Floating

Floating. That’s what death was like, floating to the inevitable. She laid in the bath water that had grown cold hours ago, bubbles dissipated into soap and dirt. Her long hair was swimming around her half submerged head and her face had grown tired with questions. When did life get so complicated.

         She sat up in her bath, and held her left hand near the flamed that glowed on the side of the tub. She thought that candles might help add a certain peaceful ambiance she so desperately needed to her bath, but it did little to bring any sort of clarity to her mind. A small diamond sitting on a platinum band glimmered in the candlelight’s reflection, making the wall sparkle slightly. She smiled as she remembered how she used to dream of the moments when she’d have a diamond on her finger, what it would mean, how it would feel. She never assumed it would carry such heaviness, that an entire future would lay vested in such a small token.

         From the moment she had said yes, a certain ambiguous cloud of doubt had hung over head, following her every move. She loved him, that was certain, but no matter where she ran to she couldn’t escape the fact that something seemed horribly wrong with the engagement. It wasn’t too perfect, or too horrendous, it was perfectly normal, but it was the commonplace of it all that terrified her.

         Everything in life would eventually become commonplace, her house, her car, her family, her marriage. It was the idea of her love becoming commonplace that scared her the most though. That what little looks she had would fade, and that he would grow tired of what they had. She was already seeing signs of it now, which may have attributed to the growing cloud of doubt. Lingering glances of new faces, careless mentions of a certain women’s revealing attire, he was letting down boundaries that she wasn’t comfortable with even after five years. She would tell him her concerns, and he would listen without listening, in the way most men do.

         She sighed, scooping up a handful of water and watching it trickle back into the bath between her fingers. Wouldn’t every  marriage, every love, no matter who it was with become common place eventually? It was times when she was alone that she tried to imagine what her ideal man would be like; a man who listened and responded with the words she needed to hear, a man who swore himself to her and only her, who shared her humor, who ate more than a burger and plain chicken, who had muscles. But this man didn’t exist, and she thought that maybe what she had was the next best. But she couldn’t fight the doubt, the question of why he always found some way to hurt her, even if he had no clue he was doing so.

         Her mothers words were in her ear as well, planting seeds of doubt into her for the past years. Her mother was not in favor of the relationship, let alone the union-he wasn’t strong enough for her daughter. He was clam, when what she wanted for her daughter was a lion, strong and proud and decisive. A real man. She wanted that too, and she knew what she was marrying was only a fraction of what her mother dreamed about, but maybe she could live with that.

         With her foot, she released the stopper and she felt the pull of the water as it exited the tub. In that moment she wished she could shrink and float down the drain with it, just to escape her world for a little while. She stood up and looked at herself in the mirror. Her naked body was pale from the winter months as she turned to her profile to examine herself. She ran her hand over the small round of her stomach, and let it settle on her thigh. Commonplace. Doubt. He would certainly grow tired and old of her, and it was a thought she couldn’t bare.

         Shaking the idea of her head she stepped from the tub towards the counter. Opening the medicine cabinet she pricked her finger on the ragged edge that had existed as long as she could remember. It stung, but the physical pain was a new feeling and it felt good. The warmness of the trickle of blood that ran down her finger caused a shiver in her spine, and she became reluctant to make it stop. She watched as it fell off her finger into the sink basin, staining the acrylic white a dark red. And then it was over.

         The stinging subsided, and the blood ran no more, the sensation of a new emotion was lost. Everything else would eventually end too. The commonplace, the doubt, the marriage, the love, and her life. Nothing lasted forever, time was infinite but life was far from. She realized that people were all floating along in their lives, floating until the end where there was a sudden pull; and then it would be over, it would subside, be no more, it would be lost.