Poolside Solace

Maria lay by the hotel pool, the sound of cable news droning from a nearby speaker as palm fronds swayed in the afternoon heat. She'd been here three days since Tom left, taking refuge in this impersonal paradise while their marriage dissolved somewhere back in Seattle.

Her phone buzzed—another work email she couldn't bring herself to answer. The corporate wellness program had mandated vitamin D supplements for all employees last month. How ironic, she thought, swallowing the chalky pill while the California sun did the work for free. They were all just trying to manufacture health in bodies that insisted on breaking down anyway.

A golden retriever bounded past, chasing a tennis ball toward the water. It reminded her of Buster, the dog they'd adopted together seven years ago, whose photo still sat on her nightstand. Tom had taken the house. She'd insisted on keeping the dog, then remembered Buster was technically his—birthday gift from his parents. Another thing she hadn't fought for.

The pool's surface rippled in the wind, distorting her reflection. A woman at the next chaise lowered her sunglasses, offering Maria a joint. They smoked in silence as the sky deepened toward dusk.

"You look like someone who needs to hear this," the woman said, taking Maria's hand and tracing the lines of her palm. "See this? You think your story ended. But it's just turning."

Maria watched the smoke curl upward, disappearing into the gathering darkness. For the first time in days, the knot in her chest loosened. Tomorrow she'd figure out the divorce, the dog, the job she no longer wanted. Tonight, she'd just float.