The Sphinx by the Cable Box

Mira sat on the edge of the hotel bed, watching flickering light from the cable news channel dance across the wall. Three AM in a city she didn't know, eating cold room service spinach that tasted like regret and too much salt.

Her phone glowed with David's last message: I can't be the person you need right now.

She'd flown across the country for what she thought was their beginning. Instead, she'd arrived at the hotel to find a note and a cancelled reservation. He'd booked her a separate room. Paid for three nights. The cowardice of it made her chest ache.

The sphinx-like statue on the bedside table—kitschy, gold-leafed, probably made in China—seemed to mock her silence. It knew the answers to riddles she hadn't figured out how to ask. Why do we choose the people who will hurt us most? How do you know when to stop hoping someone will change?

Her mother had warned her. That bear of a woman, broad-shouldered and fierce, had grabbed Mira's wrists the night before her wedding and said, You're marrying a man who disappears when things get hard. You saw it when his father died. You saw it when you miscarried. Why do you think this time will be different?

Mira had pulled away then, defended him. David was processing. He was careful with his feelings. That wasn't cowardice—it was depth.

Now she touched her throat, where his necklace still hung. An orange stone he'd bought in Santa Fe last spring, when they'd almost been happy.

She stood up, walked to the window. The city sprawled beneath her, indifferent and vast. Somewhere below, David was sleeping. Or maybe lying awake, feeling relief that he'd avoided the confrontation. She'd never know which.

The cable news anchor's voice droned on about something that didn't matter—a storm somewhere, a scandal somewhere else. None of it mattered.

Mira took off the necklace. Let it drop into the trash can with the spinach container.

She'd check out in the morning. Go home. Bear the weight of being right when she'd wanted to be wrong.

The sphinx kept its secrets. Some things, you had to figure out for yourself.