Aquaphobia

I was never a man fascinated with water, simply the opposite. I was terrified I would drown, but when a handwritten letter arrived from my grandmother, whom I’d never met, inviting me on a cruise ship, I couldn’t really say no.

My mother had talked little about her. The only information I had received, was snippets here and there. She never resented her, but it seemed she wasn’t fond of her either. The day after mother’s funeral, it came through the front door. It was the most appropriate time, for her mother to write about the death of her daughter, it was just unexpected.

I couldn’t really say no. I couldn’t write back apologising that I couldn’t make it because my fear of water was so strong, I couldn’t even walk near a pool. I felt my hands shake as I took my biro and started to write back. I hated this situation with a passion, but I also desperately wanted answers.

Four weeks went by faster than I could have imagined. Early morning sunset, clasping at my luggage, ticket to my chest, while I looked out at the vast ocean beyond, wobbling. Grandmother had mentioned she would meet me on board, but as I stepped back as the large vessel came into dock, I wondered how close I was to her. Any one of these older women could have been her. I felt my jelly legs and tried to control myself, as I lifted my bags on board, with the water below me. The water bobbed from the weight of many bodies, crossing from land to boat. I was being clamped like metal in a factory. With my thin frame, I managed to skate through, eventually. I could breathe again to take in this luxurious cruise.

To say Grandmother was wealthy was an understatement. Although I knew I had walked onto a boat; I wouldn’t have a clue from my surroundings. Chandeliers sparkled from above, spiral staircases glistened. The marble flooring so spotless, my reflection stared back at me. I didn’t feel a small pat upon my shoulder at first. Being awe struck by the magnitude of this place.

“Sir.” A gruff voice from behind said, lightly coughing.

Spinning around, I saw what was in front of me. A large, tall man dressed formerly.

“I have been told to give you this key to your room. She will be with you shortly.” With that, he left.

I was to navigate this large ship and follow the signs. It was easier because everyone seemed to be forming a que towards the corridors, which seemed to lead to the sleeping quarters.

Busy, noisy, and bustling, children and adults alike, barging through with suitcases, staring at their key number. I glanced at mine. 407. Looking at the rooms as I walked past, all read 50 and lower. I sighed and kept on marching through.

As the corridors became quieter, the corridor width became larger. I could breathe again without feeling hemmed in. The corridors span for miles and miles before numbers that resembled ones in the 300’s appeared. 388, 390, 400. The 407 glittered. I turned the knob and inserted the key to reveal my room.

The blue horizon straight ahead greeted me first. A spacious balcony that looked out beyond. The thought of walking anywhere near there, filled me with dread. I started to take in the rest of the room, luxury, and elegance. The entire room sparkled. As big as my apartment, this room was plenty big enough. Three sofas were placed in a horseshoe, around a fancy, glass coffee table. Within the bedroom, a kings sized bed sat, underneath a hanging chandelier. Whoever Grandma was, I knew she was wealthy.

I hate waiting, for anything, but perhaps the worse feeling is waiting for someone to arrive, someone I knew little about. Sitting rigidly on one of the chaise lounge, after organising my clothes into the many wardrobe spaces available. I watched an ornate clock, above a marble fireplace, tick slowly. The chime of Westminster Quarters rang out. Exactly 5pm. As soon as the tune started to play, I heard a gentle knock at the door. I jumped out of my skin, rising to my feet, hesitantly I moved to the door and felt my fingers shake as I turned the handle.

To say there was nothing special about her was cruel, however this woman looked very normal, your typical old lady, a typical grandma type. She smiled a toothy grin, her skin flabby and wrinkled.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Adrian.”

She was the grandmother of all grandmas dressed in her fur coat, stockings and tied up grey hair.

“You as well…” I stumbled. “Want to come in?”

She nodded and stepped over the threshold, making no hesitation to place her handbag upon the cushion next to her. I watched, awkwardly, until I realised, I was just glaring, not knowing what to do with my arms, until I perched on one of the chairs.

“I was sorry to hear of your mother’s passing.” She casually said, as if a stranger had just died.

I nodded; my eyes felt as if they were looking everywhere except for Grandma.

She leaned forward, her hands on her lap and whispered. “There’s no need to be nervous around me. I can understand how uncomfortable this situation is, but whatever questions you may have for me I will answer as best as I can.”

I couldn’t just relax, especially now someone asked me to do it. Grandma sat upright, back rigid on the chair, her eyes gazing around the room. I watched her look at the now closed curtains, the darkness trapped within the room.

She turned back to face me. “Why don’t we have a little chat on the balcony, it may be better to get some fresh sea air.”

In mid standing, I stopped her, leaping up my hands blocking her.

“Well, I’ve closed them and…” I fumbled. “The thing is, I’m afraid of water... washing, bathing, they’re okay, but large bodies of water…” My eyes darted over to the window.

There was a silence, until she smiled. “There is no need to be sorry. It’s my fault, I should have written to you, asked to get to know you better.”

