Weight of What's Unsaid

The last time Marcie had read his palm, she'd laughed at his lifeline—said it was short, which meant either he'd die young or live recklessly. He'd chosen reckless. Ten years later, here they were: Cabo San Lucas, anniversary trip, margaritas sweating onto glass table tops like the condensation on their marriage.

"Your phone," she said, not looking up from her menu. The iPhone lit up again, third time in ten minutes. Work, presumably. Or something else.

"I'll silence it."

"You won't."

She was right. He watched the screen dim, the notification still tucked beneath that curved glass, bearing the weight of whatever it contained. Secrets had their own gravity now.

"Remember the palm reader in New Orleans?" she asked suddenly. "College spring break."

"Vaguely."

"She said I'd marry someone who'd break my heart twice."

The waiter brought fresh drinks. Beyond him, the Pacific stretched gray and endless.

"You going to tell me, or am I supposed to keep pretending I don't know?" Her voice stayed calm, which was worse than shouting. "I saw the texts, David. Last week. You left your iPhone on the charger. I wasn't snooping—it just woke up."

The air between them grew heavy, salt-scented and suffocating. Palm fronds rattled overhead like dry laughter.

"It's not what you think—"

"It never is."

"I'm not leaving you."

"No," she said, finally meeting his eyes. "You're just bearing one weight in public and another in private. That's the problem. I don't know which version of you is real anymore."

The iPhone buzzed again. This time he turned it over, face down on the table.

"The palm reader was wrong about one thing," she continued. "She said I'd leave you the second time. But I'm still here."

"Marcie—"

"I need to know if you're going to tell me, or if this is the life we're living now. Half-truths and full drinks and you, deciding what I get to bear."

David opened his mouth, closed it. Behind them, the resort band began playing something that wanted desperately to be romantic.

"Your turn," she said. "Read my palm. Tell me what happens next."