Shallow End

The employee pool had been shrinking for months, but David still found himself waist-deep in the resort's chlorinated waters, listening to Gary from Accounts drone on about synergies. The corporate retreat had been Sandra's idea—something about team building, though the only thing being built was David's resolve to finally quit.

"You okay, man?" Gary asked, floating on his back like a dead beetle. "You look like you're drowning."

David forced a smile. "Just thinking about the restructuring."

"Oh, totally. They're trimming the fat, you know? But hey, we're safe."

David wasn't so sure. He'd seen the spreadsheets. He was exactly the kind of fat that needed trimming.

He waded toward the pool's edge, where Sandra sat beneath a plastic palm tree, nursing something pink and overflowing with tiny umbrellas. She caught his eye and raised her glass—her palm pressed against the condensation, leaving a print that would evaporate within minutes. Everything evaporated. Promises, loyalty, the twenty grand they'd both poured into this company's stock options.

"Join me for a drink?" she called out, but her smile didn't reach her eyes.

"In a minute."

David dipped his head underwater. The muted world was better. NoGary, no Sandra, no spreadsheets. Just the hum of filtration systems and his own heartbeat, slower somehow. He could stay under forever—people did it all the time. Just slipped beneath the surface and decided not to come back up.

His lungs burned. He breached the surface, gasping, and found Sandra standing at the pool's edge, extending a hand.

"Gary was just saying they're announcing the layoffs tomorrow," she said quietly. "Before we fly back."

David stared at her palm—lifeline, heartline, all the bullshit lines that were supposed to mean something. "And?"

"And I told them you'd take the package."

The water lapped against his chest. "You what?"

"It's good, David. Forty weeks, the consulting gig on the side. You've been talking about writing that novel for years."

He thought about his half-finished manuscript sitting on his laptop, the one about a man who keeps waiting for his life to start. "You threw me under the bus."

"I threw you a lifeline." She sat down on the edge, feet in the water. "Gary's getting fired too. Everyone except me. They're keeping me to clean up the mess."

The plastic palm tree swayed above them. "So you're the scapegoat."

"I'm the one who can afford to be." Sandra's voice cracked. "My divorce came through last week. I got the house. You know what alimony plus my salary adds up to?"

David did the math. "Enough to survive whatever happens next."

"Exactly. So take the package, David. Write your damn book." She stood up. "The water's fine. Just don't stay in the shallow end forever."

He watched her walk away toward the hotel, towards whatever came next. The employee pool would keep shrinking. The water would keep rising. But for the first time in years, David thought he might finally learn to swim.