Unlike Oblomov, those fish never had names. We referred to them as the male and the female. Despite their strong resemblance it was possible to distinguish them by the robust build of the former and because his scales shined brighter than his companion’s. Vincent watched them much less, but they inspired a curiosity in him as well. I’d tell him of the things I thought I’d discovered about them and he enjoyed hearing about the happenings in the lives of the extended family staying with us. I remember one morning, while I was at the kitchen counter making coffee, he pointed out to me that one of them—possibly the male—had opened its fins and they now looked bigger, as if doubled, and full of colors.

“And the female?” I asked, coffeepot in hand. “Is she prettier too?”

“No. She’s still the same, but she’s barely moving,” Vincent said, his face pressed to the glass of the fishbowl. “Maybe he’s courting her.”

That day we went to the outdoor market on Boulevard Richard-Lenoir. A favorite weekend activity of ours. The snow had disappeared and instead of the eternal rain we could feel the sun’s presence in the sky. We enjoyed ourselves shopping, but the morning didn’t end on the same note. We were ready to head home, loaded down with bags of food, when I got the urge to ask if we could buy oranges and Vincent refused so sharply it felt like an insult.

“They’re so expensive this time of year,” he argued untruthfully. “We can’t afford it. It’s like you have no sense of the expenses we’ll have once the baby is born. You can’t go on squandering money like always.”

Maybe it was the hormones. Pregnant woman often get upset over nothing. But what’s certain is that in less than five minutes it felt like dark and menacing clouds had engulfed my life. All men cater to their pregnant wives’ wishes, I thought. Some people believe these inexplicable cravings in fact reflect the baby’s nutritional needs. What was wrong with Vincent? How could he just refuse like that to buy a few simple oranges? I tried to make it home without getting caught up in an argument. But after a few steps I had to sit down on a bench to rest. My coat didn’t close around me anymore and a sweater that to me seemed old and hideous was poking out from its black edge. I felt my eyes fill with tears. Vincent noticed as well but he wasn’t about to let it go.

“You’re impossible to please,” he said. “We came to the market so that you’d be happy and you get like this over something stupid. Unbelievable.”