Drowned

I wake to the sound of small waves splashing against a wooden boat. I open my eyes, squinting in anticipation of sunlight, only to see clouds dimming the sky. I sit up and look around. I appear to be in the middle of a big lake, entirely enclosed by trees. I look for an oar so that I can row myself back to shore, but I can’t find one. My head feels foggy, and any movement is physically exhausting. The boat rocks rhythmically in the water, and the splashing seems to be getting louder and louder.

When Caleb, my son, would take his baths, he would splash around so much that you could hear his waves from another room. My wife would always come out of the bathroom completely drenched, holding a happy baby wrapped up in a towel.

I shake my head, trying not to think about it. I lean over the boat and splash my face with the cold water. The fog over my brain intensifies, and as I look at my surroundings again, the trees seem even thicker and more enclosing. I think about how to get home, but I suddenly realize I did not know the way. How did I get in the middle of this lake? Where am I even? I try thinking back to before I fell asleep, but can’t remember anything. I picture every lake I knew of, but none of them look like this one. I stop looking around and decide to think of the last thing I remember so that I can start from there and work to the present. But what is the last thing I remember? Everything I try to think of comes up blank, like trying to remember a word that is on the tip of your tongue but just won’t come. The only thing I can remember clearly is prying my son out of my wife’s arms, and leaving my wife in the bathtub, pinned down by old dumbbells under the overflowing water. I couldn’t think at all, at the time. All I knew was that my son was in my arms. Almost unconsciously, I left the room, closed the door, and went to go make my son a bottle. I waited several hours before calling the police. When they arrived, I told them that my wife had said she was going to take her evening bath. I said I had no idea she was trying to kill herself. The police said her behavior was most likely caused by postpartum depression.

I decide I need to go to shore, thinking that once I am on land I might be able to think more clearly. I paddle with my hands, leaning over the bow and making wide strokes, but I didn’t seem to go anywhere. My clothes soak through. After only a few minutes, I am exhausted and slump back into the stern, gasping for breath. My head seems foggier and foggier, and my headache has gotten worse, but after a moment, I sit up to continue paddling. To take my mind off of how tired I am I go through all the things I can remember. My name… What is my name? I shake my head and move on. My son's name, that’s easy enough… it’s…. I stop paddling abruptly, feeling like my blood just froze. The fog seems to feel physically heavy in my head. I rack my brain for anything I can remember. Things that I remembered just minutes ago. It is all blank.

My eyes clench shut, and I begin to cry. I can’t remember my… my… I open my eyes and see that the shore is closer. I am relieved and look back to see how much progress I have made from where I started. But the other side of the lake looks closer too. Everything around me looks closer, and the trees seem to be eclipsing the sky. I look closer at the treeline, and I can make out the shape of something, or someone, standing within the dark wall of trees. I squint my eyes to get a better look at this thing, but the harder I look, the more it blends in with the trees. I call out to it in the hopes that it is a person who can help me. There is no response. I begin paddling again. Despite being meters away from the land, I make no progress, like I am anchored to the unseeable bottom of the lake. I give up paddling and look around desperately for anyone, anything, that can help me. The faint hint of a figure I saw in the trees appears again, but it is clearer now. Well, not clearer, but I can tell that something is there. It is moving closer to me, but I still can’t make it out. Looking at it is like trying to focus on something in your peripheral vision. It isn’t blurry, I just can’t identify its shape, as if the problem is my vision itself. All I can tell is that it is big and moves in an animal-like way--but no animal I’ve ever seen before. Breaking from the treeline, it reaches the edge of the water, and I seem to be drifting toward the shore. I begin paddling again, but this time the other way, again to no avail. I look back at the creature, and it is now in the water. I have tunnel vision, and it is like looking through a tube that won’t hold still. I yell at it to stay back. It continues moving towards me. I try to think of what you are supposed to do to scare animals off, but I can’t remember anything. I scream and splash water at it, uselessly. The closer the creature gets, the more everything around me starts to dim, and when I look down at my hands, I can barely see their outline. I know the creature has already reached me because I feel a wave of water push against the boat, and I can see a very faint shadow above me. I wait for something, anything, to happen, as my vision grows darker.

I wait several minutes, but nothing happens. My vision is completely gone, and I eventually convince myself that the creature is not going to hurt me. I again attempt to remember something about myself. All I can get a grasp on is an unhappy feeling. Why am I unhappy? Or, rather, why was I unhappy? I am happy now, given that I know of nothing that could make me feel otherwise. Everything is still and quiet. There is only the sound of water lapping against the boat. I can’t remember why I am sitting here. All I know is what I can feel and hear at this moment.

I notice that I can’t see, and no matter what I do, I can’t seem to open my eyes. I reach up to my face to feel why my eyes are stuck shut, but my fingers touch my bare eyes. I reach around me, trying to feel for anything, maybe an oar so that I can paddle to wherever the shore is. I bump something with my hand, something hard and warm. Suddenly my vision returns. Before I get a good look at… something next to me, this formless thing pushes me into the water. It holds on to me, and I feel something sharp digging into my sides. I slam against the lake floor. My eyes burn from the lake water and I struggle to get away, but this creature is too strong. My body grows weak as I lose more oxygen, and I lose the will to fight. Instead, I focus my energy on trying to see what this creature is, but I can't see through the murky water. My chest feels like it's going to explode, and everything seems to get darker and darker. I can no longer hold my breath, and I involuntarily gasp for air, my lungs filling with water.

***

I wake to the sound of small waves splashing against a wooden boat. I open my eyes, squinting in anticipation of sunlight, only to see clouds dimming the sky. I sit up and look around. I appear to be in the middle of a big lake, entirely enclosed by trees…