Juice and Steel

Maria peeled the orange with surgical precision, the citrus scent cutting through the stale air of the kitchen. She'd always done this when she was thinking something through. The rind fell away in long, perfect spirals, like the years she'd given to this marriage, to this life.

Her iPhone buzzed against the granite counter—David again. Probably calling from some airport bar, the way he always did when he traveled. She didn't pick up.

"Bullshit," she whispered to the empty room. That's what her therapist called it—David's emotional unavailability, the way he plowed through conversations like a bull in a china shop, leaving shards behind him while he moved on to the next thing, the next deal, the next flight.

Their golden retriever, Huck, pushed his wet nose against her leg. Sixteen years old, mostly deaf, eyes clouding with age. David had bought him as a puppy during that brief period when he'd wanted children. Then the phase had passed, and Huck had become Maria's dog, her companion through the long silences.

"You're dying too, aren't you, buddy?" She scratched behind his ears, feeling the familiar lump that shouldn't be there. Another veterinary appointment, another conversation she'd have alone.

The orange segments glistened in her palm. She ate them one by one, letting the juice burst against her tongue—sour, sweet, fleeting. Like happiness sometimes. Like the years when she'd thought love was enough.

Her phone lit up again. A text this time: "Call me. Important."

Maria laughed without humor. Everything was important with David. Every deal, every promotion, every urgent matter that couldn't wait. Except her. Except Huck. Except the conversations they kept postponing until the timing was better, until the market stabilized, until something.

She looked at Huck sleeping on the cool floor, his breathing labored. Looked at the phone glowing with David's impatience. Looked at the empty spot on her finger where her ring had been for three weeks now.

Maria picked up the iPhone and typed four words, then pressed send before she could lose her nerve.

"I'm done waiting, David."

She fed Huck the last orange segment. For the first time in years, the kitchen didn't feel empty anymore.