Water Marks

The pool was dead still that morning, the water a perfect sheet of glass reflecting the gray Ohio sky. Elena sat on the edge, her legs dangling in the chill, cigarette smoke curling around her face like a second hair of silver.

"He's not coming back, is he?" Marcus said from the lounge chair behind her. He'd been watching her for twenty minutes, the same way he used to watch baseball games — patient, calculating, waiting for the pitch.

Elena stubbed out her cigarette. "Mike's got a tournament in Cincinnati. Three days of beer and sunburns and pretending he's still twenty."

"That's not what I meant."

She turned to face him. Marcus was older now, his hair gone salt-and-pepper at the temples, eyes still sharp behind thick glasses. He'd been Mike's best friend since Little League, had stood up at their wedding fifteen years ago. And now he was here, alone with her, while Mike was who-knew-where.

"No," she said. "He's not coming back. Not really. Not to anything that matters."

Marcus nodded, like she'd confirmed something he'd suspected for years. The silence stretched between them, heavy and thick. Elena's hair fell in her face — she hadn't cut it since before the miscarriage, hadn't done much of anything except wait for something to change.

"I remember," Marcus said softly, "when you two started dating. You came to his baseball games, sat in the stands with your hair all done up like you were going to prom. He couldn't concentrate worth a damn. Kept looking up at you instead of watching the plate."

Elena laughed, a dry, cracked sound. "That was a lifetime ago."

"Yeah," Marcus said. "But some things don't change much."

He stood up, walked to the pool's edge, and sat beside her. Their shoulders touched. Elena's heart hammered against her ribs like a runner rounding third, headed for home.

"The water's cold," she said.

"I know," Marcus replied. "But you can't stay on the edge forever."

She looked at him — really looked — and saw everything she'd been pretending not to see for years. The way he looked at her. The way he always had.

Elena stood up, pulled her hair back from her face, and dove into the deep end.