Christine was the problem and now that he was certain of this, Greg had the power to change his life. A woman had given him this power trapped in a bottle. She was unexpectedly young, with only a few fine lines gathered around her eyes and across her neck.
They had met on the bus; in the evening when work had chipped away at his soul and he was left trying to glue the pieces together without knowing where they fit. The lady sat beside him. Asked a question and listened. Christine didn’t listen.
They should leave their tiny, suffocating apartment. Christine wanted to stay because it was smarter, cheaper. They should use their savings for necessities. A car. A proper home. Nicer clothes.
Greg wanted to live instead of exist.
Their arguments had become stochastic, happening at odd, inconvenient times but over the same things. Two years into the marriage and already it felt like ten.
The woman handed him a bottle, full with clear liquid. It clung to the glass like tar. Not for drinking, she made this clear. Throw it down. Wait for it to disappear. He would know what to do.
Greg assumed it was simple syrup. In case it wasn’t, he tucked the bottle away and thanked her.
At home, he hid the bottle at the bottom of his hamper. Christine had said, “Welcome home,” but nothing more. No joy, no bitterness. Just existence.
His mind snapped a photo, calling it Exhibit A. Presented to a jury of his mind and heart.
A week later, Christine had taken overtime. Never considering he might want a cheap date night with his wife. Ends were met but she wanted more. Was it greed? It felt like it. Why were all her dreams so big?
Greg ate dinner alone, standing on the cramped balcony of their third-floor prison cell. Staring at the apartments just three streets over. Two hundred dollars more expensive, but they could afford it. He would be happier.
Greg looked at the vial, sitting in a lawn chair as if a guest. It could be simple syrup. Could be something more. He grabbed the bottle, let it roll in his hand. Wondering what the more could be.
It would stain the wood and make it sticky. A mess he would have to clean.
The thought humored him and Greg chuckled as he threw it down. The glass broke but didn’t shatter. Liquid oozed out, dripping between the slats. When the last drop misted away, a whisper manifested in his ear, asking what in his life would he like to change.
Greg had been prepared for almost everything. The evidence had been reviewed and considered, a judgment had been made. He thought of Christine for just a moment. Her brown hair, green eyes, long nose, and thin waist. Beautiful and intelligent.
“The day I met my wife. I meant to date her sister, but Christine caught my eye instead.”
The whisper didn’t reply. Didn’t acknowledge his request.
Greg looked around, peering over the balcony to see if the bottle of nonsense had ruined the neighbor’s property.
Small and feeble cries broke his thoughts. The memories deluged, living alongside a detached past drifting into the distance. In its place, a life with Kimberly emerged.
And Ruby. His little Ruby. In the alternative, Christine took birth control; hadn’t thought they could sustain another life.
Greg set the plate where the bottle had been and took a deep breath, gripping the rail of the balcony. With the memories came so much worry. Ruby was running out of diapers and he would have to ask his parents for help. Again. Like he had last month because they were just short on rent.
The cries grew louder, sharp in frustration. They were new parents so Ruby was never left waiting. He turned, facing the balcony door. He gasped, froze. Allowing the memories to catch up. The enormous TV sat too close to the leather sectional hogging space. The latest PlayStation, bought on a whim, held nothing but happy memories.
A splurge. Everything had been a splurge and they had to pick up extra shifts to cover it.
Ruby was getting fussy. He ran inside, squeezing past the luxuries. The dining room had become a nursery, the only space big enough to hold a crib. They were trying to save for a bigger apartment.
Ruby stopped crying once in his arms. Maybe she had only been lonely. She smiled at him around a fist in her mouth and he smiled back, hoping she couldn’t see that Daddy was scared.
“Let’s get some fresh air.” He said, walking back onto the balcony.
He stood where the mysterious liquid had lain, looking ahead at an apartment building three streets over. With sleek metal balconies and new, unclouded windows. He could see into the mirroring third-floor apartment.
Someone had soft beige furniture with blue paintings that tied everything together. Just two hundred dollars more and they could have afforded it. A faraway dream now that they had Ruby.
His daughter snatched at his collar as a woman walked out, leaning on the rail. She held a glass of wine. Soft brown waves danced in a breeze under the moonlight.
Her face was blurred with the distance but he remembered. Christine had met a friend of Greg’s, one he had never been close with. He was the kind of guy who spoke about investments during their college parties.
When Christine got promoted and her husband landed his dream job, Greg helped them move in. Certain they would be neighbors one day.
Christine had been happy, he remembered that. He had a hidden timeline to compare her laughter to. He kissed Ruby’s cheek, smiling at her carefree giggles before walking back inside. Glad for his daughter even if he didn’t have a damn thing to give.