Plasma Frequency Magazine: Issue 12 by Arley

Author:Arley [Arley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Plasma Spyglass Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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By Rachel Kolar

They were going to have the fight again.

Brian stood outside the door of the apartment, hand hovering over the knob, trying to ignore the lingering pain at his temples where the student loan officer had removed the neural probes. He didn't want to go inside. As soon as he went inside, he'd have to tell Danielle how much money they still owed, and then they'd have the fight again.

Don't be so sarcastic this time, he reminded himself; then he took a deep breath and opened the door.

His wife was sitting at her easel by the window, stippling something in green. Her head jerked up as he came in, and she wiped her hands on her ratty smock. "How did it go?"

He kissed her forehead, trying to ignore the knots in his stomach. "Good. The memories scanned in fine, and the loan officer said U Maryland would unlock my transcripts and send my journals and stuff from junior year in a week or two."

Danielle nodded, but he could feel her body tensing. She knows. She knows I don't remember meeting her yet. If I did, I would have mentioned it right away. "What about us?"

"I remember seeing you. We both knocked out our science requirement with—"

She pulled back, eyes bright. "Did we talk?"

And here it starts. He might not be able to remember their past, but he knew the next few minutes of their future well enough:

"Eleven thousand dollars? How can we get that with a teacher's aide paycheck? We can barely even pay rent."

"I'd be pulling in more if you knew how to budget. I'm not the one who got our educations foreclosed."

Sometimes she'd blame him for not helping her to budget, but usually she'd start yammering about her art. "At least I'm doing something to get us out of it. My last painting made—"

"—almost as much as you spent on the oils!"

"You asshole. It made a lot more than that. And buyers can tell when my art doesn't involve professional-quality materials."

"Can the toilet tell when your shit doesn't involve Whole Foods?"

"We'd be able to afford to eat right if you went into a career that made any goddamn money!"

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to push the memories aside. "No, we didn't talk. I thought you were gorgeous, but I was too scared to—oh, honey, don't."

"No, no, it's fine, it's just—" She scrubbed furiously at her eyes. "How much more?"

"Dani—"

"How much?"

"Eleven thousand."

Her face fell, and he tried to cut her off before the fight got started. "But I took a lot of my education courses junior year. I can't get my teaching certificate back until they unlock my whole transcript, but I'm so close that somebody might hire me provisionally. And your art's been selling so well this year! Another year of you working like this..."

Danielle's mouth pressed into a thin slash. Without a word, she pushed past him and out the door, slamming it behind her.

Brian stared after her, too stunned to follow. This was new.

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