Supplements and Survivors

The pool in Palm Springs was exactly what Maya needed — or so she'd told herself when booking the trip. Forty-two years old, newly divorced, and staring down a suspicious mammogram report, she'd decided her body deserved exactly three days of doing nothing.

Then she saw Elena sitting by the shallow end, wearing the same oversized sunglasses they'd bought together on that ill-fated trip to Tulum ten years ago. Elena waved, her palm pressed against the sun-warmed concrete like she was claiming territory.

"You're selling vitamins now," Maya said, sinking into the lounge chair beside her former best friend. The water bottle Elena had been sipping from featured an MLM label Maya recognized from Instagram ads.

"They're botanical supplements," Elena corrected, then laughed. "God, you haven't changed. Still seeing through everyone's bullshit." She paused. "How's your mom?"

"Still insists her cancer was caused by microwave ovens. Still swallowing forty pills a day. Still sick."

"I'm sorry, Maya."

"Yeah. Me too."

They both watched a woman swimming laps alone in the deep end, rhythmic and relentless.

"Remember when we got palm readings at that carnival?" Elena asked suddenly. "The psychic told me I'd be wealthy by thirty."

"You told her you'd sell your soul for a Mercedes."

"And you asked if you'd ever find true love."

"She told me I'd die alone, surrounded by cats."

Elena smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "You know why I really came here this weekend? I heard about what happened with your job. And the divorce."

"Word travels."

"I was worried about you."

Maya thought about the mammogram. About the emptiness of her apartment. About how Elena had slept with her ex-fiancé three days before the wedding, then claimed it was because she'd "always loved him." The same ex who'd left Maya for someone else six months later.

"I'm fine," Maya said.

"You don't have to be."

The swimmer in the deep end finished her laps and pulled herself out of the pool, water streaming from her body like she'd been baptized.

"These vitamins," Elena said, placing her hand over Maya's. "I'm not just selling them. I've been taking them. For... everything. The anxiety. The insomnia."

"Do they work?"

"Honestly?" Elena looked at her palm, then at Maya. "No. But swallowing them feels like doing something, you know? Like control."

"Yeah," Maya said. "I know."

She thought about the biopsy scheduled for next week. About how she'd almost bought herself a bottle of Elena's supplements last night, alone in her hotel room, the bottle promises glowing in the dim light. How she'd put them back on the shelf.

"I'm scared too, Maya," Elena whispered.

"We're all swimming, Elena. Some of us just pretend we know the strokes."

Elena's hand squeezed hers, palm to palm, the future pressing into the past.

"Let's go get drinks," Maya said, standing up. "Real ones. Not supplements."

"Only if you let me pay."

"You're not wealthy yet, Elena."

"The palm reader gave me until forty. I've got two years left."

Maya laughed, and for the first time in months, it didn't feel like pretending.