What We Swallow

The day Marcus betrayed me, I was swallowing my morning vitamins—those enormous, yellow tablets that promise to preserve what time inevitably steals. The B-complex one caught in my throat, a bitter lump I couldn't dislodge even with three glasses of water, as if my body already knew what my mind refused to accept.

We'd been friends since junior year, when Marcus convinced me to drive to New Orleans for Mardi Gras in his father's Oldsmobile. Twenty years of shared apartments, disastrous breakups, his divorce, my miscarriage. Now he stood in my office explaining why he'd gone to the partners without me, why my 'aggressive management style' made me unsuitable for the promotion we'd discussed over drinks just three weeks prior.

'It's not personal,' he said, his eyes fixed somewhere over my shoulder. 'It's just... you've been different lately. More intense.' The corporate bull he'd become, shitting where he ate and calling it fertilizer.

That evening, I sat on my fire escape with Luna, my elderly pitbull mix who'd belonged to my ex before he left for Chicago and left her behind. Luna pressed her warm weight against my thigh, her graying muzzle resting on my knee. She'd never betrayed anyone for a corner office or a twelve percent raise. Her loyalty was simple, uncomplicated by ambition.

I looked at the vitamin bottle on my kitchen counter. Marcus had recommended them two years ago, said they'd changed his life. I'd bought them on his recommendation, along with that hideous sectional, the same brand of scotch, his preferred toothpaste. How much of me was actually mine?

I poured the vitamins into the toilet. They swirled away—a ridiculous, petty gesture, but mine nonetheless. Luna thumped her tail against the floorboards once, approving.

The next morning, I gave notice. Not dramatic, no speeches or overturned furniture. Just a quiet email to HR and a cardboard box for my framed photos. Marcus didn't come out of his office to say goodbye. I left the pitiful plant he'd given me as a housewarming gift six years ago, sitting on my desk like a hostage.

Some transformations aren't about becoming someone new. They're about finally becoming yourself.