Read Online Drowning in You by Rebecca Berto - Free Book Online Page A

then blindly splashing to the lane rope and out.
    I hop out, too. The clock now
reads three minutes past midday and the balding, middle-aged
teacher for the next shift also looks three minutes past happy. As
usual, I smile anyway but he ignores me—no shock—and demands his
kids jump in and do two laps.
    In the change rooms, two of the
mothers of my kids are ruffing up the shivering, little ones with
towels. My kids rave about how they can tread water and do
freestyle and I commend them each time they repeat it in that
high-pitched voice that keeps them happy.
    As I sweep my hair in a bun
before leaving the change rooms, a mother, Joan, taps my shoulder.
She flicks her head to the corner and we duck away for a
moment.
    “ Did I tell
you she almost drowned when she was four?”
    Automatically, I look at my kid
and imagine her flailing for the surface of the water, breathing
water in her panic, all that whiteness above the surface, sinking,
slowly dying before her mom pulled her out.
    “ Never forget,
Joan,” I say. “I’ve had my eye on her every second, during every
thought when I plan my classes, and every time she lets go of my
arm.”
    Joan turns and nods, hiding her
face perhaps out of embarrassment. It’s not the first time we’ve
had this chat. “Miss Charlee, you have given my daughter back her
happiness. I thank you, truly.”
    “ I really
don’t think I did.”
    Joan thrusts a stern finger
inches from my face. “Now you may not believe me, but sometimes you
have to see all your hard work from the outside to notice the
difference you’ve made, how you’ve given her life back. Your little
difference to my daughter and I is a life-changing gift. Think
about that.”
    Her face is flushed, inches
from mine. I hate to stress her further, and I don’t know why she
continuously does this, but I thank her until she’s out of earshot
and I’m saying “thank you” to another random kid.
    Darcy pops up in my mind for
some reason. It somehow makes me laugh. I stumble out of the change
room, get in my car, and drive. I only stop laughing when my tummy
hurts too much to sit straight in the driver’s seat.
    And tears. The moment there’s
silence, I miss my voice and how cheery the sound was, but the
tears are immediate, as if they were waiting for my laughter to
stop. By the time I pull up at my house, I can’t make out where my
driveway starts and ends everything’s so blurry.
    Darcy. Darcy .
    I can teach a girl to swim
unaided after she’s almost drowned, but I don’t know how to do this
“being mom to my little brother” thing. I don’t want to.
    Mom? Ugh, Mom! “Mom!” I call.
But white noise deafens the car. I drop my head against the
steering wheel and it honks, jolting me back up.
    “ That’s it.
Dad? Mom? You should be picking up Darcy from school in,” and I
look to my radio, “in three hours. You hear me?” I grab my swimming
bag, slam the door, and crank my neck back so the bright sky makes
me see silverfish for a moment. “You better come back and pick up
your son.”
    I’m too young to be a parent;
my soul too old to be a parent.
    Mom
should not be
gone. Dad can’t die.
    I want to be a
kid, is what I message Rosa.
    Oookay, cool,
but um, how’s it going? she
replies.
    Go to sleep. You’re meant to be
sleeping at—what?—5.30 am!
    I throw my bag in the closest
room and drag my feet to the kitchen, flip on the kettle.
    I will never sleep so long as
I’m surrounded by hot guys, white beaches and all-night parties
filled with lots of tequila. Anyway, what did you find out about
Dexter?
    I stare at his
name. Dexter. I pull out a mug, dump a spoonful of instant coffee
in it. Think. Add a lump of sugar. Dexter . My fingers lose feeling after
holding the milk for some time. Why did he plan this? Why would he
kill a little boy’s mom? Why would he make me wanting him so
wrong? Dexter.
    You didn’t.
You did not!! Rosa says.
    It’s five minutes later. Five
minutes of holding the milk