Drowning in Shallow Water

The dog belonged to her ex-husband, naturally. A golden retriever named Max who looked at Clara with sympathetic eyes, as if he knew she was forty-two, single again, and standing at the edge of a community pool at 9 PM on a Tuesday.

She'd come for swimming lessons — something she'd always meant to do, something that felt like starting over. The water beckoned, dark and promising, like a fresh start or a clean death. She hadn't decided which.

"You're late," her instructor called from the pool deck. Liam was twenty-five, annoyingly fit, and obviously counting down the minutes until he could stop earning extra money teaching adults who should have learned to swim decades ago. "This is the last class before summer session ends."

"I know," Clara said. She'd missed three weeks already — work emergencies at the hospital, the kind that made her wonder why she'd gone into obstetrics. Bringing life into the world while her own marriage had quietly expired.

Max whined at the chain-link fence. Clara had forgotten him in the driveway when she rushed out after another fight with the chief of surgery. He'd followed her car at a trot, somehow keeping up for two miles.

"Is that..." Liam started.

"He's a very emotional support animal," Clara said, stepping toward the pool. "He can watch."

The water shocked her skin. She'd forgotten how much she hated the sensation of not being able to breathe, of surrendering control. Like marriage, she thought, then immediately regretted it. Her therapist would have a field day.

"Relax," Liam said, somehow beside her in the shallow end. "You're tensing up. That's why you sink."

"I'm not sinking," she snapped. "I'm experiencing negative buoyancy."

"Same thing." He grinned. "You're the worst student I've ever had."

"And yet you keep showing up."

"Well." He treaded water, floating effortlessly. "My mom says I have a savior complex."

Clara laughed despite herself. A burst of water went up her nose. She coughed, sputtered, and for a moment, she was genuinely afraid.

Liam's hand was on her arm, steadying her. His grip was firm. "You okay?"

"Fine," she said, embarrassed. She felt fifteen again, awkward in her skin, convinced everyone was watching.

Max barked sharply from the fence.

"Your dog's annoying," Liam said.

"He's not my dog." She wiped water from her eyes. "He's my ex's. Along with the house, most of the furniture, and apparently, this canine witness to my humiliation."

"Ah." Liam nodded slowly. "The post-divorce swimming lessons. Classic."

"Don't." Clara moved away from him. "I don't need the twenty-five-year-old life coach routine."

"I'm twenty-four," he said. "And I dropped out of psychology. Does that help?"

Despite herself, she smiled.

After the lesson, dripping wet and exhausted, Clara sat on the bench and opened her Tupperware. Spinach salad with feta, the kind of healthy bullshit she ate now because she'd promised herself she'd take care of her body. Her ex had always made fun of her health kicks.

Max pressed his nose against the fence, whining.

"You want some spinach?" Clara asked. "It's terrible. You'll hate it."

The dog barked enthusiastically.

She fed him a piece through the chain-link. He ate it anyway.

"You're pathetic," she told him. "We both are."

Clara looked at the pool, now empty and still. She'd only made it halfway across the shallow end tonight. But she'd gone further than yesterday.

"Next Tuesday," she said to the dog. "Same time."

Max thumped his tail against the fence.

"Yeah," Clara said. "That's what I thought too."