Read Online The First Time She Drowned by Kerry Kletter - Free Book Online

diagonally across the ocean, I see the arch of waves in front of me, the brick buildings of Dunton College reemerging beyond that, and this new hope lifts me out of myself, shifts my perspective. I can hear birds and the lap of sea, the distant roll of breaking water. I find new energy to swim, which drains and pulses again and again. The distance is so much farther than it looks, and it is not until I feel the catch and the rise beneath me that I’m sure I am among the waves. One carries me, delivers me into a dump of white water where I am buried again, fighting to keep my chin above the whirlpool of froth. Another comes and I am drilled into the sand.
    The sand!
    I crawl and am knocked down, clawing my way to shore. Even in two feet, the current, so insistent, tries to suck me back.
    Finally, I am on the beach. Gasping and happy. I collapse and cough and throw up water. I consider what a colossal failure my little baptism was, though it is a thought uncharged with feeling, likely to be revisited when I have more strength to hate myself. Instead I am taken by such a blissful state of peace, unlike anything I’ve ever felt, that it seems rooted in something bigger than just my relief. It is a bone calm, a soul calm, as if the unnamable but constant rattle inside me has been silenced for a moment, given a source to express and extinguish itself. I think back to that saving voice in my head and I wonder how I can find her again—the me who is wise and unafraid, who believes I will be okay.
    Upwind, the sound of another human voice shatters my serenity. The rattle inside me stirs. I glance up. It’s one of the homeless guys now standing on the bench, a hand cupped to his mouth while the other waves the pack of cigarettes in the air like a rescue flag.
    “You okay, girlie?”
    I start to laugh, but it feels like crying so I stop. I raise my head, triggering more coughing. Eventually I manage a limp wave.
    “I’m fine,” I call back, though my voice has no sound.
    I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.
    Because just like all the other times I’ve drowned in my life, I’m determined to keep paddling forward, to believe that none of it has affected me at all.

eleven
    I SPEND THE next hour in a dirty gas station bathroom changing out of my clothes, blow-drying my wet hair with the hand dryer, reapplying my makeup—trying to make myself perfect so no one will be able to guess what’s underneath, see the girl who can’t stay afloat. I light a cigarette from the new pack I’ve just purchased and immediately start coughing again. I’ve been hacking almost nonstop since I left the beach, trying to eject something lodged deep in my chest. The moment my lungs settle down I check my reflection once more. No matter how many hours I spend in front of the mirror, I can never hold on to what I look like the second I turn away. I’m like a vampire’s opposite, existing only in the glass.
    I leave the gas station and walk toward the brick buildings of Dunton, dragging my suitcase behind me. The campus appears to be straight down the road. I can’t tell how far exactly, but I don’t mind the walk. I’m still adjusting to how strange it feels just to be able to move through the world without supervision, to light my own cigarettes, to know the wind on my skin won’t be taken away from me. Besides, I’m in no rush to get there. I’m scared shitless.
    Forty-five minutes later I am at the main entrance to the Dunton campus where a big sign hangs, welcoming incoming freshmen. I stop and look around, taking everything in. The sun has come out over buildings so large and old and Gothic that everyone looksmisplaced in time beside them. The ocean is present in the hang of salt in the air and in the coastal breeze that tosses the hair of both girls and trees. All around me, kids leap out of minivans and station wagons like they’ve just arrived at a party while their parents organize missions to unload their crap into the dorms. I stand