The Storm Inside

The cable had been cut three days ago when the backhoe sliced through the neighborhood lines. Three days of silence instead of background news, instead of the numbing comfort of streaming shows we watched side by side but never truly together.

Now we sat on the back porch in the dark, thunder rattling the screen door. Maya stared at her wine glass like it held answers she couldn't drink fast enough. I watched our old retriever, Barnaby, press his gray muzzle against her knee—loyal, steadfast, the only honest thing left between us.

"We're zombies," she said, so quietly I almost missed it. "That's what my sister said. Just walking around dead inside, doing the same shit every day until we die."

Lightning split the sky, illuminating her face—exhausted, beautiful, distant. We'd been married seventeen years and I realized I didn't know if she was still happy. If either of us were.

Barnaby whined as the thunder rolled closer, and she buried her fingers in his fur. I thought about proposing a vacation. About suggesting counseling. About asking if she still loved me. The words crowded my throat like stones.

"The repair truck comes tomorrow," I said instead. "We'll have cable back by dinner."

She laughed, bitter and sharp. "That's what you got from that? That we'll have our distractions back?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"Say something real, David. For once."

Lightning struck closer, the whole yard flashing white. In that frozen second, I saw everything we'd become—two people who'd forgotten how to want each other, who'd filled our silences with television and busywork and lies.

"I think," I whispered, "that I'm scared I've already lost you."

Barnaby lifted his head, his dark eyes watching us in the charged air. Maya set down her glass and turned toward me, really looked at me, for the first time in months.

"You haven't lost me," she said. "But you might have to fight for me."

The storm broke, rain finally coming down in sheets, and somehow, we started talking—really talking—as the dog curled between us and the world washed itself clean.