The Last Summer
The water in the pool was perfectly still, reflecting the dying light of another September evening. Sarah sat on the edge, feet submerged, the iPhone in her hand lighting up every few minutes with notifications she refused to check. Mark's name kept appearing on the screen, small and persistent, like the man himself.
She'd driven three hours to get to this Airbnb in the mountains, seeking something she couldn't name. The property owner's cat—a sleek black shadow with yellow eyes—had been her only company all afternoon. It sat now on the patio table, watching her with something that looked uncomfortably like judgment.
"You'd think he'd get the message," she said aloud. The cat blinked slowly.
The bear had been Mark's spirit animal, he'd claimed. Strong and protective, he'd said during that first candlelit month when everything felt possible. Now the word just made her think of how he'd cornered her in arguments, how his idea of protection felt more like containment. Last night's fight still echoed in her bones—the way he'd dismissed her promotion as "cute," how he'd reached for her phone when she'd tried to call a cab.
Her iPhone buzzed again. Mark: *We need to talk. Don't be childish.*
Sarah stood up, water dripping from her legs, and walked to the edge of the pool's deep end. The device felt warm in her palm, heavy with years of messages, photos, the digital architecture of a relationship that had grown hollow from the inside out. She thought about throwing it in—watching it sink into that perfect blue darkness.
The cat meowed softly, almost as if warning her.
Instead, Sarah powered it off. The screen went black, her reflection floating briefly in the glass before disappearing. She set it on the table, facedown, next to the cat. Tomorrow she'd drive back. Tomorrow she'd change the locks, call a lawyer, figure out who she was without someone else's expectations shaping her silhouette.
But tonight, she lowered herself into the pool alone, letting the water close over her head, weightless for the first time in years.