Prologue
The thing about drowning that most people don’t realize is that it’s a hot affair. Burning.
Most people, when they conjure up thoughts of water, think cold. Ice. But that’s before the water makes its way into your lungs. Before the pressure from the foreign substances ignites the red-hot panic and the fire starts to smolder.
It takes mere seconds for the first wave to hit. Panic. Searing pain. Delirium.
Water. I need water.
And that’s the thing about panic. Your thoughts operate off muscle memory. The logic escapes you.
As you swallow more water, welcoming it into where the fire is -- it spreads.
Everything is on fire.
“What do you mean no?” The words thundered from my mouth before I could stop them. I wince slightly as my mother’s voice rings out from the recesses of my mind. You have a good heart, Kalia. But this mouth.
Before the recipient of my temporary loss of control could respond to my sharp tone I allowed a deep sigh to escape my lips and spoke again.
“Sorry. Sam. Give me a sec.” I swallow more air – willing myself to breathe -- determined to gather my resolve before I lose it.
This isn’t Sam’s fault. This isn’t anyone’s fault. Not really. So why was I getting so worked up?
I heard Sam moving around on the other end of the phone. The faint sound of her chewing on her lip informed me that she was trying to be patient; giving me space to have my pity party while my rational brain caught up to me. Another breath and three, two, one…
“Tell me more. I want to understand.” The words leave my lips with sincerity. My tone transformed to one of concern.
Sam has known me most of my life. And if she was saying no she had valid reason. I wanted to support and respect her boundaries. But damnit the less healed parts of me needed to know why, needed to sleuth out that this wasn’t somehow about me.
I could hear the faint smile on Sam’s lips as she spoke. “It’s April 26th, Kalia.” Her words were soft. Patient. Understanding. And as soon as she spoke them my hand rose to my face in an act equal parts shame and relief.
“Fuck, Sam,” I breathed. “I’m sorry. I knew the date but it didn’t really register yet.” Of course, Sam couldn’t help me right now. Not today. She needed to be with her family.
“It’s okay,” Sam said, an audible clink of her setting down a cup sounded in the background as she spoke. “Raincheck for tomorrow?”
The question was sincere. Sam really would meet with me tomorrow if I took her up on the offer. But then again, we have been friends most of our lives and I was now very aware of the date.
“No,” I said, the firm tone from before sneaking back into my voice. “Let your mom know I love her and focus on you. I can handle this on my own.” My back straightened as I sat up higher after the words. I was slightly surprised by the how measured and certain I sounded.
I can handle this, I repeated to myself. Was I trying to convince myself?
I could sense the hesitation on the other end of the line. Sam was wrestling with weather to believe me or not. She was wrestling with the reality that she couldn’t help me today and she really shouldn’t try to tomorrow. We both knew it would be too much right now.
“Okay,” Sam said finally, I could hear the strained smile in her voice. “I love you. Please call me if you need to talk.”
“Of course,” I say, smiling into the phone. We both know I won’t call. It was a lie. But a well-meaning one. “Love you too.”
I hit the end call button and shove my phone back into my pocket. “Fuuuck,” I groan, rubbing my eyes aggressively.
I swallowed some more air as my fingers began to wander making their way to my temples. I couldn’t tell if it was the beginning of a headache or a lack of coffee, but I was feeling even more on edge after talking to Sam.
A moment later I was making my way across my apartment to the kitchen. Coffee pod. Machine. Cup. Start. Each step in making my coffee echoed through my mind — a mindfulness activity I frequently used when distracting myself with the task at hand. Each sound from the machine supported the finality of the step before. Until the comforting drip, drip, drip of coffee brewing filled the silence and the smell lured a growl from my empty stomach.
Food. Fuck.
You would think, with it being such an important thing for humans to do, I would remember to feed myself. An error I frequently made; forgetting the more mundane parts of humanity.
I took a step back, turning as I went. I was a millisecond into another bity party when my foot connected with an object in my path and I immediately came crashing to the ground.
My jaw smacked audibly into the hardwood floor and a string of curse words fell from my lips in a series of hisses. Pain shot through me, my teeth clenched together as I took inventory of my them. I half expected to have chipped one in the fall.
“Meooow.”
My eyes shot over to the black and white feline I had tripped over. She looked at me with expectant amber eyes, seemingly unaware of her part in the accident that just took place. Her tail swished calmly behind her as she moved to sit.
“You bitch,” I retorted. The anger and pain dissipating as I sat up and reached over to stroke the cat. “You could have warned me before trying to take me out.”
The coffee sputtered to a stop and I pushed myself up onto my feet, this time much more aware of my surrounding as I stepped around the cat to gather up the waiting coffee mug.
Few things eased the anger in me like black coffee did. Taking a swig of the coffee I sighed in contentment before starting towards the Livingroom, the cat trotting happily behind me. Food for myself forgotten momentarily as I went to check on the cat’s food and water.
I had just dropped the food scoop back into the cat food bin and let the lid fall when I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. Raising my coffee to my lips once more I slipped my phone back out and looked at the text that lit up my phone screen.
Heather
I swear to god if these kids do not sleep…
I chuckled before firing off a quick reply.
Kalia
If memory serves me, you didn’t do much of that either as a kid.
