Sarah clutches her mug in their silent apartment, steam brushing her chin as she glanced
over at the table, her notebook stale underneath a pile of Coffee-stained mail.
Lucas enters the kitchen, gazing at his watch intently. He takes a breath with volume louder than the rusty furnace. “Why aren't you dressed yet?” asks Lucas.
“I want to start writing again,” says Sarah.
“What are you talking about? We’re late for my investiture ceremony, I need you to get dressed,” says Lucas.
“Honey, I–I don’t want to go out tonight. I’ve been reminiscing –”
“What do you mean you don’t want to go out? I need you to be there with me, otherwise I will look like a failure of a husband to the other professors.”
Sarah places her mug of green tea on the table, the taste of which still lingers on her tongue, and stares at her notebook. “It’s been a really long time since I was able to have moments for myself, outside of your shadow. I need… no, I crave the ability to be me again, whatever that is now.”
“I—I just—I have to sit down.” Lucas sits himself on the sofa and begins to tap his foot rapidly, “I don’t understand what you’re saying, Sarah, you act like I’m sucking your life away like a fucking vacuum cleaner!”
“You are sucking my life away, I haven’t written a single idea down about what I want to do with my life since I’ve been supporting your career, just to keep a roof over our heads!” Sarah’s hands are damp now, trembling from internal sources fighting their way out.
“My career supports our living expenses; it’s important and you’re not even supporting me. I need you to be here at my ceremony for appearances, otherwise my peers will think differently of me.”
“See! This is what I’m talking about. You can’t even acknowledge my feelings right now; it’s about you. I feel like I’m living in Lucas’s world and there’s no room in there for me. I am only an extension of your success to show off.”
Their cat, Darcy, walks into the room, stares at Sarah and does a long stretch. Darcy walks over to Sarah and rubs against her leg. She bends down and pets his soft fur.
Lucas stands up quickly, lets out a sigh and then walks to the bedroom, in such a speed that a gust of wind can be seen on a nearby plant. A door slams.
“Never mind him, Darcy boy, he’s just offended that I’m trying to get some self-respect around here, I hate when he talks to me this way. At least you love me, my handsome boy,” Sarah says to Darcy.
Sarah moves her legs toward the bedroom, counting the tiles on the floor. She approaches the door to the bedroom and turns the handle to open the door. The door won’t open.
“Babe, let me in so we can talk about this.”
“No, Sarah, I don’t care what you have to say anymore. If you don’t want to support me then you should just leave. Women want a successful husband, and I shouldn’t feel guilty for my success.”
Sarah slides her body down to the floor and leans back against the door. She sees herself in his shadow. “I just wanted someone to love me, I thought I was doing right by supporting your ambitions. I didn’t realize I would create this resentment between us. I think you’re right; maybe I’m not women enough for you anymore.”
“Maybe you’re not.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
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