The Pyramid of Quiet Regrets

The pool was empty when Elena arrived at 6 AM—chlorine blue under dawn's gray light. She'd fled her hotel room, suffocating under the weight of the PowerPoint presentation due at noon. The pyramidal structure of the corporate reorganization plan spread across her laptop screen like a tombstone.

She slipped into the water, cold enough to shock her breath away. At thirty-eight, she was halfway up that pyramid—Senior Director, on track for VP by forty-two. Her mother had been so proud at Thanksgiving, boasting about Elena's "meteoric rise" between servings of creamed spinach. Elena had smiled through the meal, unaware she'd had spinach in her teeth for three hours. Her younger brother had waited until they were alone in the kitchen to tell her. "You looked ridiculous, El. Just like you looked when you took that job instead of going to law school."

She hadn't spoken to him since. That was three years ago.

Now she kicked toward the deep end, wondering how many things were stuck in her teeth that nobody mentioned anymore. The retreat's coordinator had organized a softball game—"corporate baseball"—for the afternoon teambuilding session. Elena had played in college, briefly, before an injury and an internship and suddenly she was someone who used to play, rather than someone who played.

"Mind if I join?"

She hadn't heard Jim approach. The CEO was in his swim trunks, holding a beer cooler at 6:15 AM.

"Couldn't sleep," he said, sliding in beside her. "My daughter has a travel baseball tournament this weekend. I keep checking the weather app like it matters. Like my worrying about it matters."

They floated in silence for a while.

"You're up for the VP position," Jim said suddenly. "HR asked me about you."

"I didn't know there was an opening."

"There isn't. Not yet. But there will be." He dunked his head underwater. When he surfaced, he said, "My daughter asked me yesterday if I'm happy. I told her about the pyramid—how I'm at the top now, how I spent thirty years climbing. She asked if the view was worth it."

Elena thought about spinach stuck in her teeth, about the brother she used to play catch with until their gloves started gathering dust in separate garages.

"Is it?" she asked.

Jim laughed, surprising himself. "I have a piece of spinach stuck in my teeth since breakfast, don't I?"

Elena smiled. "Since breakfast."

"And nobody told me. That's what it's like at the top of the pyramid."

He climbed out, dripping pool water onto the concrete. "Think about the VP position. But maybe call your brother first."

Elena stayed in the pool until her fingers pruned, until she could no longer see the pyramid from underwater, only light refracting through blue—endless, directionless, and free.