What We Keep

The hotel pool was empty at 4 AM, which was exactly why Maya had chosen it. She slipped into the water fully clothed—silk pajamas and all—letting the chlorine soak through the expensive fabric Tom had bought her for their anniversary. Two weeks ago. Before the results came back.

"You're going to dissolve that vitamin D tablet if you stay in much longer," Tom said from the edge. He was sitting in one of the plastic lounge chairs, fully dressed, holding her phone like it might detonate.

"Good," Maya said. "Maybe I'll finally absorb something." She floated on her back, staring at the ceiling where a water stain spread like a bruise. "The doctor said my levels are practically non-existent anyway. Probably why I couldn't..." She couldn't finish the sentence. They both knew what she couldn't do.

Tom's jaw worked the way it did when he was trying not to cry. "We can try again. The fertility specialist said—"

"The specialist said we should consider other options. Meaning: I'm broken, and you should find someone who isn't."

"That's not what she meant."

"Isn't it?" Maya treaded water, watching him. The pool lights cast undulating shadows across his face. "You've already got the escape plan ready. I saw the email. 'Bear Mountain Logistics'—is that even a real company?"

Tom's face crumpled. "It's a startup. My friend from college is heading it. They need someone to run operations. I was going to tell you tonight."

"With or without me?"

"That's what I came to ask."

Silence stretched between them, filled only by the hum of the pool filter. They'd bought the house because of the backyard—big enough for the dog they swore they'd get 'someday.' Buster, they'd called him in their imaginary future. Golden retriever, gentle with kids. Now the backyard sat empty, and the guest room was still a guest room, and here they were in the middle of the night, fully clothed in a hotel pool because neither could sleep in the bed where they'd planned everything that wasn't happening anymore.

"What do you want, Tom?" Maya asked softly. "Not what you think you should want. What you actually want."

He looked at her for a long time. "I want you," he said finally. "Whatever that means. However that looks. I don't want a family with someone else. I want us."

"Even if us means something different than we planned?"

"Especially then," Tom said, standing up. "Now get out of the pool. You're going to be miserable in those wet pajamas, and we have a sunrise to catch."

Maya smiled, really smiled, for the first time in weeks. She swam to the edge where he waited, hand extended. "Bear Mountain Logistics better have good coffee," she said, taking his hand. "I'm not moving anywhere without decent caffeine."

"I'll make sure it's in the contract," Tom said, pulling her up.

The vitamin D tablet on the nightstand remained untouched. Some deficiencies, they both understood, couldn't be solved with supplements.