Poolside Reckoning

The papaya sat on the counter, its orange flesh gleaming like a wound she couldn't stop touching. Elena had bought it at the specialty market three days ago, back when she still believed that if they ate something exotic enough, something sweet and unfamiliar, everything between them might taste new again.

Now Marcus was outside by the pool, the water reflecting the bruised purple of sunset. She watched him through the kitchen window, his silhouette against the flickering landscape lights. Their golden retriever, Buster, lay at his feet, head resting on Marcus's bare foot. The dog had always chosen Marcus. Even now, when everything was crumbling, Buster's loyalty remained absolute.

Elena turned back to the spinach wilting in the colander. She'd planned a salad—something light, something healthy. Another attempt at becoming the woman Marcus wanted: disciplined, radiant, effortless. Instead she felt like something that had been left out too long, her edges curling, her center softening into rot.

"You coming out?" Marcus's voice carried through the screen door. He sounded tired. That was new. He used to sound hungry.

She stepped onto the patio. The pool's surface was still, undisturbed. Not that long ago, they'd swam naked under moonlight, laughing when neighbors' lights flickered on, their bodies slick and urgent against each other in the cool water. Now the pool was just another expensive thing they owned, like the papaya, like her, like the marriage.

"The spinach is done," she said, pointless words.

Marcus looked up, eyes avoiding hers, fixing on Buster instead. "I was thinking," he began, and she knew the shape of what would follow before he spoke it. "About how much water's passed under the bridge."

She waited.

"I think we're done pretending, El."

Buster lifted his head, sensing something, and stood to press against Marcus's leg. The simple gesture broke her. She looked at the papaya through the kitchen window, its seeds exposed like tiny black hearts, and remembered how she'd sliced it open yesterday, expecting juice and sweetness, finding only hollow spaces.

"Yeah," she said. "I think we are."

They sat in silence as the sky darkened, the pool reflecting nothing at all, until finally Buster sighed and settled between them, his warmth the only thing left that felt real.