Last Drink at the Endless Pool

The corporate retreat was her idea. Marissa's solution to everything—team building, trust falls, "finding our why." Elena sat by the pool at the Palm Springs resort, nursing her third gin and tonic, watching the water ripple in the artificial wind.

"You look like a zombie," Marissa said, dropping into the adjacent lounge chair. She'd already changed into her swimsuit, that infuriating confidence radiating off her like heat.

Elena adjusted the brim of her hat, shielding her eyes. "Just tired. The merger's been—"

"Exhausting. I know. That's why we're here." Marissa waved toward the pool, where their colleagues floated like dead fish. "To remember we're human."

Human. The word tasted like copper in Elena's mouth. She'd been sleeping with Marissa's husband for six months. Each encounter left her hollowed out, a walking shell of herself, performing the role of competent executive while something inside rotted.

A stuffed bear sat on the table between them—some absurd ice breaker gift from the morning session. "Build your inner cub," the facilitator had said. Elena had wanted to scream.

"Your palm's bleeding," Marissa noticed suddenly.

Elena looked down. She'd been digging her fingernail into her lifeline without realizing it. A thin red line crossed the heart line.

"Just dry skin," she said.

"You should put something on that."

"I will."

They watched the sun dip behind the artificial palm trees, their fronds perfectly maintained, nothing like the messy, dying ones in Elena's backyard. The ones her husband had planted before she stopped noticing him too.

"Greg's been acting strange lately," Marissa said, casual as breath.

Elena's heart hammered against her ribs. "Has he?"

"Distant. Coming home late." Marissa turned to look at her, and for the first time in three years, Elena saw clear through her. "Do you think someone else would want him?"

The question hung there, heavy and impossible. Elena opened her mouth and nothing came out. She could confess now—ruin everything, finally break the spell, let the destruction happen.

"I don't know," she said instead.

Marissa nodded slowly, turning back to the pool. The water reflected the purple sky, that brief perfect moment before darkness. "I worry sometimes," she said softly, "that we're all just pretending to be alive."

Elena looked at the blood on her palm, at the bear with its dead plastic eyes, at the woman whose trust she'd been eroding month by month. She finished her drink.

"Let's go inside," she said. "I'll tell you a story."