Vitamin D for the Soul

Maria stood at the kitchen counter, staring at the amber bottle of vitamin D supplements. Her doctor had prescribed them after the miscarriage—something about hormones and grief and needing more light in her life. She swallowed one dry, watching Richard pack his suitcase in the bedroom.

The bear economy had finally caught up with them. Richard's tech startup, once worth millions on paper, had collapsed. Their underwater mortgage was now literally underwater, as the basement flooded last spring. She'd spent hours bailing out water, imagining she was saving their marriage along with the foundation.

"You're being selfish," Richard said, appearing in the doorway with his suitcase. "I need to find myself. This corporate job is killing me."

Maria thought of Sarah—the fox-faced junior analyst who'd been "mentoring" Richard during his "transitional period." Sarah, who always left her vitamin gummies on Maria's desk with little encouraging notes. Sarah, who'd conveniently mentioned she was taking horseback riding lessons, though she never struck Maria as the equestrian type.

The bull had already left the pen. Sarah had sent Maria a text this morning: "Richard told me everything. I'm so sorry, but we couldn't hide our feelings anymore."

"Go," Maria said, her voice steady. "But leave the vitamins. They're expensive."

Richard hesitated. "You'll be okay. You always land on your feet."

That was the thing about being the strong one. Everyone assumed you'd survive, so they felt free to break you.

After he left, Maria opened the bottle again and swallowed three more vitamins. They chalked up inside her throat, bitter and pharmaceutical. She poured herself a glass of water and watched a fox dart through the backyard—real, this time, its coat burnt orange against the snow. It moved with purpose, alone and uncompromising.

Maria sat on the sofa, surrounded by boxes she'd packed for Richard. The bear market had taken everything except this: the sudden, sharp clarity that some things—some people—were just bad investments. She swallowed the taste of pills and grief, feeling almost light.