The White Elephant

"So how about a cup of tea?" the man says. That was what they had drunk the other times.

"I think I'd prefer a beer," she says. After listening to them go on and on, she thinks she deserves a beer.

The man looks surprised.

--

"Yes. Let's get a beer. It's so hot out today; a beer will taste great," the man says.

"Mm," she says.

He drives to their favorite place, The White Elephant. He parks the car; they go in, and he is careful to open the door for her. They find their usual seats, at the end of the bar.

--

"Two coronas with limes, please," she says to the server.

"Bottle or tap?" the server says.

"Bottle," they both say. It was the sort of moment that would've had the couple laughing easily three months earlier.

"Anything to eat?"

Neither of them says anything, and the server walks away after several seconds of silence.

"I forgot how much you like lime."

"Did you not want it?"

"Hmm... oh, the lime? No, it's fine. The lime is nice in the beer, especially when it's this hot.

--

"Thank you," he says to the server.

"Cheers," she says to him.

"Cheers," he says, offering his bottle to hers. The clink sounds hollow to him.

--

They drink in silence for several minutes, carefully avoiding the other's eyes.

--

"You know we could," he says.

"What? We could what, John?"

"You know, try again."

"You bastard. You said you wouldn't. Why are you doing this? I'm done trying; can't you see that?"

"But...,"

"But nothing. I quit; let it go or move on."

And she means it without resentment. If it's that important, she will let him go.

--

He looks dejected, unsure. He drops his eyes to the table, leaves them there.

--

"Three times, John. Three damn times."

"But we are still young."

"Three times, John. Aren't you the one always talking about signs? It wasn't meant to be."

"We have to keep our faith, it's ..., "

"No, John. You keep your faith; mine is gone! I'm going to call the time of death," she says as she picks up the paper in front of her and reads it. "Time of death 2:37 PM, April 27, 2021. Rest in peace, Faith."

It had been her grandmother's name. They both thought their plan to use it would turn their bad-luck streak around. It had not.

--

"But, we could try again."

"Can we just enjoy our beers? Please?"

--

"Do you still love me?" she says.

"How could you even ask that? Can't you see you are my world? Without you, I am nothing."

"But you always said you always wanted them. Remember?"

He is quiet for a beat.

"Things change. You roll with the punches."

"Platitudes, John? Can't you say it?"

"I love you, Lisa. I always have, I always will."

She suspected this was still the truth. He was the first one to say the three little words. He was very expressive.

--

She knows she should feel bad, and she does. But, if she's honest, she knew even before the doctor had said the awful verdict. A part of her is okay with this fate. God bless him for being so earnest. But as for her, she was done with that enterprise. She envisions him suggesting alternatives. She can see the fight that will cause.

Please give it up already; she longs to say to him but doesn't. None of this is his fault. It's no one's fault.

--

They drink their beers with lime, under the hot Phoenix sun, on the patio of The White Elephant.

--

Originally published at http://storiesbyshawn.com on April 27, 2021.