The Burden We Carry

The days had blurred into a gray haze of doctor's appointments and silent car rides. Mara sat at the kitchen table, staring at her open palm, tracing the life line that seemed so much shorter than the fortune teller had promised on that drunken weekend in New Orleans.

"Another negative test," she said, her voice flat. The pregnancy stick sat on the counter like a small white verdict.

Nate didn't look up from his coffee. He was staring at the coaxial cable dangling from the wall where the cable guy had left it three days ago, half-installed, like everything else in their lives lately.

"We could try the vitamin regimen the doctor suggested," he said finally. "The ones with the, you know, specialized formulations."

Mara's laugh was dry and sharp. "Vitamins. Right. Because that's the problem. We just need more Vitamin D and suddenly my ovaries will remember how to function."

The bear of it had been living in their apartment for six months now—an invisible, heavy thing that took up space in their bed, sat between them on the couch, whispered doubts in their ears when they tried to be intimate. They didn't name it aloud, but they both felt its weight pressing against their chests, making it hard to breathe sometimes.

Nate reached across the table, covering her hand with his. His palm was warm, calloused from the manual labor he'd taken up to help pay for treatments they couldn't really afford.

"I'm tired, Mara," he said softly. "Not just of the appointments. Of pretending this isn't killing us."

She looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the exhaustion etched around his eyes, the way he'd aged in these past months. The bear between them shifted, exhaling.

"What if we stop?" she whispered. "What if we just... live?"

The cable swayed slightly in the draft from the window. Outside, the palm tree their landlord had refused to remove bent in the wind, fronds brushing against their window like lazy fingers.

"We could," Nate said. "We could get a dog. Travel. Just be us again."

Mara closed her hand around his, feeling the solid reality of his palm against hers. The bear was still there, but for the first time in months, it felt like it might eventually hibernate.

"Okay," she said. "Okay."