What We Swallow

Margot shook the orange bottle, the vitamin supplements rattling like dice in a cup. 'Doctor says I'm deficient in everything. D, B12, iron. Apparently, grief depletes you.'

Elena watched her from the lounge chair, shielding her eyes against the Cancun sun. Above them, palm fronds rustled in the breeze, casting dancing shadows on the concrete. It had been Margot's idea to come here—some attempt to outrun the first anniversary of her divorce.

'You're not deficient,' Elena said. 'You're just... processing.'

'My body is literally shutting down, El.' Margot dry-swallowed three pills at once. 'Even my hair is falling out. It's stress, or maybe I'm just aging badly. I turn thirty-five next month.'

Elena wanted to tell her that thirty-five wasn't aging, that she'd said the same thing at twenty-five and would say it again at forty-five. But she'd been saying variations of this for years, and Margot never seemed to hear it.

They'd been friends since college, back when friendship felt automatic—late-night diners, shared clothes, boys who came and went. Now it felt like maintenance, like keeping a plant alive by watering it exactly on schedule. Elena still loved her, but sometimes she wondered if love was supposed to require this much effort.

'My palm itches,' Margot said suddenly, staring at her hand. 'Do you think that means something? Money coming? Or is it just dry skin?'

Elena almost laughed. In the old days, she would have made up something elaborate—'It means you'll meet someone,' or 'Change is coming.' Now she just said, 'Probably the sun. Put on sunscreen.'

'You're no fun anymore.' Margot's tone was light, but her eyes weren't smiling.

The words hung between them, heavier than they should have been. Because the truth was, Elena wasn't sure she was fun anymore. She was tired. Her job was exhausting, dating was exhausting, being a good friend was exhausting. Sometimes she lay awake at night wondering when exactly she'd started counting down the hours until she could legitimately go to bed.

'I'm going to the bar,' Elena said, standing up. 'Do you want anything?'

Margot shook another pill onto her palm. 'Just water. I need to hydrate before I take this. It's expensive as shit, apparently.'

Elena walked toward the pool bar, feeling the heat radiating off the pavement. Behind her, she could hear Margot's phone buzzing—probably work, probably something that could wait. She wondered if they'd still be doing this in ten years, coming on trips and taking supplements and waiting for something to change. Or if one day they'd just stop calling, and that would be that.

The bartender set a glass of ice water on the counter. 'For your friend?' he asked.

Elena looked back at Margot, small under the palm trees, shaking out more pills. 'Yeah,' she said. 'For my friend.'