The Sphinx Waits

The Egyptian-themed bar seemed appropriate, somehow. Everything here was an approximation—mock hieroglyphics, a fiberglass sphinx presiding over the karaoke machine, paper umbrellas in drinks that claimed to be cocktails. Just like their marriage.

Maya watched David's phone buzz on the table between them. His iphone, screen lighting up every few seconds with notifications she no longer had access to. She used to know his passcode. Used to press her thumb against that glass like it was a pulse.

"You're doing it again," David said, swirling his drink. "That thing."

"What thing?"

"Looking at me like I'm a riddle you're tired of solving."

Maya almost laughed. He was no riddle. He was an open book she'd simply stopped wanting to read. His hair had started thinning at twenty-seven, something he'd花了整个婚姻试图补偿. His palms were always slightly damp, a detail she'd once found endearing, now just another fact about a person she used to love.

The sphinx behind them watched with painted-on eyes. Maya remembered visiting the real one in Egypt, years before David. That limestone creature had endured thousands of years of wind and sand and still refused to give up its secrets. Their marriage had barely lasted six.

"I met someone," David said quietly.

Maya's stomach didn't drop. Didn't rise. Just sat there, heavy and still. "Okay."

"Her name is Sarah. She's a—"

"I don't need the details, David."

"You're not going to cry?"

"No."

"You're not going to yell?"

Maya looked at his hands, those palms she knew so well. She'd once traced their lifelines, pretended she could read a future there. The irony wasn't lost on her.

"No," she said. "I'm going to finish my drink, pay for my half, and go home. To the apartment you're moving out of tomorrow."

The sphinx seemed to smile, just a little, in the dim light.

"Maya—"

"She can have your passcode, David. That's what you're really telling me, isn't it?"

His silence was confirmation enough.

Outside, the city hummed with the indifferent energy of strangers falling in and out of love. Maya walked toward the subway, pulling her phone from her pocket. She'd need to change all her passwords. Maybe delete the photos. Or maybe she'd leave them exactly as they were—captured moments of two people who'd almost made it work, preserved in digital amber like artifacts in a museum she no longer cared to visit.

The sphinx kept its secrets. And so, she realized, would she.