of the hardest arguments to refute.
~ Josh Billings (1818 - 1885)

The little voice inside me saying words my tongue doesn't know how to pronunciate - the sensation I could relate to the phrase "boiling blood" - the way my common sense went to sleep and my brains left me alone. All of those, plus my finding it hard to speak: I recognised that it was anger that was inside me.

I found it hard to believe that I had such bitter wrath towards him, and for such a trivial reason at that. Why, that day I spent about 10 hours sitting unmoved in endless final oral comprehension tests. At 7 PM the day was finally over, and I met him at a fast-food joint where he was having dinner while waiting for me. I couldn't think straight. I wanted to be home right away, I wanted a hot shower and I missed my bed so sorely. Yet there were more than 20 kilometres of hellish traffic jam between that place and my bed: and guess who had to drive.

Actually, whenever we went together, I would be driving 90% of the time. I guess the luxury of that sitting in the passenger seat 10% of the time enticed my exhausted brains and body too much, that when he casually went in the car and sat in the passenger seat without asking whether I would like him to drive, I felt very angry. How could he do that? So guiltlessly assumed that I would do the driving?

But, but: why must I be angry? Didn't I always drive anyway? Was he to blame if he just assumed that I wanted to drive? Why didn't I simply ask him to drive, instead of silently getting angry that way?

There could be a thousand answers to that, and there could be none -- all I knew was that I was so angry with him for not offering to drive when he knew I was dead tired, and with myself for being such a spoilt-brat-who-was-too-much-of-a-coward-to-actually-speak-out-her-mind. All I knew was I found it impossible to speak during the 2-hour drive and I even thought to myself genius things like well he never talks much anyway so why don't we just drive in silence and give him a taste of his own medicine!!! I bet he is wondering why I do not care to speak to him at all!!!

It was somewhere in the middle of crowded Senayan when I couldn't feel my tired numbed legs anymore and my heart was so heavy and suddenly he said softly: "Would you like me to drive?"

I couldn't bear to look at him, and I couldn't answer for fear of letting out tears of defeat. I was reminded somehow of a magnifying glass, one through which he could see the weak front I put up to disguise my anger. One through which I could see my stupid, stubborn self so clearly. I couldn't bear to look at him, for fear of looking straight into that glass.

So I shook my head, and looked out of the window, trying to swallow my defeat along with my bitter tears -- humbled and knowing full well now, that while he always let me win our spoken arguments, there was no way I could win our silent ones.

P.S. :

And since you know
you cannot see yourself,
so well as by reflection, I, your glass,
will modestly discover
to yourself,
that of yourself
which
you yet know not of.
~ William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616)