The Riddle of Us

Elara found him on the balcony, haloed in the sodium glow of the streetlamp below, nursing his third scotch. The cable box had died two hours ago, taking with it their usual Friday distraction—the television's black mirror now reflected them both back in high definition.

'You're thinking about her,' she said, not asking.

Marcus didn't turn. 'The dog knows, you know. He wouldn't look at me when I came in.'

Their golden retriever, Bear, slept inside, oblivious to the weight he carried. Elara had chosen the name seven years ago, when everything between them still felt like inside jokes and shared secrets, before the silence grew teeth.

She stepped beside him. 'Who is she?'

Marcus swirled his glass. 'It's not an affair. That would be simpler.' He set it down on the railing. 'I've been offered the promotion. In Chicago.' He finally met her eyes. 'I was going to tell you tonight. Then the cable went out, and we sat there, and I couldn't make myself say it.'

The sphinx's riddle, she thought—what was it that walked on four legs, then two, then three? They'd been the two-legged creature for so long she'd forgotten the others.

'And you've already decided,' she said quietly.

'They want me there Monday.' He paused. 'I didn't want to leave without knowing if there was still something here to save.'

She thought about the wilted spinach in the crisper drawer, the unpotted plant she'd bought last spring, the subscriptions they shared, the way they'd become roommates who occasionally touched. The thought of losing him hollowed her out; the thought of staying hollowed her more.

'Bear would hate Chicago,' she said, and Marcus almost smiled.

'You're not coming with me,' he said, not asking.

'No.' She reached for his hand, their fingers finding the familiar grip. 'But you can't leave yet.'

The cable would come back eventually. The signal would return. But standing there on the balcony, watching the city breathe below them, she understood something about endings and beginnings—they were often the same thing, wearing different faces. The riddle wasn't in the answer. It was in the asking.