Pyramid Schemes of the Heart

Sarah stood at the edge of the pool, nursing her third gin and tonic, watching her coworkers cannonball into the turquoise water during the mandatory corporate retreat. The CEO, Richard—everyone called him Bear behind his back—held court in the hot tub, holding court about the company's new compensation structure.

"It's a pyramid," Richard said, spreading his arms wide. "But not like those scams. Like—building something greater together."

Sarah's phone buzzed. A text from Mark, her oldest friend, the one she'd slept with last week: *Can we talk?*

She'd spent twelve years climbing this corporate ladder, skipping meals, missing her mother's final moments in a hospital room. All for what? A floating vacation in Cabo where she had to pretend Richard's business philosophy wasn't straight out of a multilevel marketing scheme?

"Sarah! Come in!" Richard called. "The water's perfect!"

She'd been sick for weeks. Nausea, dizziness. The doctor had recommended spinach—lots of it. Something about iron. She'd been eating it raw, cooked, in smoothies, but still the exhaustion pressed down on her like a weighted blanket.

The word *friend* echoed in her mind. Mark had been her friend since they were seven, since he'd punched a bully who made fun of her braces. Now he wanted to talk. Probably to tell her it was a mistake, that he'd met someone, that their friendship could never survive what they'd done.

"Pyramid," she said aloud, testing the weight of it. Everything was a pyramid. Corporate ladders. Romantic fantasies. The impossible standards women held themselves to.

Sarah set down her drink, stripped off her cover-up, and dove into the pool. The water shocked her cold, then welcoming. She swam to the bottom and stayed there, holding her breath, watching the distorted light ripple above. For a moment, she considered just staying there. Let the bear win. Let the pyramid crush her.

Then she kicked upward, breaking the surface with a gasp.

"You okay?" Richard asked, looking genuinely concerned.

Sarah treaded water, looking at the man who'd never learned her last name despite twelve years of her life. "Never been better," she said.

She pulled herself from the pool, water dripping like something being shed. Found her phone, typed back to Mark: *Yes. Dinner tomorrow. 8.*

The pyramid still existed. The bear still roared. But she'd stopped holding her breath underwater.