The Riddle at the Edge

The sphinx had been watching me for three days now—its stone face frozen in that eternal mocking grin, perched on the hotel terrace where I'd come to die, or at least to seriously consider the option. I'd left my wedding ring in the bedside table. Brian was probably at work, wearing that baseball cap he thought made him look boyish, unaware that his wife had driven four hours to sit by a pool and feel sorry for herself.

Then came the fox.

It appeared at dusk, padding along the edge of the swimming pool where I'd been floating for hours, my skin pruning in the chlorinated water. The animal watched me with intelligent eyes, then slipped into the shadows as HE emerged from the hotel.

He wore no hat, which felt obscene somehow. His hair was wet, like he'd just emerged from the pool too, though I hadn't seen him swimming. He sat on the lounge chair beside mine, close enough that I could smell whiskey and expensive cologne.

"You're thinking about jumping," he said. It wasn't a question.

"I'm thinking about a lot of things."

"The sphinx asks a riddle of everyone who stays here long enough." He gestured toward the stone statue. "What walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, three in the evening?"

"Man."

"Wrong." His smile was sharp. "The answer is grief. It crawls at first, then it walks beside you, then it leans on you when you're old." He paused. "Unless you let it drown first."

He stood, stripped off his shirt, and dove into the pool with perfect grace. When he surfaced, water streaming from his hair like he'd been reborn, I realized I was trembling.

"Who are you?" I called.

"Someone who answered the riddle wrong." He swam to the edge, resting his chin on his arms. "My wife killed herself in this pool seven years ago today. I come back to remember her, and to warn other women who look like they're considering the same exit."

The fox emerged from the darkness, sat between us, and began to sing—a strange, haunting sound that defied reason.

"What do we do now?" I whispered.

"Now," he said, "we choose different riddles. We choose not to become the answer."

I climbed out of the pool, dripping and alive, and dialed Brian. He answered on the first ring.

"I'm coming home," I said. "And I'm bringing pizza."

The sphinx seemed to nod approval as the fox melted back into the night, leaving only two strangers who'd somehow saved each other from becoming statistics.