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Silence, n. /ˈsaɪləns/
i. The fact, state, or habit of abstaining or refraining from speaking (sometimes with reference to a particular matter) or other utterance; the fact of keeping silent; an act or instance of this.
- Oxford English Dictionary
When Linus awoke to a complete and utter lack of sound, his first thought was that the rest of the crew had been abducted.
Not by aliens or anything. That would be awe—ridiculous. No, it was much more likely that humans were behind their sudden disappearance. Because they had to have disappeared, it was the only explanation. In the six days since everyone had arrived at Reuben’s mansion, there had been hardly a moment of quiet to sleep in. Rusty, of course, was up at all hours of the night, and although he was by no stretch of the imagination the loudest member of the company, at three in the morning on his sixth cup of coffee consideration for those trying to catch a few winks wasn’t at the forefront of his mind. Basher was something of a similar case, always tinkering with something or other noisily at odd times, usually enlisting Livingston as support. Turk and Virgil, the actual loudest members of the group, made normal waking hours cacophonic. Added to that, they somehow managed to draw the others into their inane arguments more often than not (despite his disdain for said arguments, Linus always found himself picking a side). Between all of that, there hadn’t been a single day that Linus hadn’t been awoken by shouting, swearing, or the distinctive sound of something breaking (and on auspicious occasions, all three at once).
So, confronted with the deafening silence of that Friday morning, he felt that his initial conclusion of a mass kidnapping was not entirely illogical.
Linus had picked a room in one of the far wings of the building in an (unsuccessful) attempt to spare himself some of the noise. This was what he attributed his exclusion from the abduction to, and he was grateful for it until he cracked open the bedroom door and faced the seemingly interminable hallway. Funny, it had never seemed long enough before then. As he crept forth, pocket knife opened but concealed against his leg in the event that some unperceived danger remained, he couldn’t help the disappointment that welled up alongside his established apprehension and concern. It was really just rotten luck that this had happened the day before the party; what was the point of suffering through the preceding week if they couldn’t even celebrate Saul’s second retirement? Linus certainly hadn’t come just to enjoy the sparkling company of too many people who thought they were the best at what they did crammed together into one house, even if there was a modicum of substance to one or two claims (nobody could work over a room full of people like Rusty). But honestly, the more time he spent with them, the more surprised he was that the Bellagio job hadn’t crashed and burned spectacularly.
Which brought him to the million dollar question: who had done the kidnapping? The obvious choice would be Terry Benedict, but Linus had really been under the impression that all of their conflicts were water under the bridge after the Bank job. Yeah, that Oprah interview hadn’t been pretty, but Benedict was a fool if he didn’t recognize that Danny could have done much worse. Didn’t he remember 2004? They should have been square after that, except Benedict got greedy. The whole charity bit was only retribution, completely fair in Linus’ opinion. But he supposed Benedict never had seen eye to eye with any of the crew, even when they’d been working together.
Linus was so lost in the consideration of this (which would not have boded well for his survival had there been a lingering threat) that he didn’t immediately register the clinking of silverware that became audible as he approached the end of the hallway. When he did process it, however, he straightened and flipped the knife closed. If someone was in the kitchen eating breakfast, he didn’t want to walk out looking like he was expecting a fight. Depending on who was out there, they might give it to him.
Although when he exited the hall, Linus was struck with the realization that a fight may have been preferable to the sight that greeted him.
Seven people were seated at the massive kitchen island. Danny and Rusty (as well as their matching coffee mugs) occupied the far end, leaning slightly towards each other as always. Reuben sat to Rusty’s left, reading the morning paper, with Saul on his other side peeling an orange. Turk and Virgil took up the next two spaces, a plate of rapidly vanishing bacon between them, and Livingston rounded out the set at the end closest to Linus, although there was another plate at the spot next to him. This was presumably for Basher, who stood at the stove flipping the second round of pancakes if the syrup residue visible on the counter was any indication, his back to the hallway that Linus had just emerged from.
In the living room Linus thought he could see the tops of two heads just barely peeking over the back of the couch. That would be Tess and Isabel, then. As *cough* disgusting *cough* morning people, they’d probably already eaten, and it wouldn’t be the first time Linus had found them cuddled up on the couch watching some nature documentary. This one looked to be about coral reefs, which were admittedly pretty cool. Just past them, through the open sliding glass door, Linus spotted Frank dealing cards to himself and Yen at one of the patio tables. That was pretty common too, as Yen was also an early riser and Frank never ate anything before noon. Linus dimly remembered him saying something about breakfast being overrated and Danny interjecting that it just didn’t agree with him.
