Riddles by the Empty Pool
The resort's sphinx statue stared at them with painted stone eyes, its riddle worn smooth by decades of tourists seeking wisdom in plastic cups. Elena lay on the lounge chair, feeling like a zombie—dead inside, moving through motions, her marriage reduced to this: a last-ditch vacation package to Cancun.
Marcus was running. Again. His third morning jog this week, disappearing into the humidity before she woke. She watched him from their balcony, his rhythmic pace carrying him away from her, from the conversations they didn't have, from the years of quiet accumulation that had buried whatever they once were.
The pool below was empty at this hour, water still and reflecting the pinkening sky. Down she went, descending in the elevator with its mirrored walls that showed her a woman she barely recognized—thirty-eight, exhausted, holding a marriage like a cup with a hairline crack, afraid it would shatter if she gripped too tight or let go too completely.
She sat on the pool's edge, feet in the cool water. When Marcus returned, sweat-darkened and breathing hard, he didn't immediately retreat to the room as usual. Instead, he joined her, silent in the adjacent chair.
"The sphinx asks a question," he said finally, not looking at her. "What walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, three in the evening."
"Man," Elena replied. "We all know the answer."
"Do we?" He turned to her then, and she saw it—the exhaustion, the fear, the love that hadn't died but had gone dormant, waiting. "I've been running from something I can't name. Trying to outrun the feeling that we've become strangers who share a bed."
The sphinx watched them both, its ancient painted smile knowing.
"I feel like a zombie too," he admitted, voice cracking. "But I don't want to be dead anymore. I want to figure out what comes next. Together, if you'll still have me."
Elena slipped into the pool then, clothes and all, and held out her hand. He followed. They treaded water as the sun rose, two people learning how to swim toward each other instead of away.