Fish Talk

The tiredness enveloped her as she closed the call room door. She hoped for just an hour of sleep before the nurse called saying that her patient was ready to push. As she closed her eyes, she imagined a different life. Enrique's proposal was not what she was expecting.

She’d been caught off guard, her mind so full of the words she’d rehearsed these last few days that it had taken her a moment to process what he’d actually said. And then she’d gotten the call and had to rush in to the birthing center. “Think about it,” he’d said as she left.

She didn’t have to think about it. How dare he presume he could occupy her thought even. How dare he play on repeat in her mind even at her place of work. She certainly knew what he meant, and the answer was, “No! Not in this Labor and Delivery Ward, not in the call room, never.”

Her mind was made up. She was leaving. She had already found a cute apartment right down the street from the hospital where she accepted a new job. She had been in San Antonio for too long. New York City was always her dream and he wasn't going to stand in her way now.

“How are we doing in here?” she asked, coming to stand beside the bed. Reaching behind the bedside table, she clicked a switch and watched in the soft glow of the tank’s light as the fish—an apartment warming gift—darted for flakes of food. Had it really been a year already?

She felt smug as she said it. He smiled and invited her to sit. She took off her shoes and reached down to massage her tired feet. They both stared at the fish mouth words neither of them ever understood. “What do you think they say to each other all day?” She asked mindlessly.

"I can't do this anymore," he said abruptly. "I know you want to leave and you know that I can't." She sighed and visibly rolled her eyes. She stood up and walked toward the kitchen, her back toward him. She walked straight to the knife she had just used to cut an apple.

She finished slicing the apple in silence. “You could if you wanted to,” she finally said. “If you stopped letting them control your life.” He said nothing. “Ok,” she breathed, letting go of the knife. She laid the ring on the table as she left, letting go, at last, of him.

As if peeling away from a force which had kept her in his orbit far too long, She took one step at a time and her lung capacity expanded, the air thinner and lighter. She looked at her hand, and didn’t recognize it. Despite herself, she took one last look over her shoulder.