Waiting to Exhale

No, this is not about the movie...this is something completely different. So tonight I was at South Mission Beach waiting for some friends to show up so that we could play volleyball. Apparently the weather had scared everyone off and I was the only one there. But I took solace in knowing that there were far worst places I could've been on a Southern California afternoon than lying on a sandy beach, listening to the waves crash, and watching other groups play volleyball. So I pulled out my laptop and began to write. I wasn't sure what I wanted to write, but there was a prompt from Writer's Digest that I had been playing with in my head and I decided to write it. I know it's cheesy, but nonetheless the process was undeniably satisfying. Here's the prompt:

You and a friend break into your neighborhood swim club late one night to go for an after-hours dip. While splashing around in the pool, you go into shock when a dead body floats to the top. Worse yet—it's someone you know. Write this scene.

Waiting to Exhale

Claire fumbled for the latch, aided only by the light of the crescent moon keeping watch overhead.

“I’ve almost got it,” she said.

“Claire, let’s get out of here,” I said half-heartedly, knowing all too well that when she set her mind to something, nothing I could have said or done would’ve shaken her resolve.

“Got it, “she said as the gate swung open, smiling proudly to herself. “Let’s go.” We walked along the path that wrapped around the maintenance shed, the path towards the rear entrance, a path I knew all too well. Though a year had gone by, it seemed as if nothing had changed, as if that day last summer was just yesterday.

“Claire, how do think we’re going to get in the…”

Claire pushed the rear door abruptly, loosening the lock, and then pulled it open.
“Come on, you really didn’t think Brett fixed the door, did you?” She smiled smugly as she walked in, expecting me to follow her in.

I stood in the doorway for a brief moment. I had stayed away for so long. How did she convince me to come back here in the first place?

“Hurry up, D. Before anyone see’s you standing there.”

The water seemed so calm, so serene, as the moonlight shimmered through the clerestory windows and danced hypnotically across the surface of the pool. I stood at its edge, numb, wanting to be anywhere but there.

“It’s time,” Claire said, taking my hand.

“Time for what?” I asked, but before I could look up from the water to meet her eyes, she yanked her hand and pulled me into the pool. I barely had time to catch a breath before I plunged into the cold abyss. A shivering sensation overcame me as my body temperature dropped. My lungs began to burn. And yet, strangely, I felt at ease. I swung my arms in wide arcs and rose to the surface.

“Remember,” Claire said. “Remember. You were so good. You were the best lifeguard we ever had. It’s been too long D. It’s been too…” But I shut her out. And in that instant I felt anger flow through my veins. She had conned me into coming here. She pushed me in the pool. She was forcing me to remember. To remember something I had tried so hard to forget.

I turned and began to swim away from her, to the far edge of the pool. Then, just as I grabbed for the rail to pull myself up, something bobbed to the surface. I screamed in disbelief. I pushed myself back and slipped back under the surface of the water, my arms flailing to keep afloat.

“D, what is it? What’s wrong?” I could faintly hear Claire yelling. But I couldn’t see her. My eyes were fixed on the lifeless body that was floating face down in front of me.

It was Samantha Rose.

“No!” I screamed. It couldn’t be. This wasn’t happening, not again. But in an instant, those thoughts left me and were replaced with a resolve to action. I swam towards Samantha, then dove beneath her so that I could lift her out of the water. I grabbed the rail with one hand and threw both of us onto the deck.

“Please don’t die,” I whispered repeatedly as I methodically administered CPR. “Please don’t die.”

I refused to give up.

And then I heard a deep breath of air, followed by a cough as water spilled out of the side of her mouth. I couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Samantha,” I said. “Samantha, are you ok?” She opened her eyes, and strained to focus on my face. She slowly pushed her seven-year-old body up to face me and managed a smile.

“I’m okay Dylan,” she said. I sobbed as I embraced her, not wanting to let go.
“I’m so sorry Samantha….I’m so sorry….I tried…I really tried.” Tears were streaming down the side of my face.

“I know you did Dylan,” she said. “It’s ok. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault.”

I held her in my arms and rocked her.

“Are you ok?” Claire asked from behind, her hand resting on my shoulder.

I turned and looked at her, trying to wipe the tears from my eyes.

“I’m okay,” I replied. “I’m okay.” She looked confused.

“What’s going on, D? Who were you talking to?” she asked.

I cracked a smile for the first time in what seemed like a year and stood up to hug her.

“Just a little angel.”