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I’m painting the ocean, using a photograph from a trip my family made to the coast when I was fourteen. I wanted the horizon to show a storm approaching, so I’ve stuck with darker color combinations.
“I love it,” she says. “It’s dark and mysterious.” Suki takes her bag and starts backing out of the room. “I’m going to take a bath.”
“Sounds nice. This is where you’ll find me until Eliott gets here.”
“You going to dinner?” she asks.
“Yep. It’s about all he has time for these days.”
Eliott and I started dating our sophomore year when I asked him out in class that day, and we haven’t stopped since. He’s a good guy. He treats me well. He got accepted into a medical school at Northwestern. He’s in his second year, and all he does is study. I guess it isn’t much different from the way he was in college. Only now, he’s even more invested in learning. But I don’t mind. It gives me more time to paint.
“Will you be home later tonight?” Suki moves farther out of my bedroom.
“Of course.”
I rarely spend the night at his place. He typically rises early and leaves for the library or study groups to work all day. And he snores. Plus, I like sleeping in my own bed. You can’t really say our relationship is filled with passion and fire. But it’s steady, and he’s reliable. Comfortable. I like being with him, so I stay.
“Well, have fun.” Suki disappears into the other room.
For the next thirty minutes, I get lost in my painting. When I notice the late time, I run into my closet and change clothes. I throw my hair up into a messy bun and touch up my makeup. I’m grabbing my clutch when the doorbell rings.
I walk down the stairs and into the living room to open the front door. Eliott is standing on the threshold, wearing a button-down shirt and jeans. He keeps his hair cut shorter than he did in college, and he switched to glasses, saying contacts irritate his eyes now.
“Hi,” I greet, lifting to kiss him. He kisses me back.
I lock the door behind me, and we walk to his Subaru. He opens the passenger door, and I slide into the seat.
“Good day?” I ask when he’s settled behind the wheel.
“Busy day,” he says, and then he launches into a description of what they’re studying right now.
The only thing I understand is that he’s talking about genetics. After that, he loses me. But he’s passionate about it, so I let him talk and watch the buildings pass by outside of the window.
We make the short drive to our favorite restaurant. The staff greets us by name. I order the same thing I always do, and he chooses between a few of his favorites. When the waiter leaves, Eliott studies me over his water glass.
“What?” I ask.
“I was thinking …” he starts. “Let’s get married.”
“What?” I choke out, taken completely off guard.
He said it so casually and nonchalantly, like he was mentioning the weather forecast for tomorrow.
He continues, oblivious to my reaction, “I’m in my second year of med school. After this, I have two years of clinical rotations. Then, residency. I want you with me.”
“I am with you. We don’t have to get married for me to be with you.” I take a sip of my water when my mouth goes dry.
“We’ve been dating for over three years now, and we graduated college,” he continues, making his case for the reasons we should get hitched. It feels like he’s reviewing a business contract. There’s no romance. No I love you or I can’t live without you. Just a bullet list of practicality. “And I’m not sure where I’ll end up for residency. I want to know you’re coming with me.”
Residency is a matching process, which means that Eliott can pick his preferences, but he isn’t guaranteed to get them. It’s like playing Russian roulette with your future.
“Eliott,” I sigh, pausing when a server drops off a basket of warm bread. “I’m not ready to be married. To you or to anybody else.”
“Anybody else?” The furrow between his brows deepens.
“You know what I mean.”
“Do I?” he asks.
