Swimming Through Lightning

The papaya sat untouched on her breakfast plate, its sunset-fleshed center already oxidizing to brown where she'd pierced it with her fork. Three days into what was supposed to be their honeymoon, and Elena couldn't stomach more than coffee and the view.

Outside, the infinity pool blurred with the Pacific—same impossible blue as David's eyes the night he proposed. She'd been swimming through that memory for months now, drowning in what-ifs.

"Everything okay, Ms. Morrow?"

She looked up. The server was twenty, maybe. His name tag said Carlos. He refilled her water with efficient grace, not quite meeting her eyes.

"Fine. Just..." She gestured at the fruit. "Not hungry."

"The papaya's excellent today," he said, awkwardly. "Compliments of the house. For your anniversary."

Her anniversary. She'd forgotten to change the reservation.

"Yes. Thank you."

After he left, she went down to the pool. She'd been swimming laps every morning at dawn—back and forth through water that turned molten orange as the sun breached the horizon. Sixty lengths. Counting strokes. Measuring how many breaths it took to forget him for one minute.

Today the sky was purple-gray, wind lifting the umbrellas in violent gusts. A storm was coming.

She dove in anyway.

Third lap, lightning shattered the clouds—a white wound opening across the sky. One one thousand, two one thousand. Thunder shook the deck chairs.

She kept swimming.

Fifth lap, another strike, closer. The water seemed to hum. She could see other guests scattering, staff shouting something about safety. But something kept her face-down, arms pulling through the sudden chaos.

Because this is what it had been like with David. Beautiful and dangerous. Swimming in water that might or might not kill you. Certain only that each breath was borrowed.

She surfaced, gasping. Rain pelted her face, warm and sharp. The papaya on its untouched plate. The years wasted on someone who loved storms more than shelter.

Elena tread water as lightning walked the horizon's edge, and finally, finally stopped swimming.