What We Keep Under the Surface

Elena stood at the kitchen counter, chopping spinach with rhythmic precision. The knife's thud against the wooden board was the only sound in the lake house, apart from the distant lapping of water against the dock. Marcus was outside with the dog, a rescue named Bull who'd finally stopped trembling after three years.

"You're avoiding the conversation," Marcus said from the doorway. Bull pressed against his leg, the dog's massive head reaching Marcus's thigh.

"I'm making dinner." Elena didn't turn around. "Like I do every Tuesday. Like I've done for twelve years."

"The spinach won't burn if we talk about the therapy appointment."

She set down the knife. Green flecks scattered across the counter like something broken.

"Dr. Chen says we're both being bull-headed," she said, finally facing him. "That's her exact word. Bull-headed. Like your dog."

Bull let out a soft whine, sensing the tension that had lived in their home since January, since the miscarriage, since they'd become strangers who shared a bed.

"He's not bull-headed," Marcus said. "He's scared. There's a difference."

"So are you." Elena's voice cracked. "You won't go swimming anymore. You won't talk about what happened. You won't—"

"I can't just—" Marcus stopped himself. "You want me to dive into the lake like nothing changed? Like we didn't—"

"Like we didn't lose something?" Elena finished for him. "Marcus, we're drowning in this house. Both of us."

She looked out the window where the lake stretched dark and infinite. They'd bought this place for the swimming, for the summer evenings when they'd float on their backs watching stars, fingers entwined. Now the dock was rotting. Now Bull spent his days pacing the perimeter of what used to be joy.

Marcus came into the kitchen, Bull following. He reached for her hand, and his palm was warm against her cold fingers.

"Tomorrow," he said quietly. "I'll go swimming tomorrow. If you'll come with me."

"The spinach will keep," she said.

"No," Marcus said, pulling her toward the door. "It won't. Not forever."

They walked to the water's edge, Bull bounding ahead, and for the first time in eight months, Elena thought maybe they could learn to surface together.