Terminal Velocity

The hospital room smelled of antiseptic and impending mortality, two scents that shouldn't mix but did. Maya sat beside the bed where her childhood friend lay wasting away, his skin pulled tight over prominent bones like parchment over a wire frame.

'You're too thin,' she said, setting the paper bag on his nightstand. 'I brought those vitamins you always refused to take.'

David's laugh crackled like dry leaves. 'Bit late for that, isn't it?' His eyes wandered to the small fishbowl she'd placed on the windowsill. 'What's with the goldfish?'

'They have short memories,' Maya said, watching the orange fish swim in endless circles. 'Every lap around the bowl is a new adventure. I thought you'd appreciate the optimism.'

David had been the star of their high school baseball team, hitting home runs that sailed into the sunset while Maya kept score from the bleachers. That summer before senior year, they'd lain in the outfield grass and talked about everything and nothing, his jersey smelling of sweat and chewing gum, her heart hammering against her ribs like a runner trying to steal home.

He'd married someone else. She'd moved to the city. They'd sent Christmas cards until they didn't.

Now here they were, thirty years later.

'Do you remember,' he whispered, 'when you caught that foul ball? The one that would have hit me in the face?'

'You would have ducked,'

'I was scared shitless.' His breathing hitched. 'You were never scared. That's why I never told you. I knew you'd say yes.'

The goldfish swam to the surface, mouth opening and closing in silent repetition.

'Did you love her?' The question escaped before she could stop it.

David closed his eyes. 'No. But I loved that she didn't know me like you did. That I could be someone else with her. Someone braver.' He opened them slowly. 'The vitamins. Put them in the bowl.'

'What?'

'The fish needs them more than I do. Always look forward, right?'

Maya dumped the capsules into the water. The fish darted around them, confused and alive.

'That's the spirit,' David said.

Two weeks later, Maya bought her own goldfish. She named it Courage. It swam in circles, forgetting her every three seconds, which she decided was exactly how love should work.