Breath Control

The pool was empty at 5 AM, just as Elena liked it. She'd been coming here for six months, ever since Mark moved out, seeking the particular kind of solitude that only exists underwater. The automatic lights hummed overhead as she adjusted her goggles, her reflection distorted in the lexan — crow's feet around her eyes that hadn't been there at twenty-five, a mouth that had forgotten how to smile without effort.

Sliding into the water, she let it close over her head, the familiar silence enveloping her. Swimming had always been her meditation, even before everything fell apart. Back when she and Mark were still happy, back when Maya still called.

Maya. The word still tasted like betrayal.

They'd been friends since freshman year, through bad haircuts and worse boyfriends, through Elena's mother's death and Maya's divorce. Elena had been the one who held Maya's hair back when she drank too much after leaving Brian. Maya had been the one who convinced Elena to apply for the director position even though she didn't think she was ready.

Then came the night Elena came home early to find them in her bed.

Elena pushed off the wall, breaststroke, counting strokes. One, two, three, breathe. The rhythm grounded her. Six months later, and she still couldn't think about it without her chest tightening. Not just the infidelity — that was terrible enough — but that it was Maya. Her person. The one she'd trusted with everything.

The water rushed past her ears, muffling the world. She remembered the confrontation, Maya's tearful explanation about how it just happened, how they never meant to hurt her. As if intention mattered when the result was this hollowed-out feeling, like something had been scooped out of her chest with a melon baller.

Flipping at the wall, she switched to backstroke, staring up at the ceiling. She hadn't made new friends since. Couldn't imagine going through the vetting process again — the small talk, the gradual revelation of self, the terrifying vulnerability of trusting someone with your soft parts. Better to be alone than to find yourself drowning in shallow water with someone you thought was a lifeguard.

Her phone buzzed on the pool deck. She ignored it. Probably Maya again, leaving another voicemail about how sorry she was, how much she missed their friendship, how she and Mark weren't even together anymore — apparently that had lasted two months after Elena kicked them out.

Elena touched the wall, breathless. Some days she thought about forgiving them. Other days, the rage was so sharp she could taste copper. Today was neither. Today she just felt tired.

Climbing out of the pool, water dripping onto the concrete, she checked her phone. A text from an unknown number: "Hi, this is Sarah from marketing. We met at the holiday party. Wondered if you'd want to grab coffee sometime?"

Elena stood there in her swimsuit, shivering in the air conditioning, and deleted it.

Baby steps.