The Spinach Between Us

Mara watched Elena chew, the green fleck caught between her front teeth like a tiny, fluorescent flag. Seven years of friendship, and this was what it came down to: a moment of silence, a choice between kindness and cruelty.

'You got it,' Mara said instead. 'The promotion. I heard.' Elena froze, her fork suspended midway to her mouth, a wodge of spinach still clinging to the tines. 'I wanted to tell you first—' 'But you didn't.' The words dropped between them like stones in a well. 'You told half the office before me.' Elena's face crumpled. 'I didn't know how to say it.' How to say you'd chosen the corporate climb over their midnight strategy sessions, over the promises whispered over too many drinks. Over her.

They'd started together, two analysts drowning in the same sea of spreadsheets, trading IMs about their boss's incompetence and dreams of escape. Now Elena was assistant VP, and Mara was still drowning, still watching from below as her friend ascended. The bull in their department—old, tyrannical Mr. Hendricks—would be reporting to Elena now. The same man who'd made Mara cry in the copy room twice this year.

'Don't tell him,' Elena said, reading her mind. 'About the copy room. Or the time he touched my waist at the holiday party.' 'I have to work with him, Mara.'

The spinach was still there, bright and accusing. Mara imagined letting Elena walk back into the office like that, everyone seeing it, no one saying anything. That's what women did for each other. That's what friends did.

'Elena,' Mara said, her voice softening. 'You have something in your teeth.' Elena's eyes widened with gratitude that felt undeserved. 'Thanks.' She wiped it away with her napkin, the green vanishing like it had never existed. 'So,' Elena said, 'you'll still come to my celebration thing tonight?' Mara looked at the woman she'd loved like a sister, who'd chosen power over solidarity, who'd probably forget about Mara's promotion the next time Hendricks demanded something unreasonable.

'Of course,' Mara said. 'What are friends for?' She watched Elena's shoulders relax, saw the relief bloom across her face, and wondered when exactly she'd become the kind of person who valued the appearance of loyalty more than the thing itself.