What the Palm Reader Didn't Say

The spinach leaf had been stuck in Marcus's teeth for twenty minutes. Elena watched it catch the light each time he laughed—this dry, rehearsed chuckle he'd been using since they arrived at the gallery opening. She wanted to reach across the white tablecloth and remove it, but her hands stayed folded in her lap, thumbs pressing into her palms until the skin turned white.

Three years of marriage, and still she couldn't decide if his obliviousness was genuine or a performance. Marcus was now describing their upcoming trip to Palm Springs to a circle of nodding strangers. His third margarita sat sweating on the table, abandoned mid-sentence as he gestured with both hands, painting their relationship in colors she didn't recognize.

"She's the structured one," he said, winking at her. "I'm just along for the ride."

Elena felt something tighten in her chest. Not jealousy—she'd given up on that months ago. It was the realization that Marcus had become a stranger who knew her coffee order, her sleeping patterns, the exact pressure she liked on her neck during sex. A fox who'd moved into the henhouse and learned to mimic the chickens.

Across the room, she caught the eye of the photographer whose work hung on the walls—young, intense, with knowing eyes that seemed to say: I see what's happening here. She looked away.

"Did I tell you about the palm reader in Venice Beach?" Marcus was saying now. "Told Elena she'd have two great loves in her lifetime. Guess we know how that's going so far."

The spinach caught the light again.

Elena thought about the unsigned divorce papers tucked in her glove compartment, the one secret Marcus hadn't ferreted out yet. She thought about the photographer's last series—images of women caught between leaving and staying, feet half-out of doorframes, hands on doorknobs.

She finally reached across the table. Marcus flinched as her finger grazed his lip.

"What—" he started.

"Spinach," she said quietly, placing the small green leaf on her napkin. "Since forever."

He laughed. "Oh. Thanks, babe. You always notice the things I miss."

Elena smiled, and this time it almost reached her eyes. Outside, a fox darted across the gallery's garden path, quick as a secret, gone before anyone could be certain it had been there at all.