I was a jester mouse. Grandma had opened herself to me, bought me luxurious items, invited me to this cruise, and all I could say was that I feared water? Even so, she was being the most kind that any stranger could ever be. With her wrinkled hands, she dove into her handbag. Rusting and banging as she looked for whatever she was trying to find. Long and thin, a simple piece of cloth, a silk scarf embroidered. Grandma dangled it in front of her face.

“Here.”

She pushed it towards me, wanting me to take it.

“I don’t understand.” I said truthfully, running my fingers along the smooth silk fibres.

“Tie my scarf over your eyes. It’s a technique I know works on people with phobias.” She told me edging forward to help me tie the back.

“Oh... I don’t think I can” I stumbled, tripping over each word as I twisted it around and around in my hand.

“You never know unless you try and hear, it’s safe, small, there is nowhere to go.” For an old lady, Grandma seemed as though she was quite persuasive.

I nodded with gritted teeth. After all, I was here to meet and learn about Grandma, to learn more about mother and her childhood, to grant her this, was the least I could do.

Grandma beamed, leaping up like a schoolgirl. I pressed the scarf over my eyes which surprisingly blocked the light out. I let her tie a tiny knot on the back of my head. I was blind. I was in Grandma’s hands now, as she took hold of them with a tough grip, she dragged me forward. Stopping, I heard her pull the curtains back and slide open the glass door, even though everywhere was black, the light from the outside shone through.

“One step at a time, I don’t want you tripping up now.” She said jokingly, but I could feel every footstep I took, scarier than the next.

I leaned on the wall for stability, I felt the texture change and the sea breeze hit me in the face. My heart was a brass band. I could feel Grandma’s heavy breathing next to me. I felt her stand beside me and gently take my shaking hand, guiding me out.

“And there’s a chair right by you now, if you would like to sit, we can chat, keep your mind off things.”

As I was told, I sat myself down. Unable to see most of what was in front of me, apart from a few patches of light, I sat still, my arms clenched by my side.

“As I said before, ask me anything. There are no wrong questions.” She reiterated.

I took in a deep breath. The sea air was helping me to relax, I started to pull back the scarf from my eyes until she stopped me.

“You don’t need to remove it. Try and get used to the sounds while we talk.”

I was glad. The thought of removing the scarf from my eyes was filling me with dread.

“Mother grew up with you, what was she like?”

Even though she spoke no words, I could feel Grandma smile.

“Ah, yes. Well, what kind of mother was she to you? Did she speak of me often?”

“She took care of me, yes. Bathed, fed, and clothed me, but talk about you, not so much. I felt as if I didn’t really know her, a big part of her came from you and she spoke little of it.”

Grandma’s sigh was clear. She cleared her throat.

“That is a shame. Your mother could be trying at times, as every child can be. A very secretive little girl, with a big heart and imagination, however, I can understand how she could resent me.”

I paused jumbling up words in my mind.

“What was the reason you left?”

“Well…” She started to explain. “As she got older, we had big differences. We argued, disagreed. When the time came to make her own way in life, she had you, that was her mind settled.”

“I was the reason she left you?” All fear from the ocean beyond me had drifted off. I suddenly felt small, as if I was the problem.

“Of course, not young lad!” Grandma gasped, turning her body in the chair to face me. “Although, this could be the reason you are so afraid of water…”

I tilted my head and thought how stupid I must look with a silk scarf around my face, as I cocked my head from side to side like a dog.

“Don’t be afraid.” Her voice sounded different. More serious, lower in tone.

I waited.

I waited some more. Silence. The sea breeze blew into my face, pushing the scarf closer as if trying to strangle me. There were no sounds of squeezing chairs, no heavy breathing. Just waves and air.

“Grandma?” I called out. Nothing. “Grandma?” Again, nothing.

I had feared this to happen, but it had to be done. In one swift move I ripped the scarf from my eyes, carefully unscrunching them. At first, the sun blinded me. Today was an extremely warm day and it beat upon me. When my eyes adjusted to the intense light, I started to notice the blue of the swaying waves, which made me sway, catching myself on white plastic chairs. Grandma was nowhere to be seen.

If this what having a heart attack felt like, I was having one. My heart ripping outside my chest. The sea started to close in around me and there was nobody there for comfort. Every part of my mind was telling me not to look over the side of the boat, but somewhere hidden deep inside, I had to.

I flung my body forward, dangling off the side, where the breeze felt like I was flying. Open ocean for miles and miles, clouds floating on forever, until I peered down. At the bottom of the boat bobbing carefree, was a large Narwhal.

I stared harder. My phobia of water had subsided as I looked more closely. This was no ordinary sea creature; no ordinary creature would swim this close to a human vessel. I recognised that twinkle, although I’d only known her a few moments. How she managed to climb overboard at her age was a mystery.

“Want me to throw you down your handbag?” I called down.

The Narwhal just shook its blubbery head gesturing me to join her.

I took one last look at my room, the curtains swaying in the air. I closed my eyes tightly, held my breath and dove overboard as simple as that. As soon as the water contacted my skin, I started to transform. I had morphed into a leopard shark, slim, scaly, and agile.

I looked at Grandma and sighed. “What was mother?”

“A sting a ray.” She replied simply. “She was a beautiful sting a ray”.