The water was a neon-blue, glowing in the almost darkness. It was not quite ten, empty and cool. The air raised goosebumps on her skin as she stood for a moment, staring into the swimming pool. They turned off the pool lights at nine.
She had worked late that night, keeping her fingers hammering at the keyboard until her eyes drooped. It was just busywork, but it meant she didn’t have to think. The she got in the car and drove like a zombie. She scanned her card through the automatic reader at the gym. It was open twenty-four hours, but staff was scarce this late.
She liked it that way. Didn’t want to make idle chit-chat with some chipper twenty-something over how nice the weather was that day. She didn’t even notice the weather anymore.
Yesterday, her boss had grinned and pointed out her soaking wet hair.
“Forgot your umbrella?” he asked.
“Mmmm.”
The noise was as noncommittal as she could get. As close to answer as she could give without forcing herself to form real words.
“We should pay you more, so you can afford one for next time.”
He smiled and invited her to join in the joke. She had to force herself to smile and nod.
The locker room was dark, but she hadn’t turned the lights on. She didn’t need to look in the mirror to see what was missing. She didn’t want to look at her own limp hair and empty eyes. Couldn’t bear to look at the hollow space in herself.
She leapt into the pool before the tears could come. No one was around to see the splash.
The cold was numbing for a few blissful moments before she started to swim. The water held her, cradling, filling in the empty spaces. She hung suspended for a few moments, drifting in silence, until she began to sink.
And then she began pumping her arms, kicking her legs; moving with purpose. The water carried her weight, lifting her up. The day had taken pieces of her. Every day left her with ragged edges, taking away chunks when grief and pain had already taken so much. But the water didn’t care. It held her anyway, soothing, softening the ragged edges until she almost felt whole.
Her legs kicked in long, solid strokes, propelling her forward. When she was in the water, at least she felt like she was moving. She wasn’t sure if she was moving toward something or just running away from something. She tried not to think about it. Actually, she tried not to think at all.
She swam until she was numb, doing laps until she could feel herself sweating, limbs burning red in the neon blue water. And then she swam a few more laps. And a few more. She dragged herself out of the pool when exhaustion set in, when she could no longer lift her arms or kick her legs. Sinking wasn’t an option. Not yet.
She showered quickly, cursorily washing her hair, letting the shampoo run down her body. It was clean enough. Dragging on a pair of shorts and a tank top, she left the almost empty gym and drove home.
No radio. Windows closed. It was surprising how loud the engine roared in the silence.
The car pulled into the driveway of a dark house. He didn’t wait up for her anymore. It was better that way. Better to return to a dark house than to sit for hours in a painful silence, too aware of what was missing, of what they couldn’t and wouldn’t say.
She climbed the stairs without turning on the light. She walked slowly and paused at the top. Her hand rested on the brass doorknob of the little room to the left. Their bedroom was at the end of the hall, but she couldn’t walk past without just touching this doorknob. She didn’t go inside anymore. Didn’t look at the pastel pink wallpaper with little white elephants on it, or the ornate, white wooden crib that sat empty in the corner. She had it all memorized anyway. She didn’t want to look anymore. Didn’t want to think about it anymore. But she couldn’t stop herself from pausing at the top of the stairs, from stroking that little brass knob, just for a second.
She took a deep breath and made her feet move forward. The bedroom door was open, and she crossed quietly into the bathroom, brushing her teeth in the light of the bathroom window, without flipping on the light switch.
He slept lightly these days. She didn’t want to wake him. Neither of them slept very much anymore.
She didn’t know that he wasn’t sleeping. He never slept, waiting for her to come home every night, smelling of chlorine. Their sheets smelled like it now, too. But he didn’t mind. He didn’t mind the smell, at least. He told himself it was ok. Told himself that it was better than the painful silences. He watched her shadowy form in the bathroom, listened as she washed her face and brushed her teeth, trying to take some comfort in the familiar routine. Maybe things weren’t really falling apart, not if they still did the little things.
He played that game with himself sometimes. If we still brush our teeth. If she makes me coffee in the morning. If she still lies down next to me at night. That was the big one. If he could still roll over in the middle of the night and see her sleeping next to him, he could believe that things would turn out all right. He tried not to think about the night when she might not come home.
So he watched as she brushed her teeth and waited for the moment she would come to bed. And he heard her gasp when she realized it.
She noticed the lack. She was so used to it, her wedding ring on her finger. It was a familiar weight. But now, nothing. No sparkle in the mirror. No heaviness on her hand. She looked at her hand, disbelieving, then cursed under her breath.
It must have come off in the pool.
She didn’t think twice before turning around, bolting back down the stairs and out the door. Tearing out of the driveway, she didn’t even notice as he got out of bed, pulled on a pair of sweat pants and sped down the stairs after her. She didn’t notice his car following hers.
He didn’t know where she was going, but he wasn’t prepared to let her go without a fight.
By the time he pulled into the parking lot, trailing a minute behind her little Camry, she had already run into the gym. Nobody stopped her as she swiped her card and ran to the pool.
She could see it. It sparkled against the stark, white bottom of the pool, glimmering blue through the chlorinated water. She wasn’t aware of the tears on her face. She just knew how much she missed that weight on her hand. She looked at the tiny circle of silver and stone resting on the bottom of the pool. She had lost enough parts of herself. She wouldn’t lose this one.
She dove in.
The water was colder than it had been just an hour ago. She felt chilled to the bone and shivered under the water. It was there, on the bottom but suddenly, the bottom looked farther than it had even been. She had swum in that pool hundreds of times. She swam every day. But now the water that had cradled her, had hidden the tears, held her back. Her arms and legs strained against the pressure of the water and she managed, slowly, to push herself to the bottom.
She scooped it up and held it in her hand. It shone in the blue-green light of the water as it had never done in sunlight. Such a little thing, she thought, sitting on the bottom. Such a tiny thing that means so much.
It meant that he would always be there for her. It meant he would always love her, that she would always love him. It meant that they would always take care of each other. Sitting on the bottom of that pool, she knew he had kept his promise, had kept on loving her, even when she was broken.
Maybe, she thought, as she watched the air bubbles rise from her lips, it would be better if she just stayed here. Her limbs felt like lead. Maybe he would find someone who wasn’t broken, someone who would help him fill in the pretty pink room with the elephant wallpaper, turn it from a blurry dream into something real and warm.
And she felt so cold.
She didn’t hear the splash when he dove in after her; only kept the ring clutched tightly in her hand as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her up with him. She hiccupped as the air hit her lungs, lying, sopping wet at the edge of the pool.
She didn’t realize that she was crying until he ran gentle fingers across her face, wiping away the tears. Carefully, he uncurled her fist and took the ring from her, sliding it back onto her finger, where it belonged.
“I love you,” he said, wrapping his arms tightly around her, feeling the breath as it filled her lungs.
And she let go, for the first time in a long time. She let him hold her tight.
She knew that he couldn’t keep her safe, couldn’t fix everything. But she also knew that she loved him. And he loved her, even though she was broken. And maybe, with his help, she could learn to be whole.
This might be the best thing you've ever written. It's really moving, and the pacing is just right.
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