Static at the Edge

The hotel pool shimmered with an artificial blue that made everything look staged, like a photograph from a life Marcia was supposed to have. She sat on a lounge chair in her swimsuit, refusing to swim, while her phone—a sleek new iPhone she'd bought herself for her forty-fifth birthday—rested face-down on the small table. It had been vibrating every ten minutes with work emails she couldn't bring herself to answer.

The charging cable lay coiled like a snake beside it, its white plastic casing beginning to fray where it bent most. Marcia had meant to replace it three months ago. There was always something.

"You're going to burn," Richard said, not looking up from his own phone. He'd already had three martinis. It was barely noon.

Marcia thought about the vibrator she'd found in his suitcase when she'd been looking for sunscreen—the receipts, the timing, all of it. Richard was a bull in every sense: stubborn, thick-headed, aggressive without cause, plowing through conversations and relationships alike, leaving damage in his wake. Their marriage had become a series of negotiations she was tired of making.

"The sun feels good," she said, which was not an answer.

Her iPhone lit up again. This time she turned it over. A text from her sister: *Did you find out?*

Marcia had found out last night. The iPhone had synchronized with Richard's car Bluetooth, and she'd seen the messages—some woman named Elena, coordinates that matched a hotel in Chicago, dates that matched his "business trips."

She thought about cable. How they were all tethered to something—jobs, marriages, expectations, the endless static of lives that looked perfect from the outside but were fraying underneath. Richard was still a bull in the china shop of their lives, but she was done trying to clean up the broken pieces.

"I'm going for a swim," Marcia said, standing up. She didn't wait for Richard to respond. She dove into the pool, the water shockingly cold, and for a moment, everything was clear. She'd leave her iPhone on the table. Let it buzz. Let the world demand. She was finally ready to disconnect.