Riddles by the Pool

The sphinx statue at the edge of the resort gardens had lost most of its nose to time and tourists, but its stone eyes still seemed to hold answers Elena couldn't quite reach. She'd been staring at it for three days from her chaise lounge, gin and tonic sweating onto the marble table beside her.

"You're going to burn," Marcus said, dropping onto the adjacent chair. He smelled of coconut oil and expensive cologne—different brands than David used. "The sun's vicious this time of year."

Elena shifted, the orange fabric of her swimsuit sticking to the small of her back. She was thirty-five, but she felt ancient. "Marcus, this isn't appropriate."

"Your husband isn't here. Neither is mine. What happens at the corporate retreat..."

"Stays at the corporate retreat," she finished bitterly. "Original."

They'd both been sent home from the same restructuring meeting three weeks ago—Marcus for sleeping with a junior VP, Elena for refusing to. Now they were both here, expenses paid, on the company's dime, watching their former colleagues compete in the padel tournament below. David had declined to come. Too humiliating, he'd said. He'd probably spent the weekend at the office, trying to prove his indispensability to people who'd already drawn up the paperwork.

"I'm going for a swim," Elena said, standing before Marcus could say something else that would feel true.

The pool was empty—the serious competitors were on the courts, the serious drinkers at the bar. She slipped into the water, let it close over her head. For a moment, suspended in the blue, she couldn't tell up from down. The sphinx's riddle flashed through her mind: what walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, three in the evening? Man. But what did a man become when he'd forgotten how to stand upright?

She broke the surface, gasping. Marcus was at the edge, toes in the water. He held out a hand. "Want to get dinner? Actual food, not company bullshit."

"I'm married."

"You're alone, El. We both are. At least until Monday."

The orange sun was sinking behind the sphinx, casting long shadows across the water. Somewhere, a phone was ringing, unanswered. Elena treaded water, considering everything she'd already lost and what she might still have to gain. The riddle, she realized, wasn't about crawling and walking and leaning—it was about the moments between, when you had to choose your next step even when you couldn't see the ground.

She swam to the edge. "Tomorrow. Not tonight."

Marcus nodded, understanding. She'd told him something true after all.

That night, Elena called David from the balcony. The phone rang seven times before his voicemail picked up. She listened to his voice—warm, familiar, distant—and hung up without speaking. Below, the sphinx watched her go, stone face inscrutable as ever. Some riddles, she decided, you answered by living them.