If I make it to the edge, I don't know what I'll do. But I have to try. I say I won't fight, but there's still something in me that won't die, that doesn't quite want the outside world anymore, but doesn't want this. If I could stay here, right in the middle of this lake forever, weightless, with Sam watching over me while skipping stones, I would.
This time, when I break through the sheet of water, there is no one standing at the edge of the lake. There's just a tiny heap of pale yellow and blue—his t-shirt and jeans. My eyes race to the mild disturbance in the water. Small rhythmic splashes growing in size, coming in my direction. He's an incredibly fast swimmer. The predatory way he hardly breaks the water or rises for air informs me that I found his limit. I choke back the urge to beg for forgiveness or plead. Despite every primal instinct in my body commanding me to flee, I take a breath and swim towards the monster. This time, I don't glide through the cool water, instead my body feels as heavy as lead. No matter how hard I kick, it feels as though I'm barely making progress. Fear is real. It's not just an idea. It's heavy. Massive. Dense. It weighs me down, but I drag it and myself towards him. When he is a few feet away, I tread the water, and hope it will hide how I am trembling beneath it.
“Boo!” I giggle when he launches his head and shoulders out of the water.
Sheets of water glide down his face as he swipes his hair back from his eyes. He's panting, his eyes are focused and tense, the pupils two tiny black dots submerged in ice.
I don't feed the monster by reacting with fear. Apologies and pleas would be a confession. I was just teasing him. He wouldn't come out here, so I had to find a way to get him out here. Like playful lovers.
I splash at him, as if I could diffuse his anger like flames.
“You're a fast swimmer!” I shout over the crashing water.
It doesn't work. He grabs my forearms. The false smile melts off my face.
“I know what you were doing,” he growls. I never know when he'll speak, but I do know when he does, it's rarely good.
I try to yank my hands away, but his grip is immoveable.
“I was just trying to get you to come out here and loosen up a bit,” I pout. “What was I going to do? Swim out of here naked? And what? Go back home with your child inside of me?” I snap with indignation. “I don't have a life out there anymore. Don't you get that? You, this baby, this is all I have now. You know my mother has already written me off as dead. And Carter—I can't go back to him. Not after what we've done. We…we have something I didn't have with him.”
This is just a speech, I think as I recite the words. A way for him to let his guard down around me. But I never planned these words, they come from one of those hidden boxes that I sometimes hide, even from myself. As I say them, I know even I'm not sure where the lies and the truth diverge.
“You wanted me. You dreamed about me. You told me the night you came to my house. About fucking me. Having me. Well, here I am! But you won't talk to me. You won't tell me your damned name. One minute you treat me like your girlfriend, the next you threaten me. You're the only person stopping yourself from having what you want.”
This time when I snatch my hands away, he lets me go. I swim towards the shore, amazed that my little fit worked. This time I pace the swim back, exhausted from the sprint out and the wading. I don't look back, afraid to see his reaction behind me. As I near the edge, I stop where it's just deep enough for my shoulders to peek out of the water, listening to the carving of the water behind me. I don't want to leave the pond. It's been so long since I've been outside that despite the scene I put up, I am appreciative he brought me out here.
I don't look back for him. I'm still nervous. All this time with him and I still can't anticipate his reaction. It reminds me of playing jacks as a kid, the way the little jacks bounced unpredictably along the ground. Whenever I throw something at him, I have no idea how it might fall.
I close my eyes and take a soothing inhale as he nears me. He grabs my arm and turns me around to face him. There's still anger and mistrust in his face, but it's wrestling with a softness. One that might be sick of constantly questioning my intentions. But as he pulls me closer, the darkness takes over.
He kisses me hard, biting my lip so that it smarts like a wasp's sting. I whimper, pulling back, and then tasting the blood, I do the same to him. Our lips covered in the metallic crimson, we make a silent blood oath as I wrap my legs around him. He grabs my ass and stands up, streams of water plummeting from our entwined bodies as he walks me to the shore, lowering us into the bed of smooth rocks beneath us.