Riddles by the Pool

Mara lay on the lounge chair by the infinity pool, the desert sun pressing down like a heavy hand. In her hand, an orange — the fruit, not the sunset — that she'd sliced earlier, its juice sticky on her fingers. Beside her, David slept, his breathing rhythmic and innocent, the way it had been for twenty years before last night.

She watched the water of the pool lap against the edge, that artificial blue that didn't exist in nature. Beyond it, the Sphinx sat in the distance, that ancient limestone riddle she'd wanted to see since college. The great stone face with its broken nose and weathered eyes, staring at something beyond them all.

David's phone had buzzed at 2 AM. She'd seen the message: "Can't wait to see you again. - Sarah."

Sarah. Her friend since freshman year. The friend who'd introduced them. The friend who'd canceled her own plans to join them here, then mysteriously changed her mind three days before they left.

The sphinx had asked its riddle to travelers, devouring those who couldn't answer. What walks on four legs, then two, then three? A human life. But no one asked about the other riddles — the ones that came later. What happens when the two legs can't stand together anymore? When the creature that walks beside you isn't who you thought?

She looked at David again. His gray hair thinned, his face relaxed in sleep. He'd been her person for half her life. They'd built a home, raised children, buried parents together. Now this.

The orange segment in her hand was bursting with juice, sweet and sharp. She took a bite, letting the acid wake her up fully. The water below her reflected the Egyptian sky, that impossible blue. Somewhere in that reflection, perhaps, was a version of this marriage that hadn't cracked open like the fruit in her hand.

The sphinx didn't offer answers. It only waited. Maybe that was the point. Some riddles weren't meant to be solved — only lived through.

Mara finished the orange, wiped her sticky fingers on her towel, and closed her eyes. Behind her sunglasses, the tears came, hot and fast. In the water below, the shattered image of herself rippled and reformed, over and over, never quite the same twice.