THE SEA

She swam too far to remember who was watching.

Friday mornings all summer they climbed into the van and drove to the beach. The drive went through the deep valley where they hid behind the hills, slowly emerging as they drove on, reaching the ancient olive tree and taking a sharp right. The drive from that point was on unpaved roads, the sand and dust creating a mesmerizing cloud that forced them to roll up their windows despite the intense heat in the van—all of them exploding with anticipation of the water.

Once there, they unpacked, crawling over each other to get out. They laid out their picnic of brown bread and butter, young crispy summer cucumbers, tomatoes picked that morning, and hard-boiled eggs freshly gathered from the generosity of the hens.

She was always the last out, not in a hurry. While she loved the water and the sand, she hated the combination. The sand would warm her up and the sea would call to her in a way that scared her, paralyzing her on the blanket.

One day she could no longer resist. She stood up and walked toward the water. Her classmates, shocked, stopped their games and screaming as she approached—and were even more amazed when she started walking in. She kept walking. When the water became too deep, she began to swim. Slow, even strokes. She could hear her inhales in calming rhythm, aligning with the sound of the waves. She kept swimming.

She found herself strangely at peace, enjoying the silence. All thoughts left her mind, and a warm feeling of contentment fell over her. She kept swimming. It felt as if the sea had lifted her up and was carrying her to her destiny.

She started to miss the sand.

She stopped swimming and looked back—the shoreline was nowhere in sight. Her heart began to race. All at once, her arms and legs became limp. She hadn’t realized how sore she was. She needed a plan. The tide was coming in—what luck, she thought. She could just ride that back to shore.

She waited for the next wave, laid on her back and waited, ready for the easy, relaxing float back. She was looking forward to watching the clouds roll by, imagining how shocked her classmates would be to see her come in on the wave.

She didn’t move.

Realizing she was caught in a circular current, fear began to settle in. If she could fight her way out of the current, she might not have enough left to get back to shore. She rested for a few more minutes on her back, just exerting enough energy to stay afloat. Never having fought such a current before, she wasn’t sure she had the strength. She fought the thoughts that kept coming, asking if it was worth the struggle—knowing she could easily just stay there until she lost all power and would gradually sink to the bottom of the ocean.

She took a deep breath. Her mind went blank.

She was surprised at how quickly her muscles recovered, how ready they were to fight. She could feel the next wave entering the vortex. She started to kick and paddle harder than she ever had in her life.

She wasn’t moving.

She knew she was doomed.

She took a deep breath and prepared herself for the long journey to the bottom of the sea.

Just as she had started to accept her fate, an arm reached her and pulled her toward them. She had lost the ability to hold her body up—the strong arm carried her until she recalled being asked to hold herself up. She was embarrassed to have her classmates see her being carried back to safety.

Her swim angel never left her side. Once they reached the sand, she looked up to thank her friend—only to find no one was there to thank.