“Yes, my name is Jason Kingsley. I think my wife is in the water near our home. I need someone to come now. Our address is—” But my words were lost as I looked out into the yard at Del standing with her back to me upon the grass. I dropped the phone and ran back to the yard, unwilling to let the relief rush in that longed to snuff out my terror.
“Del!” I yelled when I was a few steps from her, but she remained motionless. She wore a simple skirt that came down below her knees and above it a long-sleeved blouse. Both were plastered to her skin and I could see the outlines of her dark underwear and bra beneath them. “Del,” I said, coming even with her. I put a hand on her shoulder and looked into her face.
My breath snagged in my lungs.
Her eyes were black.
They were like two pools of used oil that reflected nothing. Her mouth hung open, her jaw limp. A bit of seaweed trailed from her lower lip. I drew a breath in, sure I was going to scream, when she looked at me, and her eyes were gray again. The blackness had gone from them in a flitting second that already didn’t seem real. It was her, my Del, standing before me in wet clothes, her hair drenched down her back like a cascade of gold.
“Jason?” she asked. Her voice was hollow and far away, as if she were speaking to me from the bottom of a well. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes and she reached for me.
I embraced her and brought her inside, leading her to the bathroom where I started hot water running. I drew her clothes from her and helped her into the bathtub as it filled. She shivered, bringing her knees to her chest as she stared at the wall.
“Honey, what were you doing?” I asked, pouring cupfuls of warm water over her back and shoulders.
“I don’t know.” Still the void in her voice, an emptiness that made me shudder. “I don’t remember.”
“What do you mean you don’t remember? You were in the water. What were you doing?”
She turned her face to me, her lips trembling as she shook her head. “I don’t know.”
I continued to pour water over her until the bath was full. By that time the beginnings of sirens were coming from Route 1, and I hesitantly left her huddled in the bath while I went to our drive and met the first responders, throwing a jacket on as I went. The emergency personnel were all understanding, their nods and smiles that of those who have seen terrible things and who were relieved to not be witnesses of another tragedy. Several offered to come inside and take a look at Del, but I declined knowing that she would be uncomfortable with more people in the house while she was vulnerable. I thanked them and said that I would bring Del in to the hospital if there seemed to be anything seriously wrong with her. As the last vehicle pulled out of our drive, I returned to the bathroom and found the tub empty.
“Del!”
“I’m upstairs,” she called down, and I hurried up the treads, unsure of what I would find. She lay beneath several blankets on the bed, her hair still wet and fanned out on her pillow. She looked at me, only her face visible above the quilt. She was so childlike that for a moment I imagined we were only kids playing a game that had gone wrong. We were married, had a house, student loans, groceries to pay for, electric bills, a car payment due next week on a vehicle that probably wouldn’t last into the next year, and here we were, reduced to exchanging terrified stares over something neither of us understood or knew how to deal with.
“Where did you go?” I asked quietly. The air in our little bedroom was cloistered and my voice didn’t carry the way it should have. She shook her head, her hair making a rasping sound against the pillow. “I saw you in the water. I saw you go under, Del.” She seemed to consider this, her brow pulling down as she blinked.
“I remember coming home and putting my stuff on the table. And then I turned to the fridge, but…” Her words trailed off and she frowned.
“What is it?”
The shake of her head again. “I don’t know. There’s a hole there. It’s all dark.”