The Pool Where We Drowned Ourselves

The apartment complex pool was empty at 3 AM, the water black as tar. Elena sat on the edge, her legs submerged, while I stood three feet away—close enough to touch her, far enough to keep from falling apart.

"You're going to bear this alone," she said, not a question. She knew me too well after seven years.

"Someone has to."

"That's not how marriage works, David."

I laughed dark humor. "Since when? We've been bearing separate griefs since the miscarriage. You buried yours in work. I buried mine in whatever would keep me numb."

The pool's surface rippled. A sphinx moth fluttered near the halogen light, drawn and trapped, its dusty wings beating against the impossible brightness.

"I'm leaving," Elena said.

The words didn't land like a blow. They settled like silt.

"For him."

"For myself. But yes, Marcus is part of it."

I nodded. The office betting pool had been running for months. How long until David's wife leaves? The winner would take home six hundred dollars. I wondered if I could place a bet on myself.

"The riddle," I said suddenly. "What walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, three in the evening."

"Man."

"But the sphinx's real question was never about legs. It was about transformation—about becoming something unrecognizable to yourself. We were those people once. The ones who danced in this pool fully clothed at our engagement party. The ones who promised to bear everything together."

She stood up, water dripping from her skin. In the harsh light, I saw how much weight she'd lost. How much I hadn't noticed.

"I'm not asking you to fix this," she said. "I'm asking you to witness it. To really see me, even as I become someone else."

The sphinx moth finally found its way back into darkness.

"I don't know if I can bear that," I whispered.

"Then that's your answer."

She walked away without looking back. I stood there a long time, staring at the pool where we'd once drowned ourselves in each other, watching my reflection distort in water that refused to hold anyone's shape for long.