Riddles in the After Hours

The benefit gala at the Met was exactly what Elena needed: free champagne, enough ambient noise to disappear into, and the Great Sphinx of Hatshepsut staring impassively at her from its climate-controlled case. She'd spent three hours picking out this navy fascinator—the fascinator with the absurd peacock feather that Mark always called pretentious. Mark, who was currently likely texting one of his coworkers, judging by the way Elena's iPhone kept vibrating in her clutch. She ignored it.

'You look like you're trying to solve a riddle,' a voice said beside her.

Elena turned. A man in a sharp suit, maybe forty, holding two glasses of champagne. He gestured at the sphinx with his glass. 'Ancient Egyptians believed the sphinx guarded knowledge. Tested worthiness.' He paused. 'My name's David.'

'Elena.' She accepted the drink. 'I'm not feeling particularly worthy tonight.'

'Bad date?'

'Bad marriage.' She surprised herself by saying it. 'Ten years, and I still can't figure out if I'm the one asking the questions or answering them.'

David nodded slowly. 'The sphinx had that riddle about what walks on four legs, then two, then three. Maybe marriages are like that. Start crawling, learn to walk, end up leaning on something.' He swirled his champagne. 'My ex-wife said I was too comfortable with the crawling part.'

Elena laughed—really laughed, for the first time in weeks. The catering staff passed with trays. She reached for a spanakopita, the spinach filling flaking onto her dress. 'Shit,' she muttered, dabbing at the stain with her napkin.

'Doesn't matter,' David said. 'The Egyptians believed even imperfections were sacred.' He was watching her now with an intensity that made her skin prickle. 'What would you ask the sphinx, if you could?'

Elena thought about it. The vibrating in her purse had stopped. 'I'd ask how to know when you're done trying. When you're allowed to stop proving your worth.' She took a sip of champagne, the bubbles sharp against her throat. 'The water works were built on the assumption that everything returns to the source. Maybe some things are just meant to flow backward.' She didn't know what she was saying anymore, the alcohol and exhaustion mixing in her blood.

David set down his glass. 'Maybe the sphinx doesn't have answers. Maybe it's just there to make you ask better questions.' His hand brushed hers—deliberate, electric. 'Stay. Finish your drink. Let the riddle sit.'

Elena looked back at the limestone face, its expression unchanged after three thousand years. The vibrating started again. She turned off her phone and placed it on a nearby pedestal, facedown.

'The riddle,' she said, 'is whether I'm supposed to stay or go.' She looked at David. 'I think the sphinx is laughing at me.'

'Only because you think there's a right answer,' David said, stepping closer. 'Sometimes the answer is just another question.'

Elena finished her champagne. The sphinx watched them both, its limestone features caught in the amber glow of the gallery lights, keeping all their secrets.