The Riddle We Play

The glass walls of the padel court caught the afternoon light, turning our Wednesday games into something like confessionals. That's how it felt with Marcus anyway — twenty years of friendship distilled into serves and volleys, the silence between shots heavy with things we couldn't say.

He'd been different since the diagnosis. Not worse — just lighter somehow, as if the weight of expectation had finally lifted. Today, he watched me set up for a smash and said, quietly: "You know what the sphinx asked Oedipus? What walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, three in the evening."

I missed the ball. It skidded off my racket frame and clattered against the glass.

"That's morbid, Marcus," I said, retrieving the ball from the corner. "Even for you."

"It's not about death, Elena. It's about transformation." He leaned against his racket, chest rising with that careful rhythm I'd learned to monitor. "We spend our whole lives becoming different creatures. The riddle's not the tragedy. Not asking it is."

I looked at him — really looked — and saw how much weight he'd lost. How the friend who'd been my constant through three divorces, two layoffs, and my mother's decline was now something else entirely. Not dying. But changed.

"What's your riddle then?" I asked, serving the ball hard.

"What do you call a friend who's outlived their usefulness?" He returned it effortlessly.

The ball hung between us. I let it drop.

"Marcus, you're not—"

"I'm not being self-pitying. I'm being practical." He walked to the net. "The sphinx doesn't punish you for getting the answer wrong, Elena. It punishes you for not answering at all."

"So what's the answer?"

He smiled — that terrible, knowing smile. "Same as it's always been. A friend."

The ball sat on the court between us. Outside, the city pressed against the glass. I picked up my racket.

"Play," I said. "I'm not done answering yet."

We played until sunset, until the artificial lights hummed on and every answer we'd ever avoided lay between us like riddles finally spoken aloud.