Keeping Robert’s photography business buoyant was Jennifer’s rationalization for putting her own life on hold and wasting her time working as a waitress. It seemed that she had always been on hold, waiting for her life to start. In school they told her if she worked hard and got good grades, she would get into a good college. Hold, please. Then there had been Robert. Work hard, be patient, the photography will take off, and we’ll have a life. She’d hitched herself to that dream and put her life on hold once again. And she had kept pumping energy into the dream long after it had died in Robert.

It happened one morning after Robert had been up drinking all night. She had found him in front of the television with empty wine bottles lined up in front of him like tombstones.

“Don’t you have a wedding to shoot today?”

“I’m not going to do it. I don’t feel up to it.”

She had gone over the edge, screaming at him, kicking wine bottles around the room, and finally, storming out. Right then she resolved to start her life. She was almost thirty and she’d be damned if she’d spend the rest of her life as the grieving widow of someone else’s dream.

She asked him to leave that afternoon, then called a lawyer.

Now that her life had finally started, she had no idea what she was going to do. Slipping into the tub, she realized she was, in fact, nothing more than a waitress and a wife.

Once again she fought the urge to call Robert and ask him to come home. Not because she loved him—the love had worn so thin it was hard to perceive—but because he was her purpose, her direction, and most important, her excuse for being mediocre.

Sitting in the safety of her bathroom, she found she was afraid. This morning, Pine Cove had seemed like a sweatbox, closing in on her and cutting off her breath. Now Pine Cove and the world seemed a very large and hostile place. It would be easy to slip under the warm water and never come up, escape. It wasn’t a serious consideration, just a momentary fantasy. She was stronger than that. Things weren’t hopeless, just difficult. Concentrate on the positive, she told herself.

There was this guy Travis. He seemed nice. He was very good-looking, too. Everything is fine. This is not an end, it’s a beginning.

Her paltry attempt at positive thinking suddenly dissolved into a whole agenda of first-date fears, which somehow seemed more comfortable than the limitless possibilities of positive thinking because she had been through them before.

She took a bar of deodorant soap from the soap dish, lost her grip, and dropped it into the water. The splash covered the faint death gasp the water let out as the soap’s toxic chemicals hit it.