The Seventh Inning Stretch

Mara traced the lines on her palm while waiting for David to speak. The ceiling fan pushed humid air around the kitchen, doing nothing against the August heat. A glass of water sweated on the table between them, condensation pooling like the words neither could say.

"I met someone," David said finally. Not looking at her. Looking at the baseball game flickering silently on the TV—some meaningless late-season matchup between two last-place teams.

Their cat, Jupiter, jumped onto the table and nudged David's hand with his head. The old orange tabby had been Mara's companion through three apartments and one failed marriage before David. Now Jupiter purred against the hand of the man who was leaving.

Mara's palm stung where she'd dug her fingernails in. "How long?"

"Three months. It's not about you, Mare. You're perfect. It's just—"

"Don't." She stood up. "Don't tell me it's not about me when you've been sleeping in our bed for ninety days while someone else was on your mind."

David reached for his water glass. His hand shook. "I didn't know how to tell you. I was cowardly. I know that."

Jupiter abandoned David for Mara's lap, sensing the shift in atmospheric pressure. Cats always knew before humans did.

"So that's it?" Mara asked, scratching behind Jupiter's ears. "Thirty-five years old and we're doing this in a kitchen while a baseball game plays in the background? Should I at least get to finish my drink?"

"I'm staying at Marcus's tonight."

"Marcus who plays baseball with you every Thursday?"

"Yeah."

"Did he know?"

"Everyone knows, Mara. That's the thing about secrets—they leak."

She looked at her palm again, as if the lines there might have rewritten themselves in the past five minutes. "Okay then. Go play baseball with Marcus. I'll be here with Jupiter and my sweating water glass, living my perfect little life that wasn't enough for you."

David stood at the door, hand on the knob. "I never said you weren't enough. I said I'm not enough."

He left. The game on TV cut to commercial. Jupiter purred louder, pressing his weight against Mara's stomach, and she let herself cry at last, hot and useless as summer rain.