Cataracts of the Soul

The afternoon sun fractured across the pool's surface, each ripple a stolen moment from the life Mara had abandoned three years ago. She sat on the deck chair, nursing her third gin and tonic, watching the water distort everything below its surface—a fitting metaphor, really.

'You're going to fall in,' Elena said, appearing beside her with two fresh drinks. They'd been friends since college, back when friendship meant shared secrets instead of shared trauma.

'The water would be an improvement,' Mara replied, accepting the glass. 'At least it has clarity.'

Elena sighed, the sound heavy with unspoken things. 'Jonathan called again.'

Mara's hand tightened around the cold glass. 'And?'

'He wants to meet. Says he has something of yours.'

Mara laughed, dark and hollow. 'He took everything worth taking. What's left?'

Silence stretched between them, filled only by the distant splash of a child jumping into the pool. Elena set down her drink and placed a hand on Mara's shoulder. 'There's more. A box. With the cat's ashes.'

The name hung between them like smoke: Barnaby. The cat Jonathan had insisted they get together, the one Mara had insisted on keeping when their marriage dissolved like sugar in warm water. The same cat who'd disappeared two weeks before she walked out.

'He waited three years to tell me he has our cat's remains?' Mara's voice cracked. 'What kind of person does that?'

'The kind who's dying, Mara.'

The words hit her like physical force. She stood, her chair scraping against the concrete, and walked to the pool's edge. Staring down at her distorted reflection, she remembered Jonathan's voice the last time they'd spoken: *Some things sink, some things float. You'll figure out which you are.*

'Pancreatic cancer,' Elena continued softly. 'Three months, maybe four. He doesn't want forgiveness. He just wants you to have the choice.'

Mara watched a leaf drift across the water's surface, turning lazily in the current. Choice. The one thing Jonathan had never allowed her.

'I'll go,' she said finally. 'Not for him. For Barnaby.' She turned back to Elena. 'Some things deserve to be laid to rest properly.'

Elena nodded, understanding. 'I'll drive you.'

As they walked toward the house, Mara glanced back at the pool. The water had stilled, reflecting only sky and possibility. Some things did sink, yes. But others—this time, at least—might finally learn to swim.