Green at the Edges

Elena smoothed her black dress, already feeling the fabric cling too tightly to her midsection. This was why she'd stopped coming to these things—the monthly pool parties at Richard's boss's house, where everyone pretended their mortgages weren't underwater and their marriages weren't hollow.

"You have something..." Richard reached toward her teeth with his napkin.

She slapped his hand away. "It's spinach from the fucking appetizer, Richard. Let it be."

He didn't meet her eyes. Just drained his glass and reached for the bottle on the table. Around them, the pool glittered with blue lights and fake laughter. Someone's teenage daughter was doing laps alone, cutting through the water with fierce, rhythmic strokes. Swimming like she was training for an Olympic escape.

"Your boss asked when we're going to have kids," Elena said, watching the girl surface, gasping.

"What did you say?"

"I said we're still enjoying our freedom. That we want to travel. That I need to focus on my career first."

"Good." Richard poured himself another glass. "That's good."

The girl had stopped swimming now, treading water in the deep end, staring up at the stars. Elena remembered being that age—how everything had felt possible, how she'd thought she'd never end up standing beside a pool at thirty-seven, picking spinach from her teeth while her husband drank through another evening.

"Richard."

"Hmm?"

"Do you ever think about how we ended up here? Like, really think about it?"

He set the glass down harder than necessary. "Not tonight, Elena. Please."

"When, then? You're always working or drinking or sleeping. When do we get to actually be married?"

The girl in the pool had moved to the edge now, pulling herself up with strong, smooth arms. Water dripped from her hair like she'd been baptized in something real.

Richard's phone buzzed. He checked it immediately. "Work emergency. I have to—"

"Go. Just go."

He did. He always did.

Elena walked to the pool's edge. The water looked colder than the summer air, darker than it should. She thought about that word: swimming. How people talked about learning to swim in life, keeping your head above water. But nobody mentioned how sometimes you just wanted to sink. How sometimes drowning felt like a choice.

The spinach still sat between her front teeth. She left it there. Let them stare. Let them see what happens when something real finally shows up at the party.