Departed

Epilogue: Preluding Message

Jordan's POV

     Water dripped into the bucket in a steady rhythm as the smell of fresh tilapia filled the air. When I scooted the cutting board aside to properly move the fish, the bucket slid over, causing the water to drip on the board. I sighed and moved the bucket back into its place. It was almost halfway full, and I had only emptied it out a couple hours ago. The spring brought many rains; our poor house paid for that problem with each passing day. It didn't matter though; I was happy here.

     My cutting knife, despite being dull, didn't have many problems slicing up the fish. I laid the strips in a bowl of prepared spices. This would give it more flavor than what the murky Songdragon Lake wanted its fish to taste like. I hummed as I placed the fish in the oven and finished cleaning dirty dishes from breakfast. As the heavy aroma of tilapia filled the air, I felt something inside of me stir. I placed a hand on my bulging stomach and smiled.

     "You love the smell of dinner."

     It wasn't a question; it was a fact. The baby inside me almost never stirred unless it sensed food was coming. I laughed as an outline of a small hand appeared. The baby was ready to eat.

     "Not yet, dearest." I touched the outline where the baby was pushing with my fingertips. "It's not done cooking."

     This seemed to quiet it down. I know it couldn't hear me, but it felt good to talk to it. There had been many cases of stillborns recently, and all the local physicians weren't very confident my child would make it through birth. I didn't believe them, because my own mother was an herbalist and was often wrong about babies. Carlos said he thought the baby would come out just fine, and I trusted him more than anyone.

     The back door opened, bringing a heavy odor of fish in with the air. I didn't wince at the smell; I was used to it after years of being a fisherman's wife. Carlos smiled at me as he crossed into the bedroom to change. Even though I continuously told him I didn't care about the smell, he always insisted on changing into something nicer for dinner. It didn't matter if he put on a new set of clothes or not, the house still stunk of fish. One might think I'd be tired of fish after being around it and consuming so much, but strangely enough it never grew unlikable. Fish was a staple in our lives; without it we'd surely starve.

     A certain crispness in the air alerted my senses that the fish was nearly done. I quickly finished drying the dishes and chopped up a cucumber to eat alongside the tilapia. I slid the fish out of the oven and onto the plates. Just as I had hoped, the spices had formed a nice crust around the surface area. It smelled delicious.

     From the other room, the sound of a bucket tipping over clanged. Carlos let out a yelp, and I knew he had inevitably gotten water all over something. I hurried into the bedroom to see the water soaking into the wooden floorboards. Carlos grimaced as he struggled to wipe up the remainder of the liquid. I kneeled down, handing him some frayed towels I had grabbed from the kitchen.

     "That's my third time this week." His voice was gruff with frustration.

     "I spilled plenty of buckets throughout the years." I tried to laugh it off. "Let's just say you're hydrating the house."

     His laugh was forced. I knew we were thinking the same thing, whether we liked to admit it or not. We were poor. Our house was on the verge of falling apart. Even though he tried to hide it, Carlos really didn't like the life we could afford. He wanted better for me, and for our baby. He didn't think of himself. Sadly, it was hard to climb the social ladder in this society. This was the only life he had known, and it would be the only life our children would know after us. We couldn't do any better.