Left Drowning

I can’t speak. There is no way to begin.

“Sabin is all right,” he says. “He’s going to rehab. The hospital staff is very nice here, and they’re helping us find a good place. He’d like for you to call him later.”

I nod. “Of course. I’m relieved he’s okay.”

Chris fiddles with his watch so that he doesn’t have to look at me. “We’re going to pack up today. Probably leave tomorrow.”

“No,” I say clearly. “No you’re not. You are not ending things between us. You are not ending us.”

“I need to. I can’t do this with you. It’s too much.” He stands.

“You’ve said that before, but I’m not going to accept it this time. You don’t know what you’re saying, and you’re not being fair to me.”

“Look, the things you think you love about me? You shouldn’t. Not really. My … past. It’s part of me; it affects everything that I do in the most fucked up way. You think that I’m strong; you love that I take care of you. But I’m only like that because of what happened. I was forced to become bulletproof and competent because I faced complete insanity. That competence and diligence that you get off on is tainted. Jesus, even in bed. You like how I am with you. I’m … controlling. I’m in charge a lot. You even said it to me, that I don’t like to be out of control. See? How am I supposed to be who you want when you know why I am the way I am? It’s not real strength.” His voice shakes. “Every part of me is affected. It’s why I left you in the first place, why I ran to someone safe. Because you can’t possibly deal with what a fucking disaster I’m bound to be. You know all that. So you should know that I’m not good for you or for anyone. I have done everything wrong so far. Everything. I’ll end up destroying you the way I’ve destroyed everything and everyone. The only smart thing that I can do now is to leave.”

“Stop it. Just stop it!” I’m angry now. “Don’t you ever talk about yourself like that, and you don’t you dare presume to tell me why I love you. Give me more fucking credit than that. You got yourself, and your brothers and sister through the unimaginable. And you got me through my own nightmare. I love you for so many reasons, but I don’t love you because of those reasons. I love you simply because I do. And that’s it. That’s the only goddamn thing that matters. I love every single part of you. So, no, Christopher, no. We are not over. And I can prove to you why.” I stand up, using the bed for support. I am shaky, but I am also clearheaded. “I want to show you something. I need you to trust me. Can you do that? Just for a minute.”

Chris looks so tremendously sad, but he nods.

“I’m going to fix this. I’m going to make this okay.” I don’t know if I’m talking more to him or to myself, but I am trying hard to believe in what I am going to show him and tell him.

I stand him with his back to my dresser. “Just stay there. Don’t move.” I take the lightweight full-length mirror from the other side of the room and lean it against the bed so that it reflects into the mirror across from it. I stand in front of him and take his face in my hands. I lift up and kiss him softly. He doesn’t kiss me back because, I’m guessing, he feels broken and unworthy of anything even close to love. I can’t stand that. As I lift the bottom hem of his shirt up, he tries to stop me, but I brush him away. “Trust me.” Chris lets me raise his shirt. I move my left arm under his right and set my forearm on his back, angled up to meet the other hand that goes over his shoulder. “Look in the mirror.” I hold him tightly, close my eyes and wait. “It’s okay.”

In a few seconds, I feel him tense. His panic sets in. I know how this feels from him because of the many nights that he has awoken me with his nightmares. It was disconcerting for me when I saw this, but for him it is terrifying because it defies how he makes sense of the world. There is no logic or explanation to this and I know that he’s scared.

“Breathe with me, Chris. Breathe.” I inhale and exhale. It’s simple. This is how you do it. In and out. Breathe.

“Blythe, how can … No. This can’t be real.”

“But it is. This is real. We are real.”

There is disbelief in his words that I know all too well. “We’re like … puzzle pieces that fit together.”

“Yes. Exactly. I first saw this when we were at the hotel. I didn’t want to tell you then because I didn’t understand it. But I do now.” I step out of the way as Chris reaches for his shirt and pulls it quickly over his head.

“How could you possibly understand this? It’s just some weird … coincidence. It doesn’t mean anything. It can’t.”

“It does. It means everything.” I reach behind him and take something from the dresser. I hold up the torn remnants of my red shirt up and rest it again my chest.

“Why do you have that?” He is momentarily angry. “I don’t want you touching that.”

I step out of his reach. “I know. Because this shirt means something to you, doesn’t it?”

He pauses. “Yes. It does. Put it down.”

“You don’t see it yet. Think, Chris. Remember. Do you remember me?”

His face drains of color, and he starts to shake his head.

“This is my shirt. This is my Matthews shirt.”

“No, Blythe. It’s not. It belonged to … someone else.”

“No. I remember that day now,” I say gently. “You were the boy on the beach. With the buckets. And I was the girl on the dock. I gave you this.”

“No. No, there’s some kind of mistake.”

I drop the shirt. There is fear in his eyes that I have to get rid of somehow. “I know that this is a lot, but you have to listen to me. Just listen. I saw you, I talked to you. I am the girl who gave you the shirt and water.”

He is near tears. “What?”

“You know this. Some part of you remembers. It’s why you gave me a piece of my shirt back with my Christmas present. I didn’t find it until today. Until it was time.”

He sits on the bed. I give him a few minutes to let the memories take over. I’ve had the entire drive home and time in my room, and I still can’t process this. He’s in the thick of it.

He looks to my dresser, at the sea urchin. “I must have known. It’s why I gave you that. That day on the shore, when my father made me stay out and fill bucket after bucket with water and I thought I would collapse. The day you were there, with me, I found a sea urchin in one of the buckets—”

“And you stopped what he was making you do, and you gently set it back into the water.”

“Yes. I did.”

“There’s more, Chris.”

He looks at me and waits.

“That night? Later that night was the fire. And also later that night, your father tried to drown you.”

“The same night?”

“Yes. The same night. Our worlds exploded on the same night. Your father almost killed you, but he didn’t. Tell me why again.”

“What? Because … because his fucking pager went off.” Chris puts his hands in his hair. Then he freezes. “No way, Blythe. Don’t say it. That is not possible.” He is starting to piece it together.

“It is possible. Your father was a volunteer firefighter, wasn’t he? His pager went off because of the fire at my house. He is the man who saved my life.”

“Oh Jesus, no.” Chris walks to the window and keeps his back to me. “Stop this, Blythe. Stop it. This ca

“There are reasons that we have never talked about certain parts of our life. Neither of us mentioned Maine, and you never told me what your father’s volunteer work was … Some part of us sensed this. But we weren’t ready. We’re ready now. We’re strong enough.”

“It’s too much.”

“I saw him today. Your father. Zach and I went to see him. Don’t worry, he didn’t see us. When I saw him, it took me back to the night of the fire. I know your father, Christopher. He is the person who pulled me off the ladder.”

I let silence take over for a while. Chris has to figure out how to accept this. If he can.