The Art of Not Breathing

by Sarah Alexander

  “What was wrong with him?” Tay asks, when I take a break from telling stories.

  I flinch slightly at the question before remembering that it’s a normal thing to ask.

  “A few things. We don’t know, really, or at least Mum never told us. The doctors kept changing their minds, but it was probably to do with being starved of oxygen when he was born.”

  “I’m sorry,” Tay says. “He sounds like a cool kid.”

  When it’s nearly time for me to go, I feel sad. It’s been a long time since I shared Eddie like this, and rather than giving part of me away, I feel like I’ve gained a bit more of Eddie.

  “The hardest thing,” I say, “is that we don’t know what happened to him. Sometimes I think that we’re all just waiting for him to turn up. I wish that we’d found him so we could have said goodbye properly.”

  Tay makes a choking noise, and I feel bad for burdening him, but then I look up and he’s just coughing.

  “You can say goodbye in your head,” he says quietly. And then he says, “Maybe it was a good thing that you didn’t have to see him. Bodies that have been underwater don’t look human.”

  My head instantly fills with nasty images of mutilated zombies. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

  I try hard to picture Eddie underwater but alive: his dark curly hair bouncing in the current, his lips red and smiling.

  “Sorry,” Tay replies, looking confused. “I wish I could help.”

  I turn to him. “There is something you can do.”

  “Of course. Anything,” Tay whispers.

  “Help me get to the drop-off.”

  His mouth falls open. “No way,” he says defiantly.

  “Yes way. I think it’s where Eddie would have ended up. I want to go down there and see.”

  “What do you think you’re going to find?” Tay’s eyes are wide in horror.

  “Nothing. I don’t know. It’s not like I think he’s still down there, but I just want to go to where he died. You know, like if someone dies in a car crash, the family all go to the place where it happened to put flowers and notes there. I want to do that.”

  “And if someone falls into a river, the family put flowers on the bridge or by the side of the river. Not in it.”

  “Only because they can’t go in the river. But that’s the difference, Tay. I can go down. I know how to. It’s the only way to get closure.”

  “That’s not the way to get closure. The best way to let go is to start living your life.”

  “You just said you’d do anything for me.”

  “I would. But it’s too deep. It’s impossible. You’d need to hold your breath for at least four minutes.”

  “I just want to say goodbye.”

  Then he pulls me around to face him and presses his body into mine.

  “Okay, here’s the plan. I’ll think about it. But we have to lie low for a bit, stay away from Danny and the harbor.”

  “I’m not giving up diving.”

  “I’m not saying that. I’m saying that we’ll have to make sure no one sees us. We dive at night.”

  “In the dark?”

  “Yeah, it’s even better in the dark. That’s the thing with art. You have to always look at it from a different perspective.”

  “You’ve lost me. What’s art? The sea?”

  “Diving. Every dive is different, and two people doing the same dive will have different experiences. And if you dive in the same spot at a different time of day, it will be different. It’s the same with a painting. If you look at a painting in different light, or even no light, you’ll have a new perspective on it. Don’t you think?”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Are you crazy? The drop-off is too dangerous but diving in the dark isn’t?”

  But I feel a thrill bubble away inside me.

  I long for the dark.

  “The sea comes alive at night,” Tay says. He kisses my collarbone, and then he moves his hand up inside my sweater. I don’t stop him. I’m not sure if it’s the crazy amount of nicotine racing through me or Tay massaging me that’s making me dizzy, but I let him lay me down on the floor. He lifts my top right up and pulls my bra down, and then his mouth is on me and he’s telling me how nice I taste. I wait for Eddie to pop up and force me to stop, but he doesn’t. Eventually, Tay stops of his own accord and pulls my sweater back down. He looks worried.

  “Thank you for not running off,” I say.

  “Why would I run off? That’s crazy. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Tay’s arms tighten around me.

  “I miss him,” I say. “I miss my brother.”

  15

  The next day, Tay is different. I try to snuggle into him so we can plan our night dive, but his arm is stiff and I can’t get comfortable.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, looking up at him.

  “Nothing.”

  “Okay. Right—if you say the drop-off is beyond my limits, then I need to practice. There must be places that I can practice going deeper, like down to thirty meters, maybe.”

  “Elsie, stop. This isn’t going to work.”

  “What do you mean?” I don’t understand what he’s saying, but I know I don’t like it. My breath catches and I feel hot.

  “I mean I’m going to be quite busy from now on and I won’t be able to see you as much.”

  “I’m going to busy too—my exams start next week—but I’ll still make time for you.”

  “No. We can’t see each other.”

  “What’s happened? Yesterday we were planning our secret night dives, and now you’re dumping me?”

  I knew yesterday was too good to be true.

  “Is this because of everything I told you about Eddie? I’m such an idiot. I don’t know why I thought you’d understand. If it is, that isn’t really fair, because you were the one who got me in the water in the first place and made me think about everything. And now you’re going to leave because you can’t handle it?”

  “No, that’s not true at all.”

  “Okay, so it must be to do with Danny, then. I can’t believe you’re such a coward. Why do you listen to him when he clearly hates you?”

