Color Of Water

Checking my watch for the third time in ten minutes, I waited for my husband Tim. “Where the hell is he? Why am I still waiting for this man?” I could hear myself mumble as I turned to see my six-year-old twin boys eyes widen as they looked through the glass enclosure where giant sea turtles roamed.

“How they’d get so big?” Mason yelled as I put my arms around him and his brother Noah.

“These are sea turtles’ honey. They swim in the ocean, so they need to be larger.” I tried my best with my limited knowledge of mammals and reptiles.

“Then why aren’t they in the ocean?” Noah chimed in while he was clearly lost in thought

“Because they are here, so we can have a nice day at the aquarium.” I put on a fake smile as I knew Noah, the more skeptical, and inquisitive child would ask again later and probably again after that.

I checked my watch again and texted Tim, “We are at Sea Turtle Exhibit, where are you?” I refused to swear, not today.

My phone beeped a second later, “Just parking, be there in 10.”

The boys were still enthralled with turtles as they watched each one swim back and forth.

I kept my eyes on them but looked around at the other glass homes to many different types of fish. My eyes followed the blue green colors change and move around me in each of the tanks as multiple creatures moved in and out. Peaceful waves blended behind as they swam and then connected with another. So free yet here they were “not in the sea, not so free.”

I glanced again at my boys who were naming each of the turtles and pointing out each in the windowpanes. I then remembered how we decided that this day would be the day.

That morning I slept in and was in such a deep sleep I could not wake myself up. I rolled over and felt the sun shining over my face. It was like my body was exhausted from the grief of making this decision. I could hear the boys getting cereal in the kitchen, and I pulled myself off the bed. They were so excited to see “fish and penguins”. They chattered among themselves while I poured coffee.

Tim and I had decided to tell them at lunch that Tim would be staying at his apartment permanently where he had moved to be closer to work. He worked as a research scientist and often I would be on the receiving end of odd looks from people when I told them he studied water.

When I met Tim, I was fascinated by his brain. He had such a way of simplifying the most complex ideas and explaining them with ease. When he told me he studied water, I was intrigued but dumbfounded, because what was there to know about water other than you need it to live. He told me that water can tell us so much of what is going on in different parts of the world and even has an array of colors depending on how the molecules have connected and how much light has shone on it. The midnight blues, aqua green and even red glow in some seas all mean something. Combinations have connected to cause their hue. Then there are times that there is no connection at all, and the water is clear without color. I was so struck by his love of knowledge; it made me want to learn more things that I never knew to be interesting.

Our wedding was of course at the beach. We had our honeymoon on a sailboat. We lived the constant life connected to water and knowing that his research may someday change the world so that people would learn to respect water. Understand more about it and not to waste it. Knowledge would be power. Our marriage became about his cause and then we had the boys.

At first, I was okay with his constant travel even when they were babies, I could sometimes travel with him to foreign countries, testing droplets while nursing my two-month-old twins. Once they started kindergarten and now with grade school, we needed to stay at home and Tim would travel alone. Each time that he left it felt as though we moved further apart. He travelled for work two weeks a month and the days he was home; he was never really home. Never really present. Always engaged in some new project that required attention, making a call that needed to take place during dinner. Not really there. I felt as though I was just someone to make sure he didn’t starve and kept his clothes clean. Even though he loved the boys, he was missing their moments. I videotaped their first day of the first-grade last month. He hadn’t even watched it when I asked him earlier in the week, before he moved out.

We had tried counseling, but we got nowhere. His constant work had greater importance to world. His statements also always came back to “This is how I provide for you and the boys, Gabby.” The therapist told me I had to draw the boundaries for my own happiness. So last week I asked him not to come back, to stay in his apartment near his lab. He nodded in agreement that we would tell the boys today.

“Daddy, you made it!” I turned to see Tim bending down and pulling the twins in close as they screamed in excitement.

“Yes of course, and Oh my God look at the size of that turtle! Have you ever seen one so big?” Tim shouted in mock excitement as the boys moved their heads side to side.

“Will the one we have in our homeroom at school grow that big?” Mason asked.

“Ah, probably not, but maybe?” Tim’s eyebrows raised as he smiled at me.

Just then I felt something, that flutter, that connection that made me grin myself as my face flushed.

“Hey sorry I’m late, I watched the video of their first day.” He stood and almost moved in to kiss me but held back as reality came back. My eyes started to well with tears, as something was returning. He was here, present, with us.

“I just want to say, you are a wonderful mother, Gabby.” He looked back at the blue green water with giant sea turtles looking like a kid himself in awe.

I knew that there may still be a day when we explain to the boys that mommy and daddy still love them and that nothing will change even though everything would really change. A day when we need to work out custody arrangements and finances and plans about who gets them each holiday. I looked at Tim again chatting about the life of sea turtles with the boys and decided that day is not today. It may not be tomorrow or the next day either.