The Champagne Was Flat Anyway
The pool at the Sunset Palms Resort wasn't actually blue. Up close, you could see it was more of a chemical green, the color of something that shouldn't exist in nature. Maya stood at the edge at 2 AM, holding her shoes, wondering if she was the kind of person who would—or wouldn't—climb into a strangers' pool fully clothed.
Her phone buzzed on the lounge chair. David again. The texts had been coming since dinner, a slow escalation from "Are you okay?" to "We need to talk" to "Please answer." She'd left the wedding reception halfway through the best man's speech—a rambling toast about building a life together like a pyramid, strong foundation, upward toward heaven. Something about the metaphor had made her stomach turn.
"What are we doing?" she'd asked David the week before, standing in their kitchen.
He'd been chopping spinach for a salad they'd both forget to eat. "What do you mean?"
"This. Us. Everything." She'd gestured vaguely at the house, the life, the ten years she couldn't quite remember building. "Sometimes I feel like I'm sleepwalking."
He'd set down the knife. "You're tired. You've been working too hard."
He was always so reasonable. That was the problem. He'd never understood that some feelings don't have solutions, only witnesses.
Now, hours later and three states away, Maya sat at the resort bar watching the bartender build a champagne tower. Glass upon glass, a fragile pyramid of potential disasters. He poured from the top, golden liquid cascading down, filling each flute in sequence until one in the middle cracked from the pressure.
"Happens every time," the bartender said, mopping up. "Something's gotta break."
The sky was turning that particular shade of orange that only exists in the moments between what you thought your life would be and what it actually is. Maya ordered another drink, removed her wedding ring, and lowered herself into the pool—clothes, consequences, and all. The water was warmer than she expected, and for the first time in years, she felt entirely weightless.