The Storm Before the Rain

The padel court was empty except for them. Rain slashed against the corrugated metal roof like it was trying to break through, drowning out the awkward silence between Marcus and Elena. They'd been coming here every Tuesday for three months — his idea, something to do instead of sitting across from each other at dinner with nothing to say.

Marcus stretched his hamstring, his breath visible in the chilled air. He'd been running more lately, early mornings before dawn, as if distance accumulated in miles could somehow bridge the inches between them in bed. Elena watched him from the bench, her racquet loose in her hand. She used to watch him like that when they first met, at that baseball game in college, as if he was capable of surprising her.

"You going to serve or what?" she asked, not unkindly. Just tiredly.

Lightning flashed through the skylight, illuminating the deepening lines around her mouth. Marcus flinched. In that split second of brightness, he saw it clearly: the particular way she'd stopped looking at him sometime between the promotion he'd celebrated alone and the funeral she'd attended alone, while he closed deals in Chicago.

He dropped the ball. It rolled toward the drainage channel where water pooled darkly, reflecting nothing.

"Elena," he said. "I think —"

"Don't," she cut him off, standing up. She walked to the net, not away from him. "Just finish the game."

"Is that what we're doing?" The question hung between them, heavier than the storm pressing against the roof. "Finishing?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she bounced a ball on her racquet, once, twice. A rhythm they'd established without trying.

Marcus realized then that he wasn't running toward something anymore. He was running away, had been for years, and she'd been standing still all this time, waiting for him to notice the distance he'd put between them. The ball hit the ground with a finality that made his chest ache.

"Serve," she said again.

He did. The ball hit the net and dropped into the water at their feet, and neither of them moved to retrieve it.