The Last Lap

The pool was empty at 6 AM—just how Mara liked it. She'd been coming here every morning since the funeral, swimming laps until her arms burned and her thoughts finally quieted. The water was her only escape from the apartment that felt too large, too full of Arthur's things.

She adjusted her swim cap, the tight pressure against her scalp familiar and grounding. Then she reached for the baseball hat on the deck—Arthur's Cincinnati Reds cap, sweat-stained and perfectly broken in. She'd started bringing it after she found it in his closet, unable to put it away but also unable to leave it at home. It sat on the pool edge like a sentinel while she swam, watching her.

On this Tuesday, something changed. A woman appeared at the pool's edge, maybe thirty-five, holding a cat carrier. The calico inside meowed pitifully.

"Hope you don't mind," the woman said, setting down the carrier. "Mr. Whiskers hates being alone during my swim."

Mara paused, treading water. "I don't mind."

"You're here every morning," the woman observed, sliding into the lane next to Mara. "I'm Elena."

"Mara."

They swam in companionable silence for twenty minutes. When Mara hauled herself out, dripping and exhausted, Elena was already sitting on a bench, towel-drying her hair. The calico cat was now loose, perched regally on Elena's folded towel, watching Mara with golden eyes.

"That's his," Elena said softly, nodding at the Reds cap.

Mara's chest tightened. "He died three months ago."

"I'm sorry." Elena hesitated. "My wife left me two years ago. I swam every morning for a year before it started getting easier."

Mara looked at the cat, at the water, at this stranger who'd somehow seen right through her. "Does it? Get easier?"

"You stop swimming away from it," Elena said. "Eventually, you just swim."

The cat padded over and sniffed Mara's wet ankle before butting its head against her leg. Mara stood frozen, then slowly reached down. The cat purred loudly, vibration traveling up her arm.

"He likes you," Elena smiled.

Mara picked up Arthur's hat and put it on for the first time. It fit perfectly, like it had been waiting.

"Same time tomorrow?" Mara asked.

"Same time."

As she walked to her car, Mara realized she hadn't thought about the grief while swimming. She'd just been swimming. Maybe tomorrow she'd leave the hat on the pool edge. Maybe she wouldn't. Either way, she'd be back.