The Riddle of Leaving

Maya's iphone buzzed against the bar top — third time tonight. Sarah. Again. She let it go to voicemail, staring at her reflection in the darkened glass. The bartender, a guy with kind eyes and an unfortunate mustache, slid her another whiskey.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Fine. Just dealing with a... situation." She gestured vaguely at the phone.

"Friend trouble?"

"Something like that."

The truth was, Sarah had been her best friend for fifteen years. Until three weeks ago, when Maya discovered the messages on David's phone. Sarah's husband. The betrayal felt like being hollowed out from the inside.

Her dog, Buster, sensed it immediately. The old golden retriever had stopped eating two days ago, and the vet had given her The Look this morning — the one that says there's nothing left to do but say goodbye. She'd scheduled the appointment for tomorrow afternoon.

Now she sat in this dive bar, watching the Bulls game on the mounted TV, feeling like her entire life was dissolving into something unrecognizable. The sphinx had nothing on her situation — at least that riddle had an answer.

The door opened. Sarah walked in, rain plastering her hair to her face. She spotted Maya and headed straight for the stool beside her.

"You're not answering your phone."

"I'm busy."

"Buster's sick, isn't he?" Sarah's voice cracked. "I saw your post. I came to help."

Maya laughed — a sharp, ugly sound. "Help? Like you helped with David?"

Sarah's face crumpled. "That was... that was stupid. It was meaningless. It ended immediately. You're my friend, Maya. Twenty years. I'm not losing that over a mistake."

"A mistake." Maya turned to face her. "You slept with my husband. That's not a mistake. That's a character revelation."

"I know." Sarah's eyes filled with tears. "I'm not asking for forgiveness. I'm asking to be there for you tomorrow. When you say goodbye to Buster. I know how much he means to you."

The sphinx's riddle flashed through Maya's mind: What walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, three in the evening? A human being, through all its stages. She thought about friendship — how it carries you when you're strong, and whether it should still carry you when you're broken.

"Why?" Maya asked finally. "Why come?"

"Because he's my dog too," Sarah said softly. "We adopted him together. Remember?"

Maya remembered. College graduation, both of them crying with joy, Buster licking their faces. They'd shared everything once.

She drained her whiskey. "Fine. Tomorrow at two. But after that — after Buster — I can't promise anything."

Sarah nodded, reached out, and squeezed Maya's hand. "That's more than I deserve."

Maya's phone buzzed again. This time, she didn't ignore it.