The Calm of Void

I woke up to a loud clap of thunder. It was Monday. I rolled lazily out of bed and scooted to the bathroom. The neighbors were arguing again. Or still.
"You'll never understand how I feel!"... Female voice.
"I don't give a fuck about how you feel!"... Male voice.
That couple was in love, or at the very least, they cared about each other.
I glanced over at my wife lying asleep in our bed. At peace. Innocent. We'd made love the night before. She's precious to me. But am I a fool? The fact that she means anything to me at all will mean that some day, perhaps soon, I will care enough to yell. She will care enough to cry. We will care enough to hurt.
If I decided not to care, then nothing she did or said or felt could ever provoke me to anger with her. I'd remain indifferent. Some may argue that indifference is easier to cope with than pain. It's void. Indifference is the lack of pain. Like darkness, is the lack of light.
I could be indifferent and genuinely not care about how she feels, unlike the man next door who clearly "gives a fuck," despite what falls from his lips. But that indifference would come at a price. It would mean being indifferent to the I love you's, and not caring about the kisses she plants on my neck and cheek after she thinks I'm asleep. What then? I would no longer have a marriage. I have to care. I have to feel it. It needs to be real, even when it gets heated. Even when seething venom flies back and forth over the space between us. And even when lines are crossed. If I bowed my feelings out of those situations and stood indifferent, the fight wouldn't last... but neither would the love. Stoicism has it's place, but there are some places where it shouldn't be welcome.
I started brushing my teeth, when I heard a scream, "No!". The sound of a gunshot sliced through the paper thin walls. I rinsed and spit. It was going to be a good day.