To the kids in life jackets who wanted the bottom of the ocean. Enjoy.
Her eyes hovered over his wide chest for a moment, trying to
evaluate the size, reimagining comfort. ‘Was
this the same chest that held her when she cried last night?’ she thought.
As if on cue, he took her clenched fist and kissed it –
gently, as if he were holding an infant. As if he actually did love her. She lowered
her gaze, warm blood spreading across her face, until she felt a sting from her
nose, going up to her eyes. She blinked back hot tears.
“I’m always here, you know,” he whispered, sweeping her hair
away from her cheeks.
“I know.”
But she knew she didn’t. At least her head failed to
understand.
“Remember when we were kids and we wanted to dive deeper
into the reef but we were wearing stupid, orange life vests? No matter how much
we kicked the water, it always pushed us back to the surface.”
He was silent.
“Sometimes I feel like the things that keep us from the
things we think we truly want are the things that are keeping us alive.”
She saw him picking invisible lint from her hair, twisting
the strands between his fingers; only the rhythm of their heavy breathing hung
on the air like a gray cloud about to pour.
“Let’s take the life jacket off,” he finally said, his wild,
brown eyes bore into hers.
“John – “
“I mean, just this once, Claire. I’m sure the water’s going
to pull us back anyway.” A tentative pause like he wasn’t sure he was allowed
to say some more. “Stay with me.”
She smiled, her head bobbing to the side in an attempt to
capture the childlike expression on his face. And as she closed her hands
around his, she also thought of the waves closing over their heads, water
filling their lungs.
While her head racked itself for words, nothing came out from
her throat but a gagged whisper she wasn’t sure was loud enough for him to
hear.
“But I can’t swim.”