Breathless

By: Lori Titus
September 8, 2008

She emerged from the water breathless, a little dizzy.



The water seemed to be swirling forward, the beach stuck out like a shiny patch of yellow cloud before her. She made her way to the shore and sat, relieved to feel the sand beneath her. The world still felt as if it were tilting. Water and sand seemed to extend to the end of creation.



She closed her eyes and that steadied her a bit.



The house was only a few yards off, lights still lit. She had been out swimming long enough that daylight was beginning to fade. Or better put, she’d been out of the house that long. Whenever she and David fought, she always escaped to the beach.

He’d be waiting, she knew, with that look of anger on his face. How many times had he told her not to leave in the middle of a fight? It was childish, he’d said. Better to face it like an adult than run away, leaving things unfinished.

There it was, his complaining.



She drew closer to the house, attempting to shake off the chill that clawed into her flesh. The sea had blanched any trace of warmth from her body. She was without a cover up or towel, shivering in the evening breeze.



The sliding doors to the living room were open, so she walked through them rather than treading around to the front of the house. To her surprise there was a fire burning in the fireplace. She wrapped herself in a blanket laying on the edge of the couch and nearly purred in delight. She closed her eyes again, dosing, and came awake again when she heard the quiet hush of voices.



And not only voices, but footsteps and the quiet sound of ice circling a glass. Had David invited guests?

She sat very still, trying to hear what they were saying. It might as well been a foreign language.



Her first thought was that she should go out into the hall to see what was going on.

Then she remembered what she must look like. She was soaking wet, wearing nothing but a bikini and a blanket, hair sodden and dripping in dark corkscrew curls. If David had invited guests tonight, how would his wife look, walking through the house looking like that?



She sat back, becoming alarmed because it seemed that something was wrong with her hearing. The voices took on a kind of echo, the edges of their words seemed slurred.

Could she have hurt her ears while she swam? Oddly enough, she remembered no such distortion of sound out on the beach. She’d only noticed this once she entered the house.

David’s voice came into her range of hearing, and soon later she saw him in the hall, standing in front of the doorway of the dining room. He did not see her, and she did not move. From her vantage point on the couch she was probably hidden by the shadows of fast moving twilight.



He held a glass of liquor in his hands, probably rum. It was his ice she heard tinkling in the glass.

Another man spoke, but he was out of view. His voice was soft and somber, but she was able to pick up his words.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am to hear the news. How long did the …. Recovery take?”

David sighed, a sound as if it hurt him to breathe. He’d been crying. Her David, who never cried for anything?

“She washed up on the shore, yesterday morning. One whole night we all searched for her, and nothing. It was like she wouldn’t come back to us until she was ready. I loved her so much….”

Loved….. loved…. She whispered.

She stood then, but she felt her legs give way. Now, she remembered her struggle in the water, her legs cramping, choking, trying to breathe air and instead gulping water into her lungs.

David turned, frowning at his friend. “Did you hear that…?” he asked .



For a moment, David thought he heard a scream, something like his wife’s voice. But then it was gone, leaving nothing but the sound of the ocean.