Isaac took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. He stood up and walked into the kitchen where Hillary was preparing dinner. He knew what he was about to tell her would upset her, but he also knew that he couldn’t do what she had asked of him.
“How’s it going, sweetie?” Hillary asked as Isaac entered the kitchen.
“Listen, Hil,” Isaac said. “It’s not gonna happen.”
Hillary stopped what she was doing. “What’s not going to happen? What are you talking about?”
“I know how important your religion is to you, Hil,” Isaac said, “and I’ve spent the last four days locked away carefully reading the Bible.”
Hillary raised one eyebrow and said, “Yes, so?”
“So,” Isaac said, “it’s like reading a mashup of a fairytale and a soap opera.”
Hillary started to cry. “It’s God’s word. How can you say such a cruel thing?”
“I’m so sorry, Hil,” Isaac said. “I know you want me to embrace your religion and to share your beliefs, but I just can’t. It’s mythology and superstition and fantasy and I can’t take any of it seriously.”
“Then I can’t marry you, Isaac,” Hillary said.
“I know, Hil, I know.”
Written for Roger Shipp’s Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner. Photo credit: Morguefile.