The Bullish Heart

Martin lowered himself into the heated pool, the warm water wrapping around his weary shoulders like a forgotten embrace. At forty-seven, he'd mastered the art of appearing successful — the corner office, the portfolio diversified across twelve sectors, the wife who'd stopped asking if he was happy three years ago.

He thought of Julian, his oldest friend, who'd been found dead last month. Julian had always been the bull in their china shop — stubborn, charging headfirst into ventures that made Martin's stomach clench. While Martin calculated risks, Julian embraced them like lovers. When the cable company IPO'd in '98, Julian poured everything he had into the stock. Martin called it gambling. Julian called it believing in the future of connection.

That bet had made Julian a millionaire by thirty. Martin, safe in his index funds, made twenty percent.

But the water felt hollow tonight. Martin's phone rested on a poolside chair, its dark screen reflecting nothing. He'd missed Julian's last three calls. Too busy. Too important. Too afraid of hearing Julian's voice — the one that always asked, "Are you actually living, Marty, or just surviving?"

The cable guy had come this morning. Martin had downgraded his package, cutting another expense from a budget that never seemed to need cutting. The technician, a kid maybe twenty-two, had said, "Funny thing. You can have all the channels in the world, but you still have to choose what to watch."

Martin submerged himself completely, holding his breath until his lungs burned. When he broke the surface, gasping, he realized he'd spent three decades holding his breath. Waiting for the right moment. The right market conditions. The right time to start living.

Julian had lost everything twice in his life. And rebuilt himself twice. He'd died alone in a cheap motel with a smile on his face, his last text to Martin unread: "Found something good in Mexico. Come visit. Bring that good scotch."

Martin pulled himself from the pool, water dripping onto expensive Italian tile. He picked up his phone, scrolled past the unread message, and booked a flight to Mexico.