Chlorine and Citrus at Sunset

The humidity in Florida had a weight to it, pressing against Marie's skin like a forgotten promise. She sat at the edge of the hotel pool, legs submerged in water that felt too warm, watching families she'd never met create memories she'd never have. Her mother's hat sat beside her—a wide-brimmed white thing that smelled of coconut sunscreen and the perfume department at Macy's, where her mother had worked for thirty-two years until the cancer took her last spring.

"Mind if I join you?"

Marie looked up. A man maybe ten years older, silver threading through dark hair that caught the setting sun. He held two drinks, something tropical with umbrellas.

"It's a public pool," she said, then regretted the sharpness.

He smiled, unperturbed. "Fair point." He sat anyway, not too close. Set a drink beside her knee. "Orange juice and champagne. The lady at the bar called it a Mimosa, but I think that's giving it too much credit."

Marie hesitated, then took it. The champagne was flat. "I'm here for my sister's wedding. Third time's the charm, apparently."

"Second marriage for me," he said, swirling his drink. "Though if you ask my ex-wife, she'll tell you I never really showed up for the first one."

The silence stretched, comfortable and companionable. Marie watched the water ripple, gold and blue in the dying light. She opened her palm, studied the lines her mother had always claimed would reveal everything about her character. "She was supposed to be here. My mother. She picked out this dress, this hat, this whole ridiculous weekend."

"My dad missed my graduation," he said quietly. "Open-heart surgery. He survived, but he said later that dying would've been easier than watching me walk across that stage knowing he couldn't afford the student loans."

Marie laughed, surprised and bitter. "God, we're a pair, aren't we?"

"At the pool bar, drinking terrible mimosas, hiding from weddings and graduations." He extended a hand. "David."

"Marie." She shook it. His grip was warm, solid.

"My sister's wedding has an open bar," she found herself saying. "And I bet their champagne is better than this."

David stood, offered her his hand again. "Marie, I would be honored to hide with you somewhere with decent alcohol."

They left the drinks sweating on the concrete. Marie didn't look back at the hat.