Distant Shore

Hannah hadn’t always feared the water. It started slow as most things do; a queasy feeling in the bath or the polite decline to a pool party invite along with her mother’s handwritten apology. Gradually it evolved until the phobia forced her to shower with her eyes closed and the door open. The dread manifested itself the same way each time. A tightening in her chest that evoked the sensation of filling up and a splitting headache like a knife being twisted into her temple that preceded it. Her mother had attempted to assuage her fear, address the source and prevent Hanna from a life of crippling anxiety, but she had refused her swim lessons, instead choosing to sit by the edge of the pool, rubbing her temple.

By the age of twenty-five it had gotten to such a ridiculous point that even the mere mention of water caused Hannah’s body to throw itself into a state of panic. By the time she met her husband Rick, an avid sailor with a mass of sun-bleached curls, deep blue eyes and a constellation of freckles across his nose, she had resigned herself to the fact that she was simply a creature of the land.

This fact did not deter Rick, who took it upon himself to periodically suggest excursions on his boat, for Hannah’s benefit, of course. When Rick’s latest attempt was brought up, it had startled Hannah despite its predecessors’ lingering memories. “You should join me on the water next weekend,” Rick said. “I think it’s time we tackle this head on, you’ll have a life vest on and me to keep you safe. We’ll make a day of it. Drinks, lunch. You’ll feel like you’re on a picnic.”

“Except I can’t drown on a picnic,” Hannah joked, tucking a long strand of tawny hair behind her ear, the warm sensation of a headache already beginning to spread. “Hannah,” Rick said softly, cupping her face, “we can do this together.” His gaze held onto her hazel eyes and she leaned her pounding temple into his hand, a wordless affirmation of his plan.

——

The lake was picturesque, really. A deep blue void stretching over thirty miles wide with a carving of green trees in the center, floating on a mirrored surface against an otherwise clear blue sky. The island stood in resistance to the monotony between sky and lake, inviting all who ventured into the depths to join it in its protest of the never-ending blue that surrounded it.

The journey to the dock had seemed all but a blur to Hannah, a hazy memory that scratched at the corner of her temple, already screaming in pain. A strong wind blew from the shore, pushing them towards the center of the lake, the afternoon sun hanging high above them. It was a “sign of good luck”, according to Rick, “to have the wind at your back”. The sail boat itself was a startlingly white thing with two large cloud-like sails erupting from its weather stained redwood deck. Attached to a tall spar, the sails were the only other objects that made contact with the blue sky above. Not a bird or a cloud in sight.

Hannah sat herself on a padded bench as close to the middle of the deck as she could, keeping her left hand gripped knuckle-white to the taffrail, the other clinging tight to the strap on her life vest. “I feel like one second we were home and the next thing you know I’m in the middle of a lake,” Hannah remarked in a shaky voice. “It’s hard to breathe in these things,” she said, pulling at the straps on her vest. Her temple pulsed in time to the waves crashing against the boat.

“You’re fine!” Rick replied with the sudden pop of a champagne bottle. “You’ll always be fine. Here, drink this. You’re doing really good today.” Hannah looked at the plastic glass and quickly grabbed the flute with her right hand, releasing the hold she had on her vest. “What happened to your hand?” Hannah asked, looking towards Rick, “you look like you’re bleeding, baby.”

“Must have cut myself I guess. I’ll clean it.”

“I’d offer to help but I’m sort of trapped here,” Hannah said, motioning to the railing. “Is there a towel anywhere? Or a-“

“It’s fine. You need finish that.”

Rick moved quickly to the front of the vessel, placing the open bottle down before settling easily across from her with his own glass. Taking a large gulp of his drink, Rick fixed his eyes back on Hannah, willing her to drink as well. With a forced smile she raised her glass and took a half-hearted sip. A metallic taste bubbled across her tongue and she grimaced, “this champagne tastes so…weird,” she said, smacking her lips. “Is it an old bottle?”

“No,” Rick said flatly. “Take another sip. It’ll help you get through this.”

“It’s so odd, I feel like I already had one.”

“If you had, you’d be calmer.”

Hannah set her glass down, shaking her head slightly. “No, it tastes funny. My head hurts.” She brought her free hand to her face and began to rub her temple in a slow circular motion, her brown hair whipping at her face. The wind it seemed, had changed direction and was blowing against the bow of the boat, yet the hull cut towards the island undeterred. Despite the gripping panic that she felt on her padded bench, Hannah appreciated the wind’s gentle spray of cool, clean water onto her face. A slight comfort as her chest filled with the imagined waters of her fear. Hannah looked up at the sails, gripping the rail tighter with every heave of the boat. “It’s seems so weird that there are no clouds or birds,” Hannah said, looking around. “It’s like we’re the only ones on the entire lake. How long have we been out here now, Rick? An hour?”

“No, not an hour.”

“Oh, it just seems like we’ve been sailing for awhile I guess. How much longer do you think-”

“Finish your drink, Hannah,” Rick said, finishing his glass in one large gulp before pouring himself another.

“No, baby. I’m not feeling so well,” she huffed, rubbing her temple. The life vest had grown tighter, hugging her ribcage until the act of breathing was strenuous. “It’ll make my headache worse. Can we turn around? We’re closer to shore than we are to the island.”

“The shore hasn’t been there for awhile, Hannah.”