  “Don’t do this, El. It’s nothing to do with anyone—it’s just me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You already have,” I say. My voice wobbles.

  “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “You’re better off without me in your life.”

  Nothing makes sense. He stares at me, focused on something on my face. I feel my cheek, but there’s nothing there. He reaches out and strokes my cheek over and over again, until I feel quite scared.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  He pulls his hand away like I’ve given him an electric shock. Then he kisses me really hard on the lips. So hard, it actually hurts. His hands are all over my body, trying to feel every inch of me. As I try to pull away, I smack my head against the wall.

  “Sorry,” he gasps. He staggers back, then grabs his stuff and leaves.

  I follow him outside, but he’s vanished.

  I wander down to the water and wade in. I don’t even bother to take my shoes off. I’m not sure the sea does come alive at night. The water looks black and lifeless here.

  At home an hour later, I lie on my bed with my soaking-wet trainers still on and cry. It’s a different kind of crying to how I used to do it. Now the tears fall silently from my face and I don’t sob, because if I did, the air would be coming out.

  16

  Dillon is drying out. His skin is all shriveled and flaky, and it stretches across his collarbone so tightly, I almost expect the bones to pop out. His bulging knuckles are rough, with small dots of blood on them. It looks painful, and he rubs them and blows on them every now and then. If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect he’d been in a fight.

  He scrapes the sand into a pile using his bare feet. After each fresh heap, he shakes the grains from his feet and starts again. It’s the warmest day of the year so far, and we both wear cutoffs
. The trip to the beach takes my mind off Tay and the dull ache in the back of my skull.

  “What are we making?” I ask, and drag more sand onto his pile. “A mermaid?”

  “What are you, twelve? But okay. You can do the tail.”

  “That’s not fair! I should do the top part.”

  “No, that’s a man’s job.”

  I shove him and he falls right into his pile, squashing it flat. While he’s lying there, I kick sand onto his stomach, trying not to get it in his face. He’s laughing and his cheeks are the pinkest I’ve seen them in a long time, and then I’m laughing so much, I’m crying and get a stitch.

  “Bury me, then,” he says, almost choking through his laughter.

  We dig a bit of a hole, and then Dillon jumps in. As I fill it up with Dillon inside, I notice frown lines on his forehead that never used to be there. I try to smooth the creases from his forehead with my fingers. He yells when the sand from my hands falls into his eyes. He has his face scrunched up like the inside of a cabbage.

  “Relax,” I say. “I’m just exfoliating you.” I feel the grains scratch my skin as I crunch them into the creases.

  When only Dillon’s head is poking through the sand, I sit beside him and look out to sea. The water is calm and flat. I feel as though I could pick it up and hold it in my hands without it slipping off. It’s funny how water can look and feel so different depending on what day it is. I’m starting to understand what Tay meant about different light.

  “I miss our days like this. When your exams are over, can we do it more and have picnics like we used to?” I ask.

  “You have exams too, remember?” Dillon says.

  “I’ll be fine. Everyone says it’s impossible to fail technology, so at least I’ll pass one.” I give him the biggest smile I can muster.

  “Are you okay?” he asks. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

  “I will be,” I say. Even though I don’t think I’ll ever be okay again. “So, picnic soon?”

  “Sure. Without the sandwiches, though. I don’t much like sand in my sandwiches.”

  “Dillon, you’re not fat, you know,” I whisper.

  The sand cracks and falls away as he rises from his cocoon. “Let’s go home,” he replies.

  17

  Dillon and I get home just as Dad is leaving. He carries the last box to the car, and Mum stands at the gate with mascara all over her face.

  “I don’t deserve this, Colin,” she says between muffled sobs.

  He sees me and Dillon standing in the road.

  “Look after the kids, okay?” he shouts to Mum.

  He slams the boot and moves to the driver’s door.

  Dillon runs to him. “Don’t go, Dad,” he says.

  “It’s not forever,” my father says. “Your mum and I just need a bit of space. I’ll be back. All right, pal?”

  Dad hugs Dillon for a really long time. I hope he notices that Dillon is just skin and bone.

  I go to Mum and put my arm around her. She’s holding Dad’s atlas.

  “You’re better off without him,” I say, and she leans into me.

  I wonder if part of me wants her to go through this so someone understands how I feel—so someone else knows what it’s like to be deserted by the person you trusted most. But, actually, we’re all better off without him. Dillon and Mum will realize this one day.

  When he’s gone, Dillon storms past us into the house, knocking the atlas from Mum’s arms so it falls into the weeds.

  “You drove him away,” he snarls. “You should be the one to go.”

  I’ve never seen him this furious. My father always manages to ruin the few good days Dillon and I have together.

  EDDIE: What did the seaweed say when it got stuck at the bottom of the sea?

  ELSIE: I don’t know.

  EDDIE: Kelp! Kelp!

  ELSIE: That’s funny, Eddie. Your best one.

  1

  Dad’s been gone a week, and Dillon spends most of his time in the bathroom with the shower running hot to create a steam room. He won’t even talk to me, because if I hadn’t dragged him to the beach, he might have been able to stop Dad from leaving. I haven’t seen Tay for eight days. I’ve taken three exams and probably failed them all. Three more to go. Life officially sucks.

