“The clouds are changing shape,” I announced as soon as I heard her at the threshold. She hadn’t even entered the room yet, but I felt the weight of her presence in the air. I studied her face as she stepped inside, pinched and downcast, a storm brewing in her eyes. Twenty years of reading expressions told me she would not answer me. Still, I waited. Once, she would have waited for me too.
I lugged a grapefruit from the shopping bag on the floor as she settled into a chair. Steam from her coffee rose in front of her face, distorting her features like the clouds outside the window. I swallowed hard, unwilling to confront the emotions swirling within.
“The clouds are changing shape, Jane.” My voice wanted to tremble like a leaf in a gale, but I held steady. “That one was an anchor for a ship. But when you came in, the chain evaporated into thin air.”
I chose the long, sharp knife for the grapefruit. The tip pierced the thick rind and once inside, the blade slipped through the flesh as easily as if it were slicing through clouds. “Now the anchor is unmoored, and the ship is drifting through the sky with no captain.”
I set a plate before her, the grapefruit glistening in the morning light like jeweled rubies. Granulated sugar cascaded into melted pools of sweetness, eagerly welcoming the fruit’s tang. But she pushed the plate away.
“I don’t like grapefruit anymore, Harry,” she said, her gaze fixed on anything but me.
“Please, Jane. I don’t understand.” She gripped my hand in hers. It was a forceful squeeze that conveyed both fear and regret. “You’ve always loved grapefruit,” I whispered.
She clung to me like the ship clung to its anchor, but like the cloud, she was impossible to hold. Her grip softened, her thumb tracing my palm. Little circles to bide the time.
“I’m so tired of grapefruit, Harry. I thought I could love it every day for the rest of my life, but I was wrong.”
My heart raced at her confession. I glanced at the flyer she had pinned to the refrigerator—the concert from last summer. That’s where it started to unravel. The woman that came between us wasn’t even the lead singer. She was in the background. How could she have stolen Jane’s heart?
I caught her gazing at the flyer, jealous of the longing in her eyes. The window overlooked the sky, where new clouds had gathered in unfamiliar forms. This is where I turned my attention so she wouldn’t see the tear running down my cheek.
“I can change!” I exclaimed when the sound of her plate scraping against the table confirmed my rejection. I lifted the knife, and Jane gasped, hands flying to her face, covering her eyes.
“I’ll cut away the parts you don’t want anymore!” My tone wavered between pleading and frantic. I slowed my breathing, forcing myself to speak gently. “I’ll carve myself into someone you love.”
She spread her fingers slightly, peering through at the blade. I set down the knife, and she was satisfied. Jane rose from her chair, wrapping me in her arms. I exhaled, my flesh and bones finding home. Jane’s tastes may have changed, but mine never would. I could savor the fruity zest for the rest of my life.
With a trembling hand, Jane lifted the knife and grazed her finger against the blade. I winced as she revealed a drop of red blood, a stark reminder of what was at stake.
“Are you sure, Harry?” she asked, tapping the knife to my chest. “If you carved yourself into someone else for me, your old life would be gone.”
“Then I would be like the clouds,” I argued, scrambling for clarity in the storm of uncertainty. “Always shifting to fit you perfectly, but always myself.”
Jane set down the knife, turning her gaze out the window. I wrapped my arm around her, and together we watched the clouds drift in silence. A treasure box glided across the sky, spilling its riches, reminding us that all things must change, even love.
“Trying to hold onto me is like trying to hold the clouds,” Jane said. Then she left, the fruit abandoned like rubies never to be consumed again.
The End