Pool of Regrets

The backyard pool sat stagnant, a turquoise monument to the life Sarah and Richard never built together. Three years of marriage dissolved into property settlements and divvying up furniture, but this pool—he'd insisted on installing it the summer they decided to "start trying"—remained as if mocking her inability to move forward.

Margaret, their golden retriever, bounded through the sliding glass door, nails clicking against the concrete deck. The dog's enthusiasm for life used to annoy Richard. He'd called her "a perpetual motion machine of fur and drool." Now Margaret was Sarah's sole companion in the four-bedroom house they couldn't afford separately.

"You going to swim, or just stare at it?" her sister asked from the chaise lounge, nursing her third gin and tonic. "Richard's gone. The pool's still here. You're not getting any younger."

Sarah adjusted her oversized sun hat, shielding eyes that had cried too many nights in the bathroom. She'd never understood why Richard picked this shade of turquoise—too artificial, like the cheerfulness he faked during dinner parties. But now, staring at the still water, something shifted inside her chest.

She stood and walked to the pool's edge, Margaret trailing at her heels. Sarah placed her palm flat against the warm concrete, feeling the heat radiate upward. The dog nudged her hand, whining softly, as if sensing the sudden weight of her decision.

Without a word, Sarah pulled off her cover-up and dove in. The shock of cool water seized her muscles, her lungs constricting. She broke the surface, gasping, swimming toward the deeper end where Richard used to pretend he wasn't checking his work emails.

"You know," she called out to her sister, treading water, the sunlight fractured across the surface like broken promises, "I think I'm going to sell the house."

Margaret barked sharply, tail wagging.

"About time," her sister said, raising her glass. "To new beginnings."

Sarah swam to the edge, pressed her forehead against the cool tile, and finally let herself laugh—a raw, freeing sound that echoed against the backyard walls. The pool had held their disappointment long enough.