The Riddle of the Sphinx

The Las Vegas sun beat down on the pool deck at the Sphinx Hotel & Casino, turning the water into something that looked more like mercury than a place for leisure. Elena sat at the edge, her legs dangling in, while Marcus stood behind her, his shadow stretching across her like an accusation.

"You're doing it again," he said, and she could hear the exhaustion in his voice. "Running away before the conversation even starts."

She touched the back of her neck, where her hair had started to surrender to humidity and something else—something that felt suspiciously like defeat. "I'm not running, Marcus. I'm sitting by a pool. That's literally the opposite of running."

"Metaphorically. You're always metaphorically running." He sat beside her, close enough that their arms brushed, far enough away that the distance felt measured. "The sphinx asks a riddle, Elena. Answer it, and you pass. Refuse, and you're devoured."

"What's the riddle?"

"Why are you still married to me?"

A cat—some ragged thing that lived in the hotel's landscaped gardens—jumped onto the adjacent chaise. It stared at them with ancient, judgmental eyes, then began to clean itself with methodical indifference.

"That's not a riddle," she said finally. "That's a question I've been asking myself for three years."

"And?"

"And I don't have an answer that satisfies either of us."

They'd come to Vegas for his company's sales conference. Three nights of forced camaraderie and open bars, while she sat by the pool and pretended not to notice how his phone lit up every twenty minutes with messages from someone named "K."

"The cat knows," Marcus said, nodding toward the animal, which had paused in its grooming to return their gaze. "Animals sense these things. The slow death. The quiet decay."

"You're being dramatic."

"Am I?" He stood up, suddenly decisive. "I'm going to pack. I'll catch a redeye. You can stay, finish the week. Use the spa. Charge it to the company."

She watched him walk away—his shoulders set in that familiar posture of controlled resignation—and thought about how strange it was, that the sphinx's riddle had been sitting between them for so long, and neither had been brave enough to speak it aloud.

The cat resumed its bath.

Elena slipped into the pool, letting the cool water close over her head, holding her breath until her lungs burned, thinking that maybe, just maybe, drowning would be easier than finally having to choose.