In fact, all of that would have been normal enough, if even one of them was fucking talking.
But no one was saying a word. In fact, the only voice Linus could hear was the narrator of Tess and Isabel’s show, and while the low, smooth tone was supposed to be relaxing, on its own it was just weird as hell.
Linus watched as Reuben nudged Saul and pointed at something in his newspaper, Saul nodding as he read it. The only sound from the interaction was the rustling of the sheets of paper as Reuben adjusted them. Had Linus gone through the looking glass? Was he in some sort of alternate reality? Was this an episode of Black Mirror?
“Hey, uh,” he started, still standing where he’d been when he first caught sight of all this, “what’s going on?”
Basher turned and flashed a bright smile, Livingston twisted in his seat to give him a brief nod, and Danny gestured to the island as if to say “Breakfast is what’s going on.” He didn’t actually say it, though. None of them said anything to him.
“Right. So no one’s going to talk about it?” Rusty raised an eyebrow at him as he took a sip of his coffee, and Linus rolled his eyes. In a way it made sense that they wouldn’t talk about not talking. “Alright, that’s fine. Thanks for cooking, Bash.”
Basher nodded in acknowledgement before taking another plate out of the cabinet next to the refrigerator and placing a few fresh pancakes on it. He cooked most of the meals they ate at the house, since apparently no one else’s culinary skills were up to snuff, but Linus made sure to express his appreciation every time. Privately he found it a little ironic that the Brit was the best chef in the crew, considering what British cuisine generally consisted of. He didn’t dare voice such thoughts aloud, though. Don’t anger the person making your food, and all that.
Armed with his plate of pancakes, Linus rounded the island to sit on Danny’s right, keeping out of Basher’s way as he began to stack the rest of the pancakes on a large central plate. Immediately Turk and Virgil attacked them, leaving only a few for Danny, Reuben, and Basher himself to finish off. The silence may have been strange, Linus reflected as he chewed slowly, but he understood where the Malloys were coming from. The pancakes were delicious.
Of course, speak (or, think) of the devils and they shall wreak havoc. Linus wasn’t entirely sure what sparked it, possibly they’d reached for the same last piece of bacon, but suddenly the twins were involved in one of their trademark quarrels. Only, without verbal communication it didn’t seem much like a quarrel. It consisted more of an aborted scuffle that was cut short by Saul whacking Virgil softly upside the head and hitting Turk square on the nose with a well-aimed orange slice, after which there was much glaring and opening of mouths as though to speak before quickly shutting them again. It was perhaps the creepiest thing Linus had had the displeasure of witnessing that morning. Was a Malloy fight even a fight without pointless bickering and asinine insults?
“Are you all playing a prank on me? You do realize April Fool’s Day was like, two weeks ago, right?”
At Saul’s extremely unimpressed glance, Linus decided to throw in the towel. Clearly, he was getting nowhere with these assholes, which was fine. It was fine! He would just try Isabel and Tess after he put his plate in the dishwasher. They were always nice to him, although he had a sneaking suspicion that Tess viewed herself as something of a mother figure to him. Although that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, he would never admit that. He already had one mother in the game, did he really need another?
He plopped himself on the couch next to them and watched the documentary without speaking for a few moments. Couldn’t appear too eager, and besides, moray eels were fascinating creatures. After a little while, though, he turned to Tess. Isabel’s arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and for a moment Linus felt bad about disturbing them, but he brushed it off. He’d be out of their hair in a moment anyway.
“Do you know what’s up with them?” he asked, tilting his head toward where the rest of the crew was gradually dispersing from the kitchen. He noticed Livingston practically pushing Basher away when he tried to clean up the dishes left behind, engaging him in some Danny-and-Rusty level wordless communication before Basher acquiesced and left Livingston to take care of it.
For their part, Isabel smiled sympathetically and Tess patted Linus’ hand in what he was sure was supposed to be a comforting gesture, but neither of them answered his question.
“Really, you too?” He wished the sharp sting of betrayal he played up for their amusement was completely affected.
