Cable Management for a Dying Marriage

The orange segments sat on the counter like an accusation. Sarah had cut them that morning, arranged them with the precision of someone still trying, still believing that small acts of care could reverse gravity.

I swallowed my vitamin supplements with a gulp of tap water, watching her through the kitchen window. She was at the padel court again, playing with Marcus from accounting. The way she moved — all sudden lunges and breathless laughter — made something tighten in my chest. I wondered if Marcus knew about her father's baseball collection, the cards she still kept in the bottom drawer, or if she'd given him those soft vulnerable parts she used to give me.

The cable guy was coming between three and five. I'd finally called to disconnect the service, another practical step in the dissolution of a life. Thirteen years of bundled packages, on-demand movies, shared passwords — all reduced to a service appointment.

Sarah came back as the technician was drilling into the wall. Her face was flushed from the game, hair damp at the temples. She smelled of expensive lotion and someone else's deodorant.

"You're actually doing it," she said, not a question.

"It's time."

"Everything's time with you lately." She picked up an orange segment, considering it like she might throw it. "You know what's funny? I started playing padel because you said I needed more friends. I started taking vitamins because you said I looked tired. You want to fix things that aren't broken and ignore the ones that are."

The cable guy glanced at us, then focused intensely on his work boots.

"Marcus thinks the cards are worth something," she said. "The baseball cards. He suggested I sell them."

I stared at her. "You told him about the cards?"

"We talk. About things." She popped the orange segment into her mouth, chewed slowly. "He listens. It's novel."

The technician coiled the removed cable on the floor like a dead snake. "All done," he said. "You're disconnected."

"Yes," I said. "I suppose we are."

Sarah swallowed. The juice stained her lips. "I'm staying at Marcus's tonight. We have a match tomorrow morning."

She left without looking back. I stood in the kitchen with my vitamins and my disconnected cable, the orange segments finally turning brown at the edges where no one would eat them now.