Poolside Estrangement

The pool was empty at 6 AM—that's why Mara chose it. Forty laps of backstroke, the water cool against her skin, the world reduced to the rhythmic splash of her arms and the pattern of cracks in the ceiling above. Swimming was the only thing that silenced the static in her head.

She climbed out, dripping onto the concrete, and reached for her bag. The orange prescription bottle sat next to her keys—Vitamin D, the doctor had said, though they both knew it was placebo for something else. Some deficiencies couldn't be fixed with supplements.

"You're here early."

Mara didn't turn. She'd know Elena's voice anywhere—three years of friendship, two years of something more, six months of silence since the night Elena chose the promotion over telling the truth about what happened at the company holiday party. Mara's fault, technically. She'd been the one to report the harassment. Elena had been the one who stood beside the harasser in the meeting room, said she must have misunderstood.

"Early swim," Mara said, dry swallowing a vitamin. "Early departure."

A calico cat wound around Elena's ankles—the stray that lived near the mailboxes, the one they'd rescued together during that first winter of their friendship. Elena reached down to scratch its ears, and Mara felt something tighten in her chest.

"She still remembers you," Elena said.

"Cats have long memories."

"People too."

Mara finally looked at her. Elena had cut her hair. She looked tired, successful, hollowed out in the way people who'd sold pieces of themselves often did.

"Some things," Mara said, "should be forgotten."

She gathered her things, the smell of chlorine already fading, replaced by the scent of impending awkwardness and something like grief, though she'd never admit it. The cat meowed, choosing neither of them, padding toward the maintenance shed instead.

"I got what I wanted," Elena said to Mara's back. "The promotion. The corner office. It's everything I thought it would be."

Mara paused at the gate. "That's the problem with getting what you want. You realize you wanted the wrong thing."

She didn't look back. Some lessons took forty laps to learn. Some took six months. Some, she suspected, would take a lifetime of swimming alone at dawn, waiting for the water to wash clean what couldn't be undone.