The Storm Between Us

Mara stood in the kitchen, watching the lightning split the sky outside her window. Each flash illuminated the wilted spinach in her colander, a reminder of the dinner that would never happen. She'd spent hours on that spinach and ricotta stuffed chicken—Julian's favorite, or at least it used to be, back when he still had favorites.

The papaya sat on the counter, its yellow skin mottled with brown spots. She'd bought it on a whim, thinking maybe she'd try something new, be someone who ate exotic fruits and didn't wait around for married men to leave their wives. But it just sat there, ripening into something soft and unfamiliar, much like she had become in the three months since Julian had said "not yet, not now."

Her phone buzzed. Elena.

Mara considered letting it go to voicemail. Her best friend had been telling her to end it for weeks, pointing out the obvious: that Julian wasn't going to leave Sarah, that Mara deserved better than someone who only called when his wife was out of town. But Elena's pragmatism had started to feel like judgment, and Mara wasn't ready to be judged.

"I'm done," Mara said when she finally answered.

"Really?" Elena's voice rose in that way it did when she was trying not to say "I told you so."

"Really. He canceled again. Work emergency, he said. But I saw his Instagram story. He was at some gallery opening with Sarah."

Outside, another flash of lightning. The power flickered, died. The apartment went dark except for the storm's illumination through the windows.

"Good," Elena said softly. "Come over. I have wine."

Mara looked at the spinach again, at the papaya, at the life she'd been postponing. "Actually," she said, "I think I'll stay in. Make dinner for myself. Eat the spinach while it's still salvageable."

"That's the spirit."

"No, I mean it. I'm tired of waiting. For him, for the right moment, for my life to begin."

She hung up as the first drops of rain hit the glass. In the kitchen, by the light of the storm, Mara reached for her knife. She'd start with the spinach, move on to the papaya tomorrow. Tonight was for beginning, however small.