The Weight of Water

The pool glowed with an artificial blue light, the water surface broken only by the solitary figure floating in its center. Maya sat on the edge, her feet dangling in the cool water, clutching her iphone like a lifeline. The screen illuminated her face in the darkness — 2:47 AM, no new messages.

She'd come to Aaron's engagement party with every intention of telling him how she felt. Three years of friendship, countless late-night conversations, that moment last spring when they'd almost kissed in the rain outside that dive bar. But she'd hesitated, and now he was marrying someone else. Someone named Jessica who liked orange juice and hiking and didn't overthink everything.

"You're going to turn into a prune," a voice said behind her.

Maya jumped, nearly dropping her phone into the water. Aaron's sister Rachel sat down beside her, handing her a sliced orange from the platter she'd brought out.

"Couldn't sleep," Rachel said, her voice softer than usual. Gone was the sharp-tongued lawyer who'd grilled Maya about her career prospects at dinner. "Aaron's happy, you know."

"I know," Maya said, though the words felt like swallowing stones.

"But you're not."

It wasn't a question. Rachel's cat, a siamese named Buddha, wound around their legs, purring loudly. The absurdity of the moment hit Maya — sitting at an infinity pool at 3 AM with the sister of the man she loved, eating orange segments while a cat demanded attention.

"I keep waiting for the right moment," Maya admitted finally. "But there is no right moment. There's just now, and now, and now. And every now, I'm still here, watching from the sidelines."

Rachel was quiet for a long time. "You know what I think? I think we spend so much time waiting for our lives to start that we forget we're already living them. Buddha doesn't wait. He just is."

The cat purred louder, as if in agreement. Maya looked at her iphone again, then set it face down on the concrete. The screen went dark.

"I should go," she said, but she didn't move.

"Or," Rachel said, "you could stay. The water's actually perfect."

Maya slipped into the pool, clothes and all. The water was shockingly cold, then strangely perfect. She floated on her back, looking up at the stars. The iphone sat on the edge like a small, dark tombstone. Below her, in the water's reflection, countless futures rippled and vanished.

For the first time all night, she wasn't waiting for anything.