Like dolphins can swim

Is it still possible today? To be a hero? she thinks. Is it possible to make a difference? To change the world? To achieve what no one ever thought possible? To be a champion like Marie Curie, Florence Nightingale, Ada Lovelace or Malala Yousafzai?

She takes a sip of her diet coke. Cherry-flavoured. It is a quiet Sunday afternoon. Grey, cold, mindless. Her boyfriend sits opposite her. He scrolls through his newsfeed. He looks as if he was fired the day before yesterday as a moderator at YouTube.

Despite being only eighteen, she already knows what her life will be like in the coming years. It is an existence like she knows from her parents, her older sister, her aunts. After dating for a few years, she and her lover will rent an apartment on the edge of town. Despite the fact that their house has thin walls, mould stains in the bathroom, leaking taps, poorly functioning heaters and a peeling ceiling in the living room, they will say that they are happy.

When she becomes pregnant with their first child, they will move to a terraced house with a garden, utility room. She will work less. He has a little belly by now. And is balding. Every Sunday they go to their parents. To hers in the morning, to his in the afternoon.

“Would you like another beer?” she asks. He keeps staring at his phone. He pushes the empty glass towards her. Angela slides off her stool and walks to the bar. She is glad that she can move for a moment. In the rectangular mirror behind the shiny beer taps she sees a young woman. Her eyes are dull, her cheeks are sunken.

She has barely put the glass of white IPA down on the high table when he picks it up and takes a big sip. In the meantime, he stares blankly at the device in his hand. As if the world around him does not exist. Not his girlfriend, not the guests, not the chitchat, not the pleasant music, not the nostalgic jukebox in the back of the café, not the dog sleeping behind the bar. If there is no tomorrow, no horizon. No other culture than he knows, he recognizes.

Does she love him? Angela has to think deeply. When they met, everything was so natural. The funny stories, the proximity, the trust, the intimacy. As if they had known each other for years. But after a few months she had already figured it out. This was where it would end. The peace, the safety, the overview, the familiarity.

And to be honest, she longs for it too. She dreads the outside world. She shudders at the threat of natural disasters, war, deadly viruses. She shivers at responsibilities, at duties, at commitments. In his presence, she feels as if she is living in a fortress, an island.

Her glass is half full. His is already empty. At first she could laugh about it. That he drank so much. It was cool, manly. Now she understands that it is a pattern. He imitates his father, his uncles. He drinks so as not to have to talk, not to have to think.

It is ten to three. Soon they will go to his father and mother. Then too the glasses will be filled, snacks will be handed out. There will be dirty jokes, laughter. There will be football on TV. No one will ask how she is doing. No one will ask if she has plans, dreams, ambitions. No one wants to know if she finds it entertaining.

Could she step out of this life? She has thought about this several times in the past few weeks. And again she breaks out in a cold sweat. She is not a daredevil, not a hero. She is more of a coward, a wimp, a sissy. Life is always determined for her. By her parents, her teachers, her pastors, her friends and girlfriends. She is a follower, a minion, a sidekick, a servant. She knows that there is a sun. But she prefers to be a shadow, a ghost, a silhouette.

After getting him another beer, she suddenly grabs the mobile phone from his hand. With a smooth gesture she lets the device slide into his full glass. The friend looks at her in shock and surprise. She nods to him, walks to the coat rack, puts on her jacket, pushes open the door and feels the new daylight on her face.

The farewell went much more naturally than she had expected. It went undeniably, indisputable. Like lobsters crawling over soft sea beds. Like dolphins swimming in clear seawater.