The Riddle at Rain's Edge

The pool had been closed for hours, its surface a black mirror reflecting the storm-churned sky. Maya sat on the edge, her feet dangling in the tepid water, watching lightning fracture the darkness in silent bursts. She wasn't supposed to be here—none of them were. The corporate retreat had been evacuated to the main building three hours ago when the weather turned. But Maya had needed the quiet. She'd needed to not hear him comparing everything to baseball analogies, as if life were just a series of innings and you could always call timeout.

'Thought I'd find you here.'

She didn't turn. David's voice was barely audible over the rising wind. 'You always did love a good storm.'

'The sphinx by the garden gate asked for you,' she said, not looking at him. 'Said you owed it an answer.'

He laughed, a short, sharp sound. 'Always with the riddles, Maya.' He sat beside her, careful not to touch her. 'Remember that night in Chicago? When you told me you'd never loved anyone but me?'

The memory twisted in her chest like a knife she'd forgotten was there. 'I also said I'd never lie to you. I guess I managed both in one sentence.'

Lightning struck somewhere close, illuminating his face—the same face she'd woken up to for seven years, now suddenly foreign as the moon. He looked tired. She supposed she did too.

'I don't want a divorce,' he said.

'You want what you can't have. That's always been your problem.' She pulled her feet from the water. 'We've been playing games since before we got married, David. Just because you stopped keeping score doesn't mean I did.'

'Is there someone else?' His voice cracked on the question.

'There's a ME. There's a me I haven't been in a decade. Someone who doesn't strategize every conversation like some championship game.' She stood up, water dripping from her legs. 'The sphinx asks: what walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three in the evening?' She looked down at him. 'Man. But I think the real riddle is how we crawl, then walk upright, then lean on things we used to carry.'

The first heavy drops began to fall as she walked away. She didn't look back to see if he was still sitting there, or if he'd finally learned to watch something besides his own strikeouts.