Blue Light, Deep Water

The hotel pool was empty at 2 AM, which was exactly what Marcus needed. His iPhone sat on the patio table, screen lighting up every thirty seconds with messages from Sarah—mostly questions about the divorce papers, scattered with accusations he didn't have the energy to refute. Between her texts were notifications from his boss: the Q3 report was due Monday, and his team's numbers were bleeding out.

Marcus lowered himself into the water. It was shockingly cold, almost painful against his skin. Good. He wanted to feel something that wasn't shame or exhaustion.

He'd come to Seattle for a conference that had ended two days ago, but he hadn't booked his return flight. Instead, he'd been swimming laps at this Marriott at odd hours, ordering room service, and avoiding his phone like it was a radioactive device.

A memory surfaced unbidden: that trip to Yosemite seven years ago, when he and Sarah had hiked out to Mirror Lake. They'd seen a bear—a massive grizzly—fishing in the stream. Sarah had grabbed his hand, terrified. He'd felt invincible, standing there with her, watching the animal's powerful shoulders rise and fall as it scooped salmon from the rushing water. "We're witnessing something ancient," he'd whispered. She'd looked at him like he was magic.

Now she was probably sleeping next to David, the colleague she'd been "just friends" with for months before Marcus found the texts. His phone buzzed again. A photo from Sarah: her and David at some restaurant, laughing, her head tilted against his shoulder. Marcus's stomach twisted. He ducked underwater, holding his breath until his lungs burned.

When he surfaced, gasping, his iPhone was vibrating violently across the table. A call. Not Sarah. His boss.

Marcus pulled himself from the pool, water streaming from his body, and picked up. "You're not answering emails," his boss said without preamble. "People are starting to talk."

"I'm in the pool," Marcus said, surprised by how calm his voice sounded.

"It's 2 AM."

"I know."

"We need to have a conversation about your future here."

Marcus watched the blue light from his phone screen ripple across the water's surface. He thought about the bear in Yosemite, how it had kept fishing despite the tourists watching, despite everything. It hadn't given a damn about anything except survival.

"I understand," Marcus said. "I'll be in Monday."

He ended the call, powered off the phone, and slipped back into the pool. The water was still cold. For the first time in months, he didn't feel like drowning.