Something in the Water

There's somethings that grabs at my feet in the lake. I don't care if it's a plant or a creature with long claws and gills, it's just nice to feel wanted sometimes.

My gown tangles and ties my legs until I rely solely on the strength of my arms to keep me afloat. It is not enough. The teasing grip on my ankles pulls me down with an easy tug, and lets me struggle to the surface again. My head breaks the tension and my hair plasters to my face. I can continue fighting the weight in the lake weed, or I can clear my vision and look for the shore. I have a moment now, where I can scream.

I merely gulp for air until I feel myself pulled underwater again. There's no one around to hear my cries anyway. The few cottages around the lake have fallen into a sad state of neglect. My arms thrash, throwing bubbles around me, but it makes no difference. Not to the fingers that graze the arch of my foot before letting me rise again. When sweet air kisses my lips, my laughter rings out around the valley. I have never been able to open my eyes underwater, never been semi-aquatic, never been in my element while swimming. I dive underwater and tread in place. I can feel the water displace around me. Tough, rubbery fingers gingerly stroke my collarbone and trail down the length of my legs. My lungs ache, and finally I swim to the surface, gasping for breath. The water around me is still but for the rings produced by my arms treading. I can’t see anything below me. I would wonder if it’s all in my head if it weren’t for the tingling across my skin where I have been curiously examined. A bubbling glee rises in my chest from the dance we're playing at. I laugh, loudly, throwing my head back, and take a breath before plunging back under.

There is a mutual understanding here, I hope, that I will not look, and it will not drown me. There is a hum through the water like a trilling whale song, and the fingers return to my flesh, pressing the skin between my fingers, the smooth flesh of my throat. I startle when they press at my breasts. The creature retreats, the water displacing in it’s wake. It doesn’t go far. The hum returns, and I assure myself that the creature is merely curious. It doesn’t know what I am, it doesn’t know what parts of me it isn’t meant to touch. I surface, and feel some force help untangle my legs from the gown that clings to my skin in the air and billows about me in the water. When I dive back under, it takes my hand and places it against what I must assume is it’s own chest. It is flat, and rubbery, though not slimy. There aren’t any nipples, and I pull at my gown to reveal mine. The creatures hands are gentler this time, tracing my areola and the circumference of the fat of my breast. I fight the ache in my lungs as long as I can. I don’t know when the creature will retreat for good, and I would miss it's company. I hope it understands now that I need to breathe. The air is warm on my face and I raise my head towards the sky. I haven’t yet wiped the water from my eyes when I feel sinewy arms wrap around my waist. My eyes are squeezed tight as I laugh. 

“My arms are getting tired, I have to go!” I say, though I know it won’t understand my words. I wipe my eyes dry and start to swim to shore. It is torture to keep myself from looking into the water. The creature doesn’t want me to leave, I know. I can hear it’s song, and feel it’s webbed fingers trail at my legs and feet as it effortlessly keeps up with me. My hands make contact with sand, and I close my eyes as I feel it’s hand wrap stubbornly around my ankle. If I just turned around, I’d be able to see it. It’s too shallow here for it to hide. It doesn’t pull at me, but it doesn’t let me go further either. Some voice at the back of my head tells me to kick out. My life could depend on getting away from it’s grip. I’m close enough to dry land now, I could make a break for it. If I could break it’s hold, and dig my hands into the sand to claw my way to land, it wouldn’t be able to pull me back. 

“I’ll be back. I don’t belong in the water, but I’ll come back.” I say, my eyes squeezed tightly closed. I flip over to sit in the sand and place my hand over theirs on my ankle. If I opened my eyes, I could see it’s face. I can't tell if it's out of fear or respect that I don't. Slowly, ever so slowly, it’s hand slides out from between my palm and my ankle. I can’t pinpoint the moment it lets me go, and I sit there in the sand for a long while after it leaves. Finally, I open my eyes to the still lake. The midday sun burns my eyes but warms my skin. My white gown clings to me indecently. Torn lake weed weaves between my toes. Birds sing in the branches above me, and I imagine they are laughing, or maybe apologizing for failing to warn me. My hands are pruned. For anyone that may happen to see me, I have just gone for a spontaneous swim in my dressing gown. The birds chirp and hop around in the trees. The water is still.

It was as if I’d never met anything in the water.