Breathing Underwater

The bull—the ceramic statue her mother gave her when she got the senior vice president promotion—sat on the hotel room desk, its painted eyes mocking her. Maria had been running on caffeine and spite for three months, ever since the restructuring announcement. Her iPhone buzzed again. Another Slack notification from David at 11:47 PM. He never slept, or maybe he just enjoyed knowing she didn't either.

She walked to the hotel pool in her robe, the desert air still hot at midnight. The water was still, reflecting nothing. That's when she saw him—Connor from accounting, sitting on the edge, his bare feet in the water. He'd lost weight since his wife left. Thinner. His hair had started thinning too.

"Can't sleep either?" she asked, sitting beside him, not touching the water.

"David's emailing you too?" Connor's laugh was dry. "The whole department's in the betting pool. How many of us get axed before Q3."

Maria stared at the bull through the window of her room three floors up. She thought about the presentation she'd prepped for tomorrow—the PowerPoint deck full of buzzwords and optimistic projections she didn't believe in. The way David called her "a bulldog" when she pushed back, like it was supposed to be a compliment.

"My father called me that," she said quietly. "Bull-headed. When I refused to quit law school."

Connor looked at her. "You were going to be a lawyer?"

"For three days. Then I realized I'd spend my whole life arguing about things I didn't care about." She slipped her robe off—she was wearing her suit underneath, always ready—and stepped into the pool. The water swallowed her, sudden and cold. When she broke the surface, gasping, Connor was laughing. Really laughing.

"What?"

"You're wearing your suit."

"Always be prepared," she said, treading water. "That's what they tell us, right?"

He stood up. "Fuck it." He dove in, clothes and all.

They floated there in their work clothes, watching the desert sky, until her iPhone on the chair lit up with a calendar reminder: 8:00 AM – All Hands Meeting.

Maria grabbed the phone. Declined the invite. Threw it onto the deck.

"Feel like a drink?" Connor asked.

"Feel like living," she said.

The bull could wait until morning. Some things were more important than being someone who never stopped running.