Emotional
Water Shed by Joanne Faries
We
brush by the lush rainforest ferns, trying to reach the waterfall. I ignore the
sweat dripping from my brow, and try to avoid swiping my leg every two seconds
for imagined insects.
Trey
and I are at a crossroads – on this trip, in our relationship, in our work. We
are overheated, seething undertones of rage in our terse answers. His focus on
water conservation and my botany thesis united us for one trip to the
rainforest. Seemed perfect until he yawned at every photo I snapped, every
tweezers of moss I gathered. And seriously how many waterfalls does he need to
time? I’m ready to throw the stopwatch into the briny deep.
Yet
here I am, trudging to another waterfall. I contemplate my biggest dilemma.
Shall I give Trey back his ring? He proposed as we packed, tossing me the box,
casually saying, “I think you’ll need this to wear.” I did not hesitate and
agreed to marry him.
Now.
This trip. Oh so many flaws in our life plan. He’s selfish. Hogs the towels in
the hostels. Obviously we both faked interest in each other’s work.
We
arrive at the waterfall, pay our admission, and ask the girl why she’s crying.
“Princess Diana was killed in a car crash.” This took me aback. Here, in the
rainforest on the other side of the world in 1997, Princess Diana news brings
tears. I gulp and sigh.
“Life’s
too short, Trey,” I said as I hand him the ring.