Cable to Nowhere

The hair had started coming out in clumps during the third month of chemotherapy, but David still pretended not to notice when Maya swept the bathroom floor each morning. Some mornings she cried. Some mornings she just stared at herself in the mirror, touching the sparse patches that had once been thick dark waves.

"It's just hair," she'd say, but they both knew it wasn't.

Now she sat on their bed, watching him fumble with the cable box. They hadn't watched TV together in months. Too much bad news, too many cancer documentaries, too many people dying beautifully on screen while real death was messy and smelled like antiseptic.

"The cable's out again," David said, not turning around. "I think it's the provider. They changed our plan last month without telling us."

"Let it go," Maya said softly. "Just come to bed."

He wouldn't. He never could let anything go—not the cable bill, not the oncologist's dismissive tone, not the way her sister looked at her like she was already gone. He was building something elaborate in his mind, some pyramid of rage and research and alternative treatments, each level more precarious than the last. He'd spent their savings on supplements, on experimental treatments in Mexico, on a healer who promised he could cure anything with crystals and intention.

"David, please."

He finally turned around, his face twisting. "I'm trying to fix it. I'm trying to make something work."

"What are you actually fixing?"

He slumped against the wall. "Everything. Nothing. I don't know."

Their cat, Bast, jumped onto the bed and settled beside Maya. The animal had been David's anniversary gift five years ago, back when they still bought things to mark time instead of watching it slip away. Bast purred loudly, an old sound that felt like the only honest thing in the room.

"She knows," Maya said, scratching behind the cat's ears. "Animals always know."

"Knows what?"

"When it's time to stop fighting."

The room went silent except for the cat's steady rumble. Outside, the city hummed with traffic and distant sirens. The cable remained disconnected. The pyramid in David's mind began to crumble.

"Okay," he said, finally climbing onto the bed beside her. "Okay."

Maya leaned into him, her head on his chest, the cat warm between them. For the first time in three months, she felt something like peace.