The Nightingale

by Amythest Loring Lee (2020)

           She looks at herself in the mirror. A frown spread across Naomi’s face. She hated what she saw: the way her skin started to droop in places, the wrinkles on her face, her green eyes dulled, and filled with hate. The imperfections killed her. Her black hair bounced as she tugged at her dress for the hundredth time that night. No amount of makeup could fix her; moreover, she knew that. Aviv didn’t need makeup. She is so perfect that even Naomi’s husband preferred her. Just the thought made her sick. “Pathetic,” she growled at herself.

Naomi and Cecil were happy when they were first married. They laughed all the time. She still remembers the first time they met. The woman was barely 20 and making money by performing at a bar in the city.  The Singer’s Lounge was packed that night with upper-middle-class people. The lounge was a spectacle for many as it was the only thing semi-reminiscent to the things that used to be. “No technology or androids” signs were posted everywhere outside the building. You were to come in tech-free and feel a connection to other humans for a few hours and get drunk. That night was like any other in the beginning. Naomi sang her first set, getting applause and whistles from sleazy men. She was on her break when she saw him: Cecil. He was so handsome back then, plus he was so unaware of it. His blonde hair stood slicked back, and his brown eyes swallowed the room whole as he looked around. A jolt went through Naomi. She choked on her water, causing a small scene. Embarrassed, she hurried backstage for her next set. Baker, the MC for the night, emerged from the curtain to introduce the entertainment. “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight is a special treat. On stage once again to amaze us is the lovely Nightingale!” he announced before disappearing behind the red curtains. Naomi, in her short black dress, sauntered out with a light blush to her face as she caught herself looking for the man she saw before. 

The band started up, then Naomi began to sing. There was a reason she was called the Nightingale. Her voice was magical. It put her listeners in a trace and brought them all to tears as she sang about their lives in one smooth melody. Though she sang about them, she sang about herself as well. She sang to the heavens hoping for someone to save her from this miserable life she lived. She wanted a warm bed to sleep in and real food in her table. She wanted someone to share those things with once she got them. As she sang the last note, Naomi locked eyes with Cecil, who sat entranced by her song. She blushed and looked away, but turned back to wink. She gave a short bow and blew a kiss to the audience.  

Cecil found her after the set. It was a short and awkward conversation, to say the least. Both parties were blooming roses from their cheeks but nonetheless agreed to meet again soon. The two did meet many times after that as they fell for each other. “I love you,” Cecil whispered to her during one of their rendezvous. Naomi smiled, returning the favor.

“I love you too.”

Naomi shook her head, clearing it of sweet and nostalgic memories. She finished up her makeup quickly then looked herself over one last time. Just before the singer turned to leave, she spotted a rogue tear racing down her cheek. She scowls at herself, wiping it away. “Pathetic,” she whispered again.

Cecil sat at the dining table, eating his dinner. His eyes scanned the news article he was reading on his tablet. Naomi entered, grabbing ner gold purse. She locked eyes with her husband. His once brown and hopeful eyes dimmed at the sight of her. Hers narrowed at him. “Be safe,” Cecil monotoned, looking away from her. 

“Don’t choke,” she bit back.

“You’re crazy, you know that?” he growled, refusing to look at her.

“You’re sick and everyone knows that,” her lips countered.

“I’m sick?!” he raised his voice. His hand slammed down on the table. “You can’t do anything right. Cooking and cleaning have been off the table for years now. Let’s not forget that I haven’t touched you in years as well! You’re pathetic.”

“That’s not fair! I-” Naomi started. The two paused as Aviv marched into the kitchen. She blicked at the two then continued to the sink to do the dishes. 

“Cecil, would you like to take a walk tonight?” Aviv hummed. Naomi’s eyes raked across its body with anger. The urge to rip Aviv’s wires from her body bubbled in her gut.  The android helper was Cecil’s idea when Naomi was sick. She was ill, and now she was being punished for it.

“Not tonight, Aviv. I would like to sit by the fire and read. Will you join me?” Cecil offered. His eyes softened, almost in the way that he used to look at Naomi. The singer’s heart shattered at the look. He didn’t love her anymore. As much as they fought, there was hope that it would work out and be in love as they used to be. She still loved him, but it was clear that her husband was blind to the fact. 

“Have fun,” she spat, leaving the room. Walking past the fireplace, she heard it. A whisper. She turned to the fire and stared. It was enticing her. Her anger pushed and her sorrow dragged her towards it. Her husband in just a bit sit in front of it and enjoy his night with a robot. She stared on.

That night when the Nightingale sang, she sang a song of sorrow and heartbreak. Tears fell in the audience as she sang of a lover lost. Her heart was broken. How could she live on? She sang a song of anger. Her blood boiled because she wasn’t enough for him anymore. How could he be so blind? A pain in her gut notified as she rounded to the last verse. Tears ran down her cheeks. The final verse whispered about a man and his new lover killed in a fire. Aviv wasn’t as perfect in the end. She failed him. The Nightingale sang into the night with freedom until the police arrived. They told her of an accident, but she knew. She felt his life sever from hers. Half of her was dead.