Beneath the Water
That’s the sharpest point.
Of the memory.
That and the burn.
Of my nose and throat as the water rushed in.
I was always cautious in the water.
Cautious in every respect, really.
I knew my limitations and acted accordingly.
I held on.
To the side of the pool.
I knew my limitations.
She did not. In she plunged. And flailed. And gasped. And caught hold of me. My ankle. My thighs. My waist.
Up she climbed.
My shoulders, her rungs, as she hoisted herself up.
Over my head. Onto the platform. And away.
As I burned, nose and throat.
As I gasped, my breath caught.
As I flailed, unable to reach the bottom.
As I plunged, afraid beneath the water.