Vitamins for Drowning
The morning after Elias left, Sarah found herself staring at the bottle of prenatal vitamins on her bathroom counter. She'd been taking them for three months, planning, hoping, building a future that had evaporated overnight. Now they sat there like tiny accusations.
Her German shepherd, Max, nudged her hand with that wet, concerned nose of his. He'd been sleeping outside their bedroom door since the fight, as if guarding her from Elias's ghost. The dog had always known first.
Sarah turned on the faucet, watching the water swirl down the drain in hypnotic spirals. She remembered Elias's last words: *You're too much. Too intense. Everything with you is life or death.* The irony burned — he was the one who'd left, but somehow she was the one drowning.
She caught her reflection in the mirror. Wild hair escaped its messy bun, framing eyes that looked older than thirty-two. She'd stopped coloring the grays last year; Elias had said he loved the natural look, but she wondered if he'd loved the convenience of someone who'd stopped trying.
That afternoon, Sarah walked Max to the river where they used to meet Elias for lunch. The water glittered deceptively peaceful. She watched a couple struggle with their golden retriever, the dog towing them toward geese with pure, unadulterated joy. Sarah felt something crack open in her chest.
"Max," she whispered, "you loyal bastard." The dog pressed against her leg, solid and present and incapable of betrayal.
She threw the vitamins into the river.
They bobbed once, twice, then disappeared beneath the surface — tiny boats carrying her would-be motherhood, her planned future, her domestic dreams. Watching them sink, Sarah realized something terrifying and liberating: she wasn't drowning at all. She was finally, painfully, swimming.
That night, she found an old photograph of herself from before Elias. She was laughing, hair wind-tangled, holding a teacup puppy that looked suspiciously like Max. The woman in the photo was complete. Whole.
Sarah called her sister. "I'm coming home for a while."
Max thumped his tail against the floor, and for the first time in days, Sarah's smile reached her eyes.