The Unbecoming Silence

A blustery wind blew through the Gremmington that morning. The crowd gathered in the town square was bundled up and huddled close around a wooden stage, eyes upturned in anticipation. High above them, a blimp swayed in the wind, sending a hollow echo into the streets each time it bumped into the building it was anchored to. A small wooden platform was attached to the blimp by an intricate pulley system that some members of the crowd found almost as interesting as the blimp itself.

Four figures mounted the platform from the blimp, and excited whispers ran through the crowd. One of the men worked the pulley to slowly and steadily lower the platform to the stage below. A soft thumbp announced the platform’s meeting with the podium. Another man in a top hat and suit opened the ailing and stood aside to allow the lady of the group to exit. She smiled gratefully as she passed. While she waited for her other companions, she straightened her dark green dress and pulled her brown cloak closer around her.

A plump man in a large overcoat came to stand next to her, his smile small but pleased. Then came the man in the top hat, which seemed to be worn for the purpose of hiding his unruly hair. His cane made a steady thumping sound as he crossed the stage. The man who had worked the pulley remained on the platform, but even he straightened his worn worker’s coat and stood attentively.

The woman glanced at the man next to her, who nodded discreetly. She approached the stand at the front of the podium, smiling down at the people below her.

“Good morning,” she said; her clear and careful annunciation revealed years of practice. “It is my honor, as representative of the Gremmington Society of Airborne Transportation, to announce that this new model of blimp has been thoroughly inspected and found to be entirely safe for use. The Society would like to extend our gratitude to the designer, Mortimer Beggley.” She paused and gestured to the man with the top hat, who smiled widely and waved at the applauding crowd.

As the crowd quieted down, she continued, “As many of you know, Beggley has been working with the Society for many years now. He has always practiced transparency with his new designs and prioritized safety over convenience. The Society has long held honesty as the most becoming virtue. For honesty builds relationships, and relationships are how we reach for the skies. Thus, the Society would like to recognize Beggley’s commitment to honest work with this medal.”

The crowd cheered as Beggley stepped forward, a pleasant look of surprise on his face. The plump also came forward, presenting a small box to the woman. The woman held up the bronze medal to the crowd before placing it over Beggley’s head. She stepped aside and clapped with the crowd.

Beggley stepped up to the stand and waited for the cheering to die down.

“First, I must thank the wonderful Miss Katherine Wheeler,” Beggley said, nodding toward the lady. “Really, she does not give herself enough credit for seeing me through the construction of my newest model. Truly, she knows much more of honesty and relationships than I.”

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Katherine Wheeler lived with her father high up in one of the most renowned apartment complexes in Gremmington. Perhaps that did not mean much, but Katherine was quite proud that she had gotten a hold of the rooms. Their living area featured a large glass window that she had cleaned once a month, for her father loved to sit in front of it and gaze out onto the city. For this purpose, they had set up a carpet and two chairs for them to share in the middle of the window.

Mr. Wheeler was already sitting in his armchair when Katherine arrived home.

“Good morning, father,” Katherine said as she hung her cloak by the door. Her voice maintained its clarity, mostly out of habit but partially out of fear that one day he would not hear her.

“Yes, good morning,” he replied, half-turning in his chair to smile at her. “Have you got the paper?”

“Of course, how could I ever forget?” Katherine delivered the stack of paper and a kiss on her father’s bald head before crossing back to the small kitchen on the right side of the room.

Katherine set the kettle on the stove and began rummaging through the cupboards for the tea things. She only paused briefly when her father scoffed.

“Have you seen this?” He flicked the paper as though the image would magically transfer to her. “Another blimp model is to go through an examination today.”

Katherine continued to work as she spoke. “Yes, I believe the examination has already been administered.”

“Pah! Ridiculous. How can anything that flies be considered ‘safe’? If God wanted us to fly, he would have given us wings.”

Katherine chuckled. “And still he calls us to the heavens.” The kettle began to whistle, and she paused to pour it. “I suppose some people decided to find their own way up there.”

“Hmph. The audacity. Sooner or later, they’ll get it in their heads that they can build a ladder to the moon!”

Katherine laughed and shook her head at this. “One lump or two?”

“Two, please,” he replied jovially. “Lord knows I’ll need it in this world.”

  After adding the cream and sugar, Katherine brought the tray of tea and cakes to the coffee table that divided their chairs. She sat down in her seat and took her cup.

Her father shook his head as he folded the paper. “I’m proud to have a daughter in a respectable line of work. Accounting is a noble thing, nowhere near as unsensible as air travel.” He smiled proudly at her as he took his teacup.

Katherine could never smile fully when she gazed into her father’s eyes. All she saw was the cloud of forgetfulness that covered them. She tried to pass off her small smile as a humble one. She opened her mouth to reply, then shut it.

Finally, she said, “Thank you, father,” and sipped at her tea. A bitter aftertaste entered her mouth, but not from the tea.

She hated to remind him of her current work, only for him to forget it the next day. Perhaps it was a dishonest way to avoid their daily disagreements.

But was it unbecoming to enjoy the silence?