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.