He didn’t even try Frank and Yen; neither of them was particularly chatty on the best of days, so Linus had no doubt that he would be met with silence from both. Instead, he went back to his room, grabbed the book on his bedside table, and installed himself in one of the armchairs in the living room.
As it turned out, when no one was responding, there wasn’t much cause for Linus himself to talk. He passed most of the day as quiet as the others, although it grew exponentially more eerie when Isabel turned the TV off. Fortunately, she monopolized the kitchen shortly after to bake Saul’s retirement cake, and the sound of the electric mixer provided at least some background noise. Jesus, after how much he’d complained about the constant volume with thirteen people there, Linus would have thought he’d appreciate silence a little more. There was just something about it, though, something that made him feel like the whole crew had become ghosts haunting some empty Vegas mansion. The thought of being doomed to spend his afterlife with these guys made him shudder.
Despite his concerns, Linus managed to finish his book before one in the afternoon. This was both good, as he’d been meaning to finish it for a while, and problematic, as he hadn’t brought another. He could probably find something to read in Reuben’s library (because the man had a goddamn library) but he wasn’t actually confident in his ability to find his way to or from it, and he’d be damned before he asked for directions. So when out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed Danny and Rusty chalking up pool cues, Linus barely kept himself from sprinting over to them.
“I’ll play winner,” he volunteered, the words sounding strange even to his own ears after so long without hearing anyone speak. Danny nodded, though, and Linus leaned against the wall to watch their game. They were evenly matched, as in most things, and really the only reason Danny won was because Rusty just barely missed, leaving the 8 ball right next to the corner hole. The glare Rusty fixed on the side of Danny’s head as he knocked it in wasn’t pretty, but the silent conversation that followed was actually par for the course from them. Linus was pretty sure they wouldn’t have spoken even if they could have. Although it was usually unconscious, every once in a while Rusty seemed to like making a point of reminding people that he could read Danny’s mind.
He pressed a quick kiss to Danny’s lips before tossing his pool cue to Linus and wandering off to… not talk to Basher. It was worth mentioning that Danny and Linus were much less evenly matched, although not so much so that Linus didn’t make a respectable showing. Still, it was with little surprise that he watched Danny sink the last solid ball when he still had three striped ones left.
“Seriously, what’s with this?” he asked as Danny lined up his last shot. The other man merely smiled over his shoulder before sinking the 8 ball so beautifully Linus couldn’t even be upset at his loss. They shook hands, Danny squeezing Linus’ a bit in what he took to be affirmation that he’d improved since the first time they’d played (which Linus was doing his best to expunge from his memory). And then he was set adrift.
(To be fair, the twins looked like they were struggling too, but the last thing Linus wanted to do was compare himself to them, so he chose to ignore that.)
Surprisingly, it was Basher who eventually took pity on him. In the late afternoon, as Isabel kissed frosting off of Tess’s nose and Linus wandered aimlessly from the patio to the living room and then back out to the patio, Basher seized Livingston’s laptop and brought it out to the table Frank and Yen had been playing at that morning. Even more surprising than the fact that Basher apparently knew the password was that Livingston didn’t even follow him out of the house. Linus was pretty sure no one else was allowed to touch his tech.
After a few quick keystrokes, Basher turned the laptop to face Linus. There, in bright, bold words on the screen, was “Day of Silence.” He skimmed the webpage under the headline until he figured he got the gist of it, then walked back inside with a little more purpose than the last few times he’d done it.
“So, ‘Day of Silence,’ huh?” he said as he stopped in front of Danny and Rusty, who were standing by the island. They nodded in unison. “Not that I don’t support the idea, but aren’t you a little too old for it? I mean, the website says it’s for students.”
“You’re never too old for something like this,” Rusty said, prompting surprised looks from both Danny and Linus, the former bumping him with his elbow. “It’s okay, it’s past time,” Rusty said in response to Danny’s concern. Linus glanced at the kitchen clock: 4:27.
“Past time for what?”
“For our sharing circle.” Linus honestly couldn’t tell if Danny was being sarcastic or not.
