Waking Up Drowned

Maya stood under the shower, hot water drumming against her spine, watching her hair swirl into the drain—strands of midnight black turning to silver at the roots. At forty-three, she'd stopped pretending the gray was anything but what it was: evidence of a life lived at half-volume.

She'd become a zombie somewhere around year seven of her marriage to David. Not the walking dead kind—the subtle kind that shows up to dinner parties, laughs at the right moments, and goes through motions so rehearsed they feel like muscle memory. David still loved her, she thought. Or he loved the version of her that didn't ask questions.

The bathroom mirror fogged over. She wiped it with her palm, staring at her reflection. When had she last wanted something?

"Maya?" David's voice through the door. "You okay in there? You've been in a while."

She turned off the water. Stepped out. Wrapped herself in a towel.

"I'm fine," she said, and the automatic response made her chest tighten.

He was sitting on the bed when she opened the door, tie loose, shirt unbuttoned—David, who had held her while she cried over her father's death, who knew she took her coffee with two sugars, who hadn't really looked at her in three years.

"Your hair's wet," he said.

"Yes."

"You should dry it. You'll catch cold."

She stood there, water dripping down her neck, and realized she was waiting for him to ask what was wrong. But he just picked up his phone, scrolled through emails, the blue light washing over his face.

"David."

"Hmm?" He didn't look up.

"I think I'm leaving."

His fingers froze on the screen. "What?"

"Not forever. Just—for a while. I need to figure out who I am when I'm not being your wife."

He set down the phone. Finally, he looked at her—really looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time in years. The zombie in her stirred, heartbeat kicking up.

"Is there someone else?"

"No. There's just—me. And I need to meet her."

Maya walked to the window. Outside, rain streaked the glass, water running like tears on a face that couldn't cry anymore. Behind her, David stood up. For the first time in a long time, neither of them knew what would happen next. And that, she realized, was exactly the point.