  I sit alone on the floor at the bottom of the deep end of the pool, and it feels gritty under my backside, other people’s dirt digging into my skin. It’s impossible to stay still because there is nothing to hold me down, so I drift from side to side. I burst up to the surface, creating waves with my body and arms, and a mother with a baby throws a disgusted look in my direction and I don’t even care. I bob up and down in the small swell that I’ve created, watching the water spill over the sides, into the overflow drains.

  A pair of legs covered in blond hair appear in front of me. I look up and see Danny.

  Not good. Life just got even worse.

  There’s nowhere to hide but under the water. A minute goes by, and then another, and then I need to breathe. He’s crouched down when I surface, arms balanced on his knees.

  “I thought it was you. Can we talk?”

  “I’m busy,” I reply, and then go down again.

  I last only a minute this time.

  “I don’t want to fight. I’ll wait until you’ve finished.” He points to a bench at the side of the pool.

  I don’t have the energy to go down again. There’s no getting away from him.

  “Pass me my towel, then,” I say as I climb up the ladder.

  The heat from his body stops me shivering as we sit on the bench.

  “You told me to stay away from the harbor. You didn’t say anything about the pool. Not that I have to listen to you, anyway.”

  “We might have got off on the wrong foot.”

  “I haven’t seen Tay, if that’s what you want to know.”

  “I was wondering, actually. I haven’t seen him either. My dad’s going mad because the diving club is supposed to open next week and Tay’s nowhere to be seen. We can’t get through on his mobile—it’s like the number doesn’t exist.”

  Bits of towel fluff are stuck to my legs, and I flick them off one by one onto the wet tiles by our feet. They soak up the water and float away. I wonder where Tay is. It doesn’t make any sense, because the reason he was here was to train as an instructor for Mick’s school.

  “Well, you sent him away, didn’t you?” I ask.

  Danny scratches his neck. He has a shaving nick that looks sore.

  “Look, I didn’t tell him to leave. I just told him not to hurt you.”

  “Well, I’m sorry that you’re a man down, but I can’t really help you.”

  “Maybe you can help. I need a favor.”

  I almost laugh in his face. I can’t imagine what he’d need help with.

  “The clubhouse still needs work before we open. We need someone to help us finish decorating it, and then when we’re open, we’ll need help with equipment and the boat—someone to come out on the boat with us on dives and be a spotter and generally help out.”

  “You want me to be your minion,” I say. I can’t believe that he thinks I’d want to be his slave.

  “No, it’s not like that. It makes sense—we need someone who’s interested in diving and who isn’t afraid to get a bit dirty. Think of it as a kind of apprenticeship.”

  “So you’d pay me?”

  “Not in cash—in dives. I’d give you lessons. Proper ones.”

  “I already know how to dive, thanks. Anyway, I’ve got exams. I’m too busy.” I stand up to go and hold the towel tight around me.

  Danny stands too and towers above me. It feels strange being this close to him. I remember the first time we met at the clubhouse when he looked right through me.

  “Okay,” he says. “Well, it’s up to you, of course, but don’t you want to be a better diver? Go deeper, dive for longer?”

  Yes! I want to say. Yes, I do, but just not with you.

 
; “I’m late for dinner,” I say, wringing the excess water from my hair onto Danny’s dry feet.

  “Well, let me know if you change your mind. Good luck with your ‘studying,’” he replies, nodding toward the water.

  It’s not that I change my mind, exactly. I go down to the harbor on the off chance that Tay might be there. The clubhouse now has deep blue walls, with swirly wave patterns running around the bar area. The boat boys are sprawled out on squashy red cushions in the middle of the floor, poring over maps, drinking Coke. Tay is not here. Coward. A lump grows in my throat.

  Rex sees me first and calls me over.

  “Hey, mermaid! What’s new?”

  Danny pats the cushion next to him and asks what I think of the place. It’s nice, I tell them as I sit down.

  “It’s like being underwater.”

  For some reason they think this is hilarious.

  Rex jabs a finger at the map, and when I look closer, it seems to be some sort of intricate plan of the sea floor. He explains there’s a wreck just off Lossiemouth. It’s at forty-three meters.

  “We’re going in a month or two. You wanna come?” Rex asks. “Danny says you might be our new spotter now that . . .” He trails off.

  “She can dive with us,” Danny says. “Tay’s been teaching her, a bit. But now I’m going to show her how it’s really done.”

  The boat boys go quiet.

  I suck in my breath, the way Tay taught me, first into my belly, then into my lungs. I sit in lotus position like this for a minute, and when a minute is up I do a little dance, pretending that my arms are dolphins, twisting, turning, diving. Even as the boat boys, Danny included, roll around in hysterics, I keep my breath inside me until my body is screaming for me to release. It feels good when I breathe out.

  “Fuck me,” Rex says, sighing.

  “No, thanks,” I reply, and suddenly I am a new confident me. Joey is killing himself beside me. I remember Tay’s first lesson. Step one: be confident. Inside, I smile.

  “So what’s this place called now? Doesn’t the dive school have a name?”