The Architecture of Grief

Mara stood before the pyramid-shaped sculpture at the gallery opening, her third glass of champagne warming her blood. The piece was brutalist concrete, somehow both heavy and floating, and it reminded her of Tom—the way he'd built their marriage into a structure that looked impressive from the outside but was hollow within.

"You're staring at it like it owes you money," said a voice beside her.

She turned to find a man in an ill-fitting suit, holding an orange canapé that matched the drink-stained circles beneath his eyes. "Just thinking about corporate hierarchies," she said. "How they're always pyramids, and there's never room at the top for people like us."

He laughed, surprised. "I'm David. I designed that piece."

Mara felt herself flush. "I'm sorry. It's extraordinary, really. I'm just—divorcing a pyramid. Metaphorically."

"Literally or figuratively?"

"Both." She gestured toward the massive gallery windows, where beyond them, in the darkness of the building's courtyard, a fountain glowed with soft amber light. "There's a pond out there. Full of goldfish. He bought them for our anniversary, said they were low-maintenance pets for people who didn't have time for anything real."

"And now?"

"Now I'm here, and he's probably at home, talking to fish that don't remember him from one moment to the next. That's the thing about goldfish—they have three-second memories. Sometimes I envied them."

David studied her face, really looked at her, in a way Tom hadn't in years. "What would you do if you could forget?"

"I wouldn't," she said, surprising herself. "The remembering is what makes it real. Even when it hurts. Even when I'm wearing this orange dress—his favorite color, by accident—and feeling like a hollow shell of a person. At least the shell is mine now."

David nodded, slowly, and set his untouched canapé on a passing tray. "Would you like to see the goldfish? I think they're awake."

She hesitated, then took his arm. "Yes. But let's not talk about pyramids anymore. Let's talk about something that's actually alive."