What We Leave Behind

The bull of a boss had cornered Elena in the conference room again, his face flushing that particular shade of crimson that meant someone would be working weekends. She nodded, made the appropriate noises, and wondered if he'd notice if she simply stopped showing up one day.

She wouldn't, of course. David had left her six months ago, and she'd already learned what happened when you simply stopped showing up.

After work, she drove to the community center. Swimming was the only thing that silenced the noise in her head — the water wrapping around her like a second skin, holding her up even when she was certain she would sink. Twenty laps. Thirty. The rhythmic pull of her arms, the controlled breathing, the way everything blurred and simplified.

Back in her apartment, she shook two pills from the vitamin bottle. The doctor had recommended them after she'd lost ten pounds from stress, her skin taking on that translucent quality of people who forget to eat. 'Self-care isn't selfish,' she'd said, as if Elena didn't already know how thoroughly she'd failed at it.

A scratching sound came from the balcony. Barnaby — David's cat, who had somehow become hers in the breakup division of assets. He scratched at the glass door to be let in, orange fur matted from exploring the neighbor's garden. When she opened the door, he wound around her legs, purring like a small engine.

She'd never wanted a cat. David had brought him home on a whim, some abandonment story from a coworker. Now Barnaby was the only living thing that depended on her, the only thing that noticed when she came home.

The vitamin bottle sat on the counter. She thought about the conversation she needed to have with her boss tomorrow, the one where she would explain that no amount of weekend work was worth what it was costing her. She thought about David, who'd told her she was drowning long before she'd admitted it to herself.

Barnaby jumped onto the counter and batted at the bottle. Elena picked him up, burying her face in his fur. Tomorrow she would set boundaries. Tomorrow she would call her mother. Tomorrow she would start feeling like herself again.

Tonight, she would feed the cat and sleep. The swimming could wait until morning.