The Papaya Incident

The resort pool shimmered like liquid emerald under the midday sun, but Maya couldn't feel its warmth. She'd been floating on her back for forty minutes, staring at the palm fronds that fringed the sky, waiting for the nausea to pass. The papaya at breakfast had been a mistake—or maybe it was the three martinis the night before, or the email she'd sent to Marcus's wife at 3 AM.

'There you are,' Lena said, appearing at the pool's edge like a mirage. Her usual copper hair was pulled back severe, exposing the gray at her temples that she'd stopped dyeing after the divorce. 'You missed the morning session. The facilitator was asking about you.'

Maya righted herself, water cascading off her shoulders. 'Needed to think.'

Lena's orange sundress billowed as she sat on the lounge chair, pulling a pack of cigarettes from her bag. 'About what you're going to say when you get back? Because HR is already asking questions.'

Maya treaded water, the chlorine stinging her eyes. 'How did you—'

'Please.' Lena lit a cigarette with practiced grace. 'I've known you for fifteen years. I know when you're sleeping with someone you shouldn't be.' She exhaled a plume of smoke. 'Though I thought you had better taste than a married VP with three kids and a wife who writes children's books about bunnies.'

Maya swam to the edge and hauled herself up, water sluicing off her skin like a second skin. 'He said he was leaving her.'

'They always do.' Lena handed her a towel. 'The question isn't whether he's lying. The question is whether you can live with yourself if he's telling the truth.'

A waiter appeared with a fruit plate. Papaya, its flesh the color of a fresh bruise. Maya's stomach turned.

'Your friend needs you,' Lena continued, her voice softening. 'But not the way you think. She needs you to tell her the truth before someone else does.'

Maya wrapped the towel around herself, shivering despite the heat. 'I can't.'

'Then you'd better learn to live with the consequences,' Lena said, standing up and smoothing her dress. 'Because they're coming either way.'

As Lena walked away, Maya pressed her palm against the papaya's flesh, feeling how easily it gave under pressure. How something could be so ripe and still be completely hollow inside.