Calcium & Abandonment

The divorce papers sat on the kitchen counter beside his vitamin regiment—D3 for mood, B12 for energy, magnesium for sleep he never got anymore. Elena had arranged them in neat rows, the pills standing at attention like little soldiers in his absence. She'd been the one who researched which supplements he needed, who ordered them, who reminded him to take them every morning with breakfast.

Now Marcus was gone, and the vitamins remained.

She'd bought the papaya on impulse yesterday at the international market, drawn to its blush-orange skin like a wound healing over. It sat on the windowsill, exotic and alien in their sensible suburban kitchen. Marcus had hated papaya. Called it "wet soap." She'd never tried it until now.

Barnaby—Marcus's cat, really, though they'd shared custody of his affections—jumped onto the counter and sniffed the fruit with disdain. His amber eyes bored into hers with something that looked uncomfortably like judgment. You know this is your fault, those eyes seemed to say. You're the one who asked for space.

Space. What a sterile word for what she'd done. She'd asked for the truth, asked him to choose between her and the woman he'd been seeing for six months, and he'd chosen nothing. Just packed a bag and left, leaving her with their mortgage, their memories, and his goddamn vitamins.

Elena sliced into the papaya. Black seeds spilled out like secrets. The flesh was soft and yielding under her knife, nothing like the crisp apples Marcus preferred. She took a bite, standing at the counter in her pajamas at 2 PM, letting the juice run down her chin.

It tasted nothing like soap. It tasted like something she should have tried years ago.

Barnaby rubbed against her leg, purring, finally forgiving her for whatever transgression she'd committed. He didn't know about the other woman. He just knew his person was gone and the other person was still here, feeding him and opening cans and sitting in his spot on the couch.

She dumped the vitamins into the trash. All that effort, all that care, and he'd left anyway. Sometimes you can love someone with the precision of a supplement regimen and they'll still choose to be sick.

The papaya was sweet, complex, nothing like she expected. She ate the whole thing standing over the sink, seeds and juice and all, while Barnaby wove between her ankles, and for the first time in months, she didn't feel like she was waiting for something to begin.