The Sunday Afternoon Truce

Marcus stood at the padel court net, sweat dripping down his collar, watching Elena's back as she walked to the baseline. They'd played every Sunday for three years, ever since the mediation, ever since the lawyer suggested they find neutral ground. The ball hit the glass wall with a hollow thwack. Neither of them moved.

'You look like a zombie,' she said, not unkindly. 'Like you haven't slept since I saw you last Tuesday.' She was right. He'd been staring at ceiling fans and work spreadsheets, existing somewhere between alive and not, that corporate walking dead state he'd perfected since their daughter left for college.

'Maybe I am one,' Marcus said. 'Maybe this is what forty-five looks like.' He served. The ball sailed long. Elena didn't chase it. They stood there as the Sunday afternoon heat pressed against the court's glass walls like something trying to get in.

A orange tabby cat appeared on the other side of the glass, watching them through the transparent partition. It had been coming to the padel club for months, sleeping on players' gear, accepting bribes of ham sandwiches. Elena walked over and crouched, pressing her palm against the glass. The cat matched her with its own paw.

'Remember when we wanted a cat?' she said. 'Before everything got complicated?' Marcus remembered. They'd been twenty-three then, renting that apartment with the leaky radiator, making love on the weekends and arguing about which color to paint walls they didn't own.

'Before we became these people,' he said.

The cat meowed, a sound that carried through the glass. They'd become strangers who knew each other's coffee orders and grievances and childhood traumas but not who each other were anymore. Two zombies playing padel while their daughter texted them separately from three states away.

Elena straightened up. 'Next Sunday,' she said. 'Same time?' Marcus nodded. They'd keep this up. They'd keep showing up, keep playing padel, keep being people who used to love each other, because the alternative was not showing up at all.

The cat circled once and disappeared into the bushes. Marcus picked up his racquet. Elena threw him the ball. They played another set, not quite dead, not quite alive, somewhere in between, and that was enough for now.