Hannah craned her neck towards the direction of the dock and was surprised to see that it was in fact too far away to see. Blue in all directions.

“Rick, I-“

She examined her glass closely before releasing it in deep disgust, a reflex from a memory as far away, yet as painfully close as the island itself. The vest constricted further, pinching at her sides. Champagne spilled across the deck, soaking into the wood at her feet. Hannah was cut off by the sudden lurch of the boat, loosening her grip on the rail and throwing her face first onto the deck. The boat had stopped moving entirely and remained frozen in the choppy water that bashed against its hull. She looked up at her husband who had remained unaffected by the boat’s sudden lack of trajectory. Still holding his glass between his fingers, he looked down at her expressionless. He tapped one finger against his knee in a slow, rhythmic beat and began to bite at the skin inside his cheek, contorting his mouth into a tight screw. The wind, howling strong, was futile in its attempts to push the boat through the lake, and for the first time since realizing her presence on the boat, Hannah became aware of how far they were from land. She stumbled to her feet and desperately grabbed onto the rope hanging from the main sail.

“Did we hit something?” Hannah gasped in a panic. The life vest tightened its grip on her chest, forcing the air from her lungs. The headache that had formed its existence in her temple, began to stretch its reach to her cheek, behind her eye. The wind continued on its journey to the island. “Why aren’t we moving?” she whispered.

The sail above her continued to extend itself in vain, trying to move the vessel towards the island. The spar, standing tall to extend the sail, was failing in its resistance of the wind, and began to splinter in loud, fragmented cracks. The boat was suspended on the water, groaning, still, the afternoon sun beat down on them. Hannah looked around the deck, refusing to stray beyond the safety of the rope, feeling sick whenever her gaze met the water’s restless surface. Transfixed by the lake’s ability to drown her without ever touching it. Rick sighed heavily into the wind.

“Why do you always do this, Hannah?”

Hannah snapped her gaze back towards her husband. “Baby-Rick, I’m scared. Is this normal? What’s happening, I want-“

“Hannah!” Rick snapped, jumping quickly to his feet. He grabbed the bottle of champagne and moved towards her slowly. “Calm down. Drink your champagne and I promise you’ll be fine. We’re never going to get through this if you don’t face it head on,” he said, pointing a calloused finger in her direction. Rick took a step forward and then froze, staring down at the champagne bottle in his hand. “This,” he said, clutching the golden neck of the bottle, “is the way it goes now.”

“Baby, what’s going on? Why aren’t we moving?” The pounding in Hannah’s head had become unbearable. A thick hammering that permeated deep into her skull and graduated from her cheek to her jaw, drilled its way into her teeth. A filling of her lungs. Rick moved towards her, bottle in hand, his shoulders tense. “Just shut the fuck up and drink!” He screamed, lunging towards her. Hannah released the rope and dove backwards but Rick moved faster. Gripping her by the neck and chin with one large hand, he began to pour champagne onto her face, down her throat, “just fucking drink it so we can finish this!”

Hannah choked, spitting the coppery champagne out and onto the deck. The boat began to move. Rick dropped her and Hannah fell to her knees, retching as she attempted to regain her footing. Rick stepped backwards, moving away from Hannah.

“I just wanted out,” he said. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t. I just want out.”

Hannah fought to her feet and grabbed the railing once more, struggling to stand against the boat’s rocking. Looking around wildly she saw no refuge. Unable to swim, stuck on a boat in the middle of a lake, with no options. “Don’t run, Hannah,” Rick said gruffly. “Don’t make this longer than it needs to be. You run, and I catch you. You jump, and you land right here in front of me where you are now. This,” he said, clutching the bottle, “needs to be perfect. Exact. It’ll never end otherwise.” Rick ran his hand across his chin, dragging it down slowly before dropping his arm limply by his side. He looked out to the island in the center of the lake, “I just want to make it this time.”

“Rick! Please, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.” Rick turned back towards her, stoic, blue eyes shrouded under his eyebrows, curls twisting in the wind.

“Just don’t fight it, Hannah. We’ve already done it all.”

She turned to run, to anywhere on the sail boat away from Rick but felt him yank her long hair towards him, shoving her down to the rough deck of the ship. Hannah gasped, and attempted to fight him off but he held her down, pinned her to the planks with his knees. In one swift motion, Rick brought the side of the champagne bottle down to the side of her temple. With a loud crack, Hannah lost her vision, and with the second strike, her jaw was broken. Hannah felt her mouth fill with blood and she waved her arm around wildly, swinging at everything and nothing. The bottle had cracked, sending shards of glass flying across the boat.

“Every time you fight, and every time it doesn’t matter.”

Rick stood up slowly, dropping the neck of the bottle. He gripped Hannah by the back of her vest and lifted her to the railing. Unhooking the snaps, he grunted loudly as he shoved her overboard. For the briefest of moments, she bobbed above the waves, making light gurgling noises as she struggled to remain afloat. The wind pushed Rick towards the island, as it moved further and further from him, receding into the distance. He walked back over to his seat, crunching glass under his feet as he moved. He sat facing away from the island and stared at Hannah’s now empty bench. The boat cut its path backwards through the water as if it was tied to the dock. His hands were bloody, but they did not shake. They had not in a long time.

“I feel like one second we were home and the next thing you know I’m in the middle of a lake,” Hannah remarked in shaky voice. “It’s hard to breathe in these things.”