The sound of Danny and Rusty’s voices, the first time any of them had heard them all day, didn’t go unnoticed, and soon all thirteen of the house’s occupants were gathered in or by the kitchen. “We all had a reason to participate, even if it was just as moral support.” Rusty spoke like he was addressing everyone, but Linus felt like it was mostly for his benefit. From the way they all nodded along, the rest of the crew may have suspected as well.
Danny took over, as if sensing Rusty’s invisible mic pass. “Alright, share or don’t share, be as vague or as specific as you want, it’s up to you.” So apparently Danny hadn’t been joking.
There were a few seconds of unsure eye contact (even among adults, nobody wanted to go first) before Reuben cleared his throat. “No one talked about this kind of thing when I was growing up,” he said. “It’s good of the kids who started this to bring attention to that.”
“Yeah, and when you grew up being called a fairy or a homo before you even knew you were gay, events like this feel important.” This was from Livingston, who had taken a seat on one of the stools at the island. Basher moved to stand behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Ah, that would explain some things.
“It’s not easy being queer, even in Britain,” he added.
“And it can be even worse if you’re black,” Frank chimed in from the couch.
“It’s often not as bad for women,” Isabel said. She was standing in front of Tess, who had her arms wrapped around the other woman and her head resting on her shoulder. “The only time misogyny has worked out for us. But that doesn’t mean we don’t lose friends and family too.”
Linus nodded; it was a little strange, hearing these things from his associates, but in a good way. It felt like he was getting closer to them. He didn’t want to disturb the atmosphere that had been created, but that didn’t stop him from turning to the Malloys. “That all makes sense, but what about you two? I didn’t think you had any investment in this.”
“What, because we’re Mormon?” Turk asked defensively. Linus barely had time to open his mouth to deny that he was implying anything before Turk laughed. “Don’t worry man, I’m just messing with you.”
“We don’t have to agree with everything the higher-ups say,” Virgil added, ignoring Turk’s muttered “Well….” He glanced around the room before looking back at Linus. “We’re just being good friends, you know, supporting everyone. Also, Turk, pay up.”
“What, why?”
“You spoke first.”
“Yeah, but Rusty talked before I did! He said it was past time!”
“Doesn’t matter, you still spoke first!”
And there was the sparkling Malloy banter, at home at children’s playgrounds and drunken bar fights.
Saul seemed disinclined to weigh in, so attention unintentionally shifted to Danny and Rusty. The younger man shrugged, the twins’ argument serving as an incongruous backdrop for his words. “When you come home black and blue, leave home black and blue a few too many times, doing things like this… it starts to matter to you a lot more than you’d expect.” A somber silence, much heavier than the one that had been present for most of the day, fell over the group. Even Turk and Virgil quieted down, until Yen of all people piped up.
“Wǒ zhǐ shì bù xiǎng shuō huà.”
The statement elicited a soft laugh from most of the crew. The tension sufficiently broken, Linus scratched the back of his head. “Well, now I feel like a dick. Why didn’t any of you tell me? I would have done it too, you know.”
Danny shrugged, and if Linus didn’t know him better he’d say the gesture was sheepish. “We all just kind of… assumed you’d know.”
“Yeah, that was our first mistake,” Turk interjected. “Assuming you’d know anything.”
“Hey—”
“And it’s not like we could really say anything once you made it clear you had no idea what was going on.” Basher cut Linus off, which he had to admit was probably a good thing, because he could consider his next words at least somewhat more carefully.
“So without speaking, you all collectively decided to pull a fast one on me.” He hoped his voice was as flat as it sounded in his head.
“Well, we are con artists.”
“Thanks for the reminder, Frank, I needed that.”
“But look, it accomplished its purpose!” Well, shit, he couldn’t be mad at Tess. “One more person knows about it now.”
Danny chuckled. “That’s true. All in all, I think it was a pretty successful day.”
“I think we should take our act on the road next year,” Isabel said. “See how many people we can get as confused as Linus. It’ll be fun!”
Linus wasn’t sure he’d call that “fun,” but at least he’d be in the know. And he could say with a significant degree of honesty that that wasn’t the worst idea he’d heard from this group. Besides, looking around at everyone, he could admit that there were no other people in the world…
… that he would rather celebrate Saul’s second retirement with.
Silence, v. /ˈsaɪləns/
i. transitive. To prevent or prohibit (a person or group) from speaking or communicating, esp. in order to prevent the free expression of opinions.
- Oxford English Dictionary