Heather
Fuck you.
Heather
But you’re right.
Kalia
Of course, I am. c;
Kalia
I’m sorry they aren’t sleeping.
Kalia
Are they sick again?
The assault of multiple texts began. Heather and I were both unapologetic multi-message texters. It was how our brains worked. We would barely finish a thought before we were acting it out. It only made sense that this carried over to our communication habits as well.
Heather
I don’t think so.
Heather
Probably teething.
Heather
Or another developmental leap.
Kalia
Fuck. Didn’t they just have one of those?
Kalia
Shouldn’t they leave some brains for the other kids?
Kalia
They need to be careful.
Kalia
Their gonna end up with a big head like their dad.
The banter was comforting. Familiar. The kind of uncensored, borderline mean communication that put my mind right at ease.
Heather
You’re telling me. Big ass head having babies.
A series of emojis erupted behind the message leaving me laughing under my breath. I sucked down some more coffee, starting on my reply as more messages popped up.
Heather
I am the one that had to birth them, you know.
Kalia
Do you guys need anything?
Kalia
I can venmo you some cash for supplies or send an order your way.
Heather
Nah, we’re good.
Heather
I don’t want your dirty money anyway.
Kalia
My money isn’t dirty.
Kalia
And if I want to spend money on my nephews I will.
Heather
Thanks. I appreciate it.
Kalia
Yeah, yeah.
Kalia
So.
Kalia
What is this about?
Heather wasn’t the one to reach out unprovoked. Things had changed after she had her twins — we defiantly talk more regularly, but she had already reached out yesterday. More than one unprovoked conversation a week was suspicious.
Heather
I can’t just text my sister?
Heather
Old age is making you paranoid.
Kalia
Heather.
I watched the three dots dance on the screen as Heather typed on her phone. Then they stopped. I set down my coffee, knots turning in my stomach. And then the dots started again.
Heather
Jessica reached out.
Heather
She’s worried about you.
Heather
Mentioned James is getting released.
I gritted my teeth. Fucking hell, our family was full of gossips. Well intentioned gossips, but gossips none the less.
I couldn’t say I was surprised Jessica has reached out to Heather. And I had a fairly good idea who had stirred the pot. As the next couple of texts lit up my screen my suspicions were proven correct.
Heather
Jessica overheard mom telling dad that you were ignoring James' calls.
Heather
Not that dad really cared. But mom was worried.
Kalia
I’m fine, Heather.
Kalia
James can go fuck himself.
Kalia
I love him, but he is a dick.
Heather
No, I know that.
Heather
It’s just…
Heather
You and mom are the only ones he talks to.
Kalia
He talks to Jessica too.
Kalia
And Cody.
Heather
Not according to Jessica.
Heather
Not since the last 4th of July party.
Heather
Cody’s phone is broken now too.
Heather
And it’s Cody. But I think something happened there too.
Kalia
What happened at the party?
Kalia
I can’t imagine Jessica NOT talking to James.
Heather
I don’t know…
Heather
You should ask Jessica.
Heather
I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.
Kalia
I’m fine, Heather.
The lies were getting exhausting. I just kept sending them knowing that everyone involved was aware how not okay I was. Sam knew. Heather knew. And it seemed mom and Jessica also knew. And no one had said anything to me. Instead it was a group panic over my wellbeing.
Kalia
I’m not 16 anymore.
Kalia
I’m a big girl. And I can take care of myself.
I paused a beat, trying to determine how to express my thoughts. But I quickly decided against it.
Kalia
Let me know if you or the boys need anything.
Kalia
And send my love to Luke.
Kalia
I gotta run.
Kalia
Chat later?
I chewed on my lip as I read over my abrupt ending to the conversation. Real convincing, Kalia. Smooth as gravel.
I watched the dots dance on the screen again, finishing up my coffee and heading to drop the mug in the sink. I didn’t even bother to rinse the mug. I was feeling trapped. Hot. Was the heat on? God, I needed to get out of here. I needed fresh air.
Heather
Yeah. Chat later.
Heather
Love you.
Kalia
Love you too.
With another string of swear words I gathered up my jacket and my car keys. I needed to go. To be anywhere but here – trapped in this apartment with all of the concern being shared with me.
“Be good, Flora,” I called back in the direction of the Livingroom before opening the front door. Her faint meow was the last sound I heard before shutting and locking the door.
I took the stairs two at a time and jogged towards my beat-up Jeep.
“Kalia? Is that you dear?” Mrs. Larson’s concerned face popped up in the screen of her window as I slid my keys into the car door lock. She was a kind older woman who, for some reason, took to checking on me whenever she saw me out and about.
“Yes, Ma’am,” I called back in an almost sing-song voice.
“Where are you going?” Mrs. Larson asked.
I grimaced slightly before taking a breath and forcing a smile onto my lips. “Out,” I said, yanking my car door open.
I slid inside, slamming the door shut before Mrs. Larson could reply. She was nice enough, I just couldn’t take any more concern right now. I needed space to breathe. I needed to leave.
Turning the key in the ignition, I listened to the car jump to life. Then I turned up the radio, clicked my seatbelt into place and backed out of my parking spot. Throwing my car into drive I slammed my foot down on the gas and sped away -- no destination in mind.
