The Art of Division

The cardboard box sat between them like a coffin. Seven years of marriage reduced to items that could be sorted, labeled, negotiated.

"You take the bear," Elena said, gesturing to the stuffed animal on the shelf — a ridiculous oversized thing she'd won at a carnival their first summer together. Marcus had slept with it every night she'd traveled for work. Now it belonged to him.

Marcus nodded, not meeting her eyes. He wore his grandfather's fedora, the hat she'd secretly hated since their wedding day. He'd look ridiculous in it at forty-five, but that wasn't her problem anymore.

"Barnaby stays with me," she said, and the dog — their dog — whined at the tension in her voice. The golden retriever had been her anniversary gift five years ago, after the second miscarriage. Another thing they couldn't fix.

"I know." Marcus's voice cracked. "I'll get him every other weekend. And holidays."

The goldfish bowl sat on the kitchen counter, its orange inhabitant swimming endless circles in water that needed changing. They'd bought it on impulse during a trip to Coney Island, another attempt to fill something with life.

"You want the fish?" she asked.

"Can't bear to look at it."

"Me neither."

The silence stretched, filled with everything they weren't saying. Elena wanted to say she was sorry about the conference call, the wine, the man from sales whose name she still couldn't remember. Marcus wanted to say he'd spent three years feeling like a guest in his own marriage, that the bear had been the only thing that smelled like her when she was gone.

Instead he picked up the box. The dog followed him to the door, confused, tail wagging hopelessly.

"I'll text you about Barnaby," he said.

"Marcus." He stopped, hand on the knob. "The fish — just flush it."

He nodded once and left. Elena watched him walk to his car, the dog at his heels, the ridiculous bear tucked under his arm. She couldn't remember which of them had bought it, only that it had meant something once. She poured herself a glass of wine and watched the goldfish swim, thinking about how some things just kept circling the same small space, wondering when the water would finally run out.