Cut the Cable

The pool was supposed to save them. That's what the therapist had said—shared activities, mutual investment, something to look forward to together. So they'd spent fifteen thousand dollars on the installation, the landscaping, the subtle lighting that made the water glow at dusk like liquid sapphire.

Now Elena sat on the lanai, watching her husband do laps. His strokes were mechanical, precise, the same rhythm he applied to everything: their mortgage payments, their sex life, their increasingly rare conversations. He moved through the water like a man determined to complete an assignment.

She'd stopped swimming months ago. The first time she'd seen him emerge from the pool, droplets clinging to his graying chest, she'd felt that old familiar hunger—the one that had sustained twelve years of marriage. But then he'd checked his phone before even toweling off, and something in her had simply... switched off.

"You coming in?" Marcus called, flipping at the wall with athletic grace.

Elena swirled her wine. "Maybe later."

They both knew she was lying. She never went in anymore. She just watched from the edge, like a person who's fallen in love with the idea of drowning but can't quite commit to the plunge.

The cat appeared at dusk every evening—a mangy tabby that lived somewhere in the ravine behind their house. Elena had started feeding it on the sly, leaving out saucers of expensive tuna that Marcus would question if he noticed. He didn't notice much these days. He was too busy with his new promotion, his new commute, his new routine of leaving the house before she woke and returning after she'd already had two glasses of something to take the edge off.

The cat wound around her legs now, purring like a small engine. This was the only thing that felt real anymore—the animal warmth, the simple exchange of comfort for sustenance.

"You know that thing's probably diseased," Marcus said, climbing out of the pool. He grabbed his towel, avoiding her eyes. The way he always did now.

"He's company."

"We can get a dog. Like we talked about."

They'd talked about many things. Children (his timeline, her hesitation). Career changes (his upward mobility, her stalled ambitions). Whether to install cable television or stick with streaming services, a debate that had somehow lasted three weekends and ended in silence.

"I don't want a dog, Marcus. I want..." She stopped herself. What did she want? The words dissolved before they could form.

He went inside without drying off properly, leaving wet footprints on the travertine. The cat watched him go, then returned to rubbing its head against Elena's ankle.

Her phone buzzed on the table. A message from her sister: *You still coming to the lake house this weekend? Just you?*

Elena typed back: *Just me.* Then deleted it. Typed: *We'll be there.* Then deleted that too.

The pool lights flickered on automatically, casting rippling reflections across the patio. In the distance, she could hear the cable guy's van making its way down their street—the third appointment in two weeks because apparently, even their entertainment options required crisis management.

She stood up, the cat meowing in protest. She walked to the pool's edge and stared at her distorted reflection in the turquoise water. The woman staring back looked like someone she used to know, or maybe someone she was about to become.

Marcus was inside now, probably checking email, probably not wondering why she was still out here in the cooling dark, probably not remembering that tomorrow was their anniversary, or that he'd forgotten to ask how her doctor's appointment had gone last week, or that she'd stopped sleeping through the night months ago.

The cat jumped onto the lounge chair where she'd been sitting, curled into a perfect circle, and closed its eyes. Trusting. Complete. Something she couldn't remember feeling in so long she wondered if she'd ever actually felt it at all.

"Screw the pool," Elena said aloud, and the cat's ear twitched. "Screw the cable. Screw the goddamn tuna."

She went inside, leaving the sliding door open to let in the night air. Marcus glanced up from his tablet as she entered, something like hope flickering across his face before settling back into neutral.

"Everything okay?"

"No," she said. "But I think it's about to be."

She poured another glass of wine, very carefully, like someone who knew exactly what came next and was surprised to find she didn't mind at all.