blond hair shines in the moonlight.
Baby, would you like to learn how to float?
She nods eagerly. I put my hand on her back. Lie flat .
On what?
On the water, like it’s a bed. Take a deep breath first .
Baby gulps in some air and moves back into my hand. I push up slightly and Baby’s
feet rise. She instinctively holds her arms out on the water’s surface. When I feel
she is stable, I let go, holding my hand above her face so she can see my gestures.
See . . . you’re floating by yourself .
Baby smiles, afraid to move.
Keep breathing and you won’t sink , I promise.
I wash my hair while Baby drifts. It’s nice to feel clean. The cold water is refreshing,
especially after the heat of day. We are stuck inside without air-conditioning and
it’s so hard to sleep when it’s hot.
Baby jerks upright suddenly.
What?
I felt something, against my leg . She looks down into the water, searching.
It was probably a fish .
What if They live under the water? She starts to head back to shore.
They don’t. They don’t like the lake .
What if there is a new kind, like the ones in the ship. What if They like being in
the water? She looks around wildly, unsure of where to head to safety.
They couldn’t live down there . I try to calm her.
Mermaids do . She is already to our pile of belongings, putting her dirty clothes on over her
wet body. I follow her over.
Mermaids are just a story , I tell her.
She looks up at me, tearful. No they’re not. Mermaids are from Before. Like horses. You said horses could live
in the sea .
Seahorses aren’t horses that live in the sea . . . I start to explain but stop myself. It doesn’t really matter if she has the
Before straight in her head. She can believe in mermaids and horses that live in the
sea if she wants.
You’re right , I tell her. But mermaids and seahorses have a special way of breathing under the water. The monsters
don’t .
Baby looks out over the lake, searching for creatures or maybe for mermaids.
I rummage in my bag and hand her a bundle. You can leave those smelly old clothes . I pilfered the house while she was asleep.
Baby takes the clothes and examines them. We have to wear dark, neutral colors so
we won’t stick out at night, but I found a practical brown dress, something that will
keep her cool in the summer heat and still be good to run in if we need to escape.
Baby holds it out in front of her, smoothing down the fabric. She pulls it on over
her head.
It’s a little too big, but Baby doesn’t seem to care. She twirls around, making the
bottom of the dress billow out into a bell shape.
Thank you, Amy .
You’re welcome . I also took clothes for myself, some dark jeans and a black T-shirt. I got the shirt
from a stuffy, messy room plastered with rock posters, a dusty guitar in the corner.
Before I get dressed, I motion Baby over and hand her a pair of scissors. I want you to cut my hair short , I tell her.
How short? Baby wants to know. We usually trim each other’s hair every few months.
Short short , I tell her.
Why? Her own blond hair is sort of thin; it never gets tangled.
Because it’s too hot . I just don’t want to be bothered with it. I haven’t combed it in a week and it is
starting to turn into dreadlocks.
You’ll look funny , she warns.
Not if you do a good job . I kneel next to her and hope she can make it sort of straight.
She starts to snip away, tentatively at first, but then she gets into it. I feel the
hair drop down my back and all around me. Already I feel lighter. Baby steps back
to examine her work.
How does it look? I ask.
Not bad . She bites her lower lip. Not good either .
I slip back into the lake to rinse myself off. My fingers slip through my short hair.
I can’t see it but it seems like Baby made it even on both sides, close to my scalp
until just above my ear, then a bit longer on top.
I look like a rock star from Before, I try to convince myself. In
Baby, would you like to learn how to float?
She nods eagerly. I put my hand on her back. Lie flat .
On what?
On the water, like it’s a bed. Take a deep breath first .
Baby gulps in some air and moves back into my hand. I push up slightly and Baby’s
feet rise. She instinctively holds her arms out on the water’s surface. When I feel
she is stable, I let go, holding my hand above her face so she can see my gestures.
See . . . you’re floating by yourself .
Baby smiles, afraid to move.
Keep breathing and you won’t sink , I promise.
I wash my hair while Baby drifts. It’s nice to feel clean. The cold water is refreshing,
especially after the heat of day. We are stuck inside without air-conditioning and
it’s so hard to sleep when it’s hot.
Baby jerks upright suddenly.
What?
I felt something, against my leg . She looks down into the water, searching.
It was probably a fish .
What if They live under the water? She starts to head back to shore.
They don’t. They don’t like the lake .
What if there is a new kind, like the ones in the ship. What if They like being in
the water? She looks around wildly, unsure of where to head to safety.
They couldn’t live down there . I try to calm her.
Mermaids do . She is already to our pile of belongings, putting her dirty clothes on over her
wet body. I follow her over.
Mermaids are just a story , I tell her.
She looks up at me, tearful. No they’re not. Mermaids are from Before. Like horses. You said horses could live
in the sea .
Seahorses aren’t horses that live in the sea . . . I start to explain but stop myself. It doesn’t really matter if she has the
Before straight in her head. She can believe in mermaids and horses that live in the
sea if she wants.
You’re right , I tell her. But mermaids and seahorses have a special way of breathing under the water. The monsters
don’t .
Baby looks out over the lake, searching for creatures or maybe for mermaids.
I rummage in my bag and hand her a bundle. You can leave those smelly old clothes . I pilfered the house while she was asleep.
Baby takes the clothes and examines them. We have to wear dark, neutral colors so
we won’t stick out at night, but I found a practical brown dress, something that will
keep her cool in the summer heat and still be good to run in if we need to escape.
Baby holds it out in front of her, smoothing down the fabric. She pulls it on over
her head.
It’s a little too big, but Baby doesn’t seem to care. She twirls around, making the
bottom of the dress billow out into a bell shape.
Thank you, Amy .
You’re welcome . I also took clothes for myself, some dark jeans and a black T-shirt. I got the shirt
from a stuffy, messy room plastered with rock posters, a dusty guitar in the corner.
Before I get dressed, I motion Baby over and hand her a pair of scissors. I want you to cut my hair short , I tell her.
How short? Baby wants to know. We usually trim each other’s hair every few months.
Short short , I tell her.
Why? Her own blond hair is sort of thin; it never gets tangled.
Because it’s too hot . I just don’t want to be bothered with it. I haven’t combed it in a week and it is
starting to turn into dreadlocks.
You’ll look funny , she warns.
Not if you do a good job . I kneel next to her and hope she can make it sort of straight.
She starts to snip away, tentatively at first, but then she gets into it. I feel the
hair drop down my back and all around me. Already I feel lighter. Baby steps back
to examine her work.
How does it look? I ask.
Not bad . She bites her lower lip. Not good either .
I slip back into the lake to rinse myself off. My fingers slip through my short hair.
I can’t see it but it seems like Baby made it even on both sides, close to my scalp
until just above my ear, then a bit longer on top.
I look like a rock star from Before, I try to convince myself. In
Similar Books
