The Last Vitamin

The cable modem had been blinking for three days before Elena finally called the provider. At forty-seven, she supposed she should care more about staying connected, but the truth was, she welcomed the silence.

Her husband Mark had left six months ago. Moved out to a "bachelor pad" downtown, though at fifty, bachelor was a generous term. He'd been angry about something—everything, really. The bull-headed pride that had once attracted her now felt like a weapon she'd been beaten with for two decades.

"Service will be restored by Friday," the automated voice promised.

Elena swallowed her morning vitamin D supplement—doctor's orders, though she suspected the real deficiency was in something the lab couldn't measure. She caught her reflection in the hallway mirror: silver threading through dark hair, eyes that had witnessed too many disappointments to still look surprised by them.

Then came the knock at her door.

Nathan. The boy—no, man, he was thirty-two now—who'd lived next door when she was married. He'd been the fox she'd deliberately not seen, the cunning intelligence she'd pretended not to notice in his teenage eyes. He'd come over to fix a leak once, and she'd sent him away with a buttoned shirt and averted gaze.

"Heard you're offline," he said, holding up his toolkit. "Thought you might need... cable repair."

The innuendo hung between them, seventeen years overdue.

She invited him in. She poured tea. They talked about everything except what they were both thinking. He told her about his divorce. She told him about hers, though not the part where she sometimes woke up grateful to be alone.

"I was in love with you," Nathan said suddenly. "When I was nineteen."

Elena's heart hammered against her ribs like it hadn't in years. "I know," she said softly. "I wasn't. But I think I wanted to be."

Later, she canceled the repair appointment. The modem could blink forever. Some connections, she realized, didn't require cables at all.