What Water Remembers

Margaret stood at the edge of the apartment complex pool, chlorine stinging her nose. Three years since David left, and she still somehow ended up at places they used to go. The pool lights cast rippling shadows on the concrete like ghosts trying to communicate.

A black cat appeared from the hedgerow, its fur matted with something that looked like ash. Margaret felt her stomach tighten. David used to leave cigarette burns in the carpet, his hair falling everywhere like dark snow. She'd spent months vacuuming up evidence of him, only to find strands of herself falling out in clumps every morning. Stress, the doctor said. Her hair had thinned at the temples, revealing a vulnerability she'd never shown him.

The cat jumped onto the lounge chair beside her, staring with ancient yellow eyes. Margaret reached out, then stopped. She'd stopped reaching for things.

"You here for the memorial too?" A voice behind her. It was Stuart, the building manager, holding a net with something dark clumped in it.

"Memorial?"

"Old Mrs. Henderson. Third floor. Died Wednesday. She was fond of that cat." He nodded toward the black one, now cleaning itself with surgical precision. "Found hair in the pool filter again. Her hair, I mean. She used to swim laps every morning, even when the chemo took everything else."

Margaret looked at the water, suddenly understanding the shadows beneath the surface. "She died alone?"

"Cat was with her. Neighbor found them together." Stuart scooped something from the water—a clump of white hair floating like abandoned clouds.

Margaret touched her own thinning hair. "Did she suffer?"

"Don't know. But that cat never left her side. Not even when she couldn't feed it anymore." He walked away, the net dripping.

The black cat looked at Margaret, then back at the pool. Without thinking, Margaret slipped off her shoes. The water was shockingly cold against her ankles, then her waist, then her chest. She floated on her back, staring up at the night sky, and for the first time in three years, she didn't feel like she was drowning.

The cat sat on the edge, watching. Waiting. Margaret closed her eyes and let the water hold her weight.