****************************************************************************
"Who's this?" Monica asked, picking up a silver picture frame from Rachel's dresser and examining the photograph. It was a black and white print of a man and a woman standing by the ocean. The girl was on the boy's back, dawning a smile so wide that the expanse of teeth caught Monica's eye immediately. The boy, on the other hand, seemed mysterious with intensely dark eyes and a vigilant gaze painted across his face. Rachel glanced quickly at the photo.
"Oh, those are my parents. It was taken right after my dad got back from the war. My mom was just out of high school," Rachel answered, directing her attention back to the toenails that she was painting.
"Wow, your dad looks really serious."
"My dad is really serious," Rachel stated obviously, still not looking up from the meticulous work. "He wasn't always that way, though," she continued, getting up from her place on the carpet and heading for her desk drawer. She reached inside to reveal another photo- this one also in black and white, but of a slightly younger version of the kids from the first one. The boy was adorned in a football uniform and was kissing the hand of the very obviously giddy girl.
"This was my dad's senior year of high school. It was taken 2 weeks before he left for Saigon," Rachel mused, subconsciously running her fingers over the glossy image. She shook her head in nostalgia. "God, look how happy they were." She stared intently at the picture for a few more moments before retuning it to it's rightful place in the drawer.
"They're still happy, Rach. Your dad just got more serious. There's nothing wrong with that. I guess a war and medical school will do that to you." Rachel nodded, having returned to painting her toes in a metallic pink shade.
"I guess," she replied drearily. The girls were quiet for a few more moments. Monica hadn't meant to put such a damper on the moment. Without really thinking, she turned the framed picture upside down on Rachel's dresser. She wasn't sure why.
"Did you know that my mom used to want to be a marine biologist?" Rachel asked seemingly arbitrarily. Monica shook her head.
"Me neither," Rachel replied. "I was in the attic a few weeks ago and I found some of my mom's old notebooks and journals from when she was our age. She wanted to marry my dad, move to California and spend her life on a boat, studying the ocean." She let out an abrupt huff, shaking her head slightly. "I'm glad to see things worked out so well for her."
"Sweety, things did work out well for her. She ended up in a nice house, married to the man she loves, and having 3 beautiful daughters. What else could she ask for?" Monica tried to comfort her friend, but was not really sure what had provoked this onslaught of regretful reminiscence.
"The life she always wanted," Rachel answered, looking up at her friend for the first time since the conversation had begun. "Sure, this is okay, Monica, but it's not what she wanted. This wasn't her dream. She wanted to live by the ocean and study whales and dolphins. Instead, she's 37 years old and pigeonholed into a mediocre retail job, living 10 blocks from where she was born and married to a man who doesn't know she's there on the rare occasion that he is. It sucks, Mon."
"Rachel, if you don't mind me asking, what brought all of this on?" Monica asked in a soothing tone that let Rachel know she was concerned and not annoyed. Rachel shrugged, fixing the nail-polish's cap back onto the bottle and throwing it into the bag of make-up that it had come from.
"I think my parents are getting a divorce," she stated matter-of-factly, in a tone similar to the one she might use when giving a formal oral presentation for her English class. Her voice did not break. She didn't falter in the least. Monica, on the other hand, narrowed her eyes in disbelief.
