The Palm Reader's Debt

The margarita had been a mistake. Maya sat on the edge of the infinity pool, feet dangling in water that glowed an impossible blue from underwater lights, and thought about what the old woman in town had told her that morning.

"You have a line of abandonment," the palm reader had said, tracing Maya's left hand with a fingernail stained with tobacco. "Three times. The third will be final."

Maya had laughed, paid twenty pesos, and left. She was here for a wedding—her ex-husband's wedding—and the irony was already thick enough without adding local fortune-tellers to the mix.

A small dog, maybe a terrier mix, trotted out from the hotel gardens. It stopped near her lounge chair, sniffed her abandoned cocktail, then looked at her with eyes that seemed uncomfortably knowing. Maya had never liked dogs. They required too much faith.

"Go away," she said, but the dog settled onto the concrete beside her, chin on paws.

She'd come to Mexico alone. Her girlfriend of three years had called it off two weeks ago, saying Maya was "emotionally unavailable"—a phrase that stung more than the actual breakup. Now this destination wedding, this resort surrounded by palm trees that whispered in the wind, this open bar that made bad ideas seem reasonable.

Without deciding to, she slid into the pool. The water shocked her cold, then warm, then strange. She began swimming laps, back and forth, counting her strokes. One, two, three. Her ex-husband was marrying a woman named Chloe. Four, five, six. Her ex-girlfriend was probably seeing someone new. Seven, eight, nine.

The dog stood at the pool's edge, watching her.

"What?" Maya treaded water, breathless. "You think I'm pathetic?"

The dog dipped its head, then turned and walked away toward the palm trees, toward the dark beach beyond.

Maya followed it out of the pool, dripping and shivering in the night air. She walked barefoot across the grass, past the swaying palms, until she reached the sand. The ocean stretched black and infinite before her.

She'd been abandoned three times now. The palm reader had been right about that much.

But as she stood there, toes in the sand, listening to the waves, Maya realized something: the dog hadn't abandoned her. It had simply kept walking. Had invited her, maybe.

She waded into the ocean, letting the salt water sting her legs, and for the first time in years, she didn't feel like waiting for someone to leave. She felt like she might finally be the one to swim away.