The Riddle We Never Solved
I floated in the pool at 2 AM, the water still and black as ink. The Egyptian-themed resort had its absurdities—a concrete sphinx at the edge of the patio, its painted face cracked, watching me with a smile that hadn't aged well. But the water was perfect: cool enough to shock me awake, warm enough to hold me.
Mark's iPhone glowed on the lounge chair where he'd left it. A notification slid across the screen—"U up?"—from someone named Sarah. I'd never heard of a Sarah.
He'd gone running again. Every morning of our ten-year marriage, through hangovers and holidays, through my father's funeral and our anniversary dinner, Mark went running. I used to find it admirable. Now I saw it for what it was: escape. Forward motion that was really standing still.
The water lapped against my skin. I thought about the last three months—how Mark had been present and absent at once, how sex had become efficient, how conversations stopped short. I'd thought it was stress. Work. The housing market. Anything but this.
The sphinx seemed to be laughing at me. Its riddle wasn't "What walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, three in the evening?" It was simpler: How long can you live beside someone without knowing them at all?
The iPhone lit up again. "Miss your face."
I submerged myself completely, held my breath until my chest burned, then broke the surface gasping. The water felt different now—like something I needed to escape, not something holding me.
Mark would return in twenty minutes, sweaty and flushed and righteous, expecting coffee and sympathy for his exertion. He'd find his phone on the table, screen bright with evidence. Or maybe he'd find me gone.
I climbed out of the pool, water streaming off me like shed skin. The sphinx watched, unfazed. Some riddles you never solve. Some questions you stop asking.
I picked up the iPhone. The screen reflected my face—pale, rivulet-streaked, younger than I felt. Tomorrow I'd call a lawyer. Tomorrow I'd drain the pool. Tonight, I'd wait for Mark to stop running away from me.