It’s My Time
A fictional short story by Scott Berchman
Originally published on Medium, July 16, 2016, for The Weekly Knob
“It’s my time,” Liz whispered to herself. She sat on her stool at the counter in her bathroom. Her hair was still dripping post-shower.
She breathed a long moment, deep into her stomach.
Her eyes scanned everything her reflection could see that her towel wasn’t covering. Her wrists, gently resting on the sink’s edge, gave way to her thin forearms and bent elbows. Her eyes traced up her left arm and followed the contours of the delicate curve in her shoulder. Then across her clavicle and down to her chest, her breasts barely peeked out of the top of the tucked end of the towel. Her neck, long and relaxed, gave way to the clear skin of her chin and high cheekbones.
In this moment, Liz had finally accepted the face that stared back at her. She could spend what seemed like hours putting on her makeup, covering the one or two acne scars that she had been given back in her teenage years, but today was the day she didn’t care anymore. She could look at herself and not worry about the things that wouldn’t be there once that powder foundation planted its feet in the spots where it always had. An edge of a smile gave way and added a little depth to the young crows feet on the side of her right eye.
She stood up. She released her towel and it fell to the floor around her ankles. She was vulnerable. She was naked. She was happy.
She reached out to the small metallic silver box that always sat on the sink’s edge. Her fingers grabbed the small knob and she pulled up. It exhaled out the simplest of squeaks as its aged hinges rotated.
Her wedding ring almost glowed as the morning sunlight came through the bathroom window and passed through its crevasses. Hiding in the box for the past two years, seven months and six days, the gold band looked smaller than it had when she took it off and closed it behind the silver door.
She picked it up and held it in the palm of her hand. She took another deep breath into her stomach.
Divorce wasn’t the easiest decision. She questioned it every minute, even after the papers were signed. She didn’t hate him and she didn’t love him, but he had been a part of her life for so many years. Who would she be without him? That question would freeze her in her steps at every turn. Who would ever love her? That question broke her, but she didn’t let it stop her.
Today, her patience and unwillingness to settle for a man less than the best paid off.
Should could finally say “I love you” again. She could finally hear “I love you too” back, this time from someone different who meant it. This time from someone who loved her for everything she was and everything she could be. He was still asleep out in her bedroom. She could see him out in her bed through the crack in bathroom door.
She went over to the toilet, lifted the lid and dropped the ring in the bowl. She smiled as she reached out and pushed the handle. She looked out towards the bed again and saw him turn.
Looking back down to the toilet she could see that the flush cycle was almost done and the ring was now gone with the water.
“Are you ok?” he called from the bedroom.
“Yes,” she said. “I’ve never been better.”
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