by Eden Winter
“You saved me,” I said. My voice was raspy from all the liquid I had just spewed out and the incessant coughing. Peter looked up from the shirt he was wringing and looked at me. His expression was like everyone else’s. There was no relief about the fact that I had not drowned. Instead, there was more a slight fear behind his eyes and what I was also assuming was disappointment.
“I’m very sorry about that.” I lowered my gaze when I spoke again. The last thing I wanted to do was look into the accusing eyes of people who didn’t know me but had already made up their minds there was something off about me.
“You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t hurt anyone. Are you okay, Samantha?”
Philomena was the first one to speak. I looked at her, and I could see now the concerned look on her face was genuine. Her brown skin appeared darker to me, but that was probably because she was facing away from the rays of the sun. Reginald was sitting next to her, and he looked more confused than anything. Delilah’s and Baylee’s faces were completely blank. In Baylee’s defense, I was going to guess that must have been her general demeanor.
“I’m fine. I thought I saw something is all.” I whispered my reply because I hadn’t yet decided how much I was going to reveal. I didn’t know these people, and I had to admit that even though we weren’t friends, I was worried of driving them away like I had driven my other friends away. None of them had believed me when it came to my ex. Everyone thought I was a monster capable of attempted murder just because I had stolen him from my sister. In truth, he was the one who had made the initial advances on me, and I was young and thought the feelings he had for me were real and deeper than wanting to manipulate and control me. I let a man come between me and my sister, and I found out quite early into the affair—and later the relationship—that he wasn’t the man any of us thought he was.
My friends and everyone else thought the bruises and swelling I had after the accident were self-inflicted so that I could tarnish his name, when really, he was an abusive phony. I had been the victim of mental, emotional, and—toward the end—physical abuse. The time in the car was the first time he laid a finger on me, and I vowed that would be the last time I was going to let anyone hurt me or make me feel so low about myself that I would drift away from my family and the people who were worthy enough for me to consider as my friends.
My sister never saw that abusive side of him. She only saw what appeared to be a loving and caring guy who had strayed because he had been enchanted by the wiles of her younger more fun-loving sister. We didn’t speak for a very long time. I still don’t know if she believes my side of the story about what happened. I was afraid to go into too much detail, and Isabelle’s too nice to bring up something that might hurt me or stir up negative memories.
I did what I had to do in order to protect myself, and everyone still thought I was a lunatic. The ones I hadn’t pushed away or drifted away from [because I became so dependent on the love and affection of my ex] walked away later on. Some thought I lied about the whole thing and spread so many different versions of the story to other people they knew. After my ex did that damage, he left town, and left me to pick up all the broken pieces. I felt guilty because there was a part of me that missed him, or missed the attention that he had showed me. There was still a part of me that was heartbroken when I should have felt nothing beyond anger and betrayal. I don’t know what would have happened if he had stayed in town or if Isabelle had not wanted to reconnect with me.
“What is it you think you saw?” Reginald asked. I had been too busy thinking about what I had said that I had almost forgotten about the fire only I had seen. I wondered if the ones who were with me on the boat had time to fill in Baylee and Reginald about what I told them had happened to me before I came to by the edge of the lake.
“I could have sworn I saw a rare fish. You know the gold and blue one no one has claimed to have seen for years?” I said. It wasn’t my best lie, but it was better than telling them I saw a fire that wasn’t there just like I had seen them before I had even met them.
“The fish of Cesar?” That was the most emotion I had seen from Baylee the whole afternoon. She perked up a bit and her eyes widened. “I thought that was a myth.”
“The what fish?” Philomena asked. She was stuffing grapes into her mouth.
“It’s that legendary fish that’s said to have all these mystical powers, babe. It transformed into a shark, and then it swam all the way from the canals in Italy so it could escape some emperor who wanted to use its abilities to gain absolute world power,” Reginald said.
“If it’s Italian, why isn’t it called the fish of Caesar?” Delilah asked. She rolled her eyes and scoffed. I wondered why Peter didn’t fancy her; she seemed great.
“I don’t know. I just know that it can shapeshift into any water creature from salt or fresh water, and if it’s caught and you answer three of its riddles, it’ll grant you like five wishes or something. And they’re five bullshit free wishes,” Reginald said. He plucked a grape and put it in his mouth. I didn’t see him chew it at all, but in a second, the grape was gone. He must have swallowed it whole.
“Bullshit free?” Philomena whispered. She was staring at Reginald as if he’d told her he was made of gold and chocolate.
“Yep. No loopholes or setbacks like some of that tricky pixie magic,” he said. Baylee glared at him but said nothing.
I didn’t even know much about the fish of Cesar. Those were tales we were told in grade school. People claimed they had seen the fish, but it was like the Loch Ness monster in Scotland. One had existed eons ago, but it had long since died. People were still claiming they had seen her when that wasn’t the case. The fish of Cesar might have existed, but it was certainly dead by now. No creature could be that elusive.
“What are the riddles?” Philomena asked. I guess she didn’t grow up here if she didn’t know the story about the golden and blue fish of wonder.
“I don’t know. Never met him,” Reginald said. For some reason, that made me smile. Despite the tribal marks visible on his face, there was nothing intimidating about Reginald. He seemed like a fun and goofy guy. In another life, I could see us being friends. The same went for Philomena. Delilah and Baylee hadn’t yet grown on me.
“Maybe I was wrong. It could have been the way the sun was reflecting on the lake. It blinded me for a second, and I guess I fell back,” I said. I was trying to get the topic back on me so that it would naturally flow in another direction. The more everyone talked in circles, the more I anticipated a slew of questions. I figured it was better to get them all out of the way as soon as possible.
“You hit the water pretty hard. That must have been why you fainted,” Peter said. He was the only one who didn’t look convinced by my story. He was twisting his hair to drain more water out of it.
I knew I had I fainted before I hit the water, and that might have been Peter’s way of letting me know he figured that out as well. He had a suspicious look on his face, but it didn’t last. He went back to drying himself off.
“I have a towel,” Delilah said. I was just about to thank her when I realized she was talking to Peter. She rummaged through her bag and pulled out a black towel. She handed it to Peter, who was a bit reluctant when he took it. He shot me a look, but I returned it with a shrug. The situation didn’t need to feel any more awkward than it already was. In this merry band of misfit post-teenagers, I was the odd one out. I knew it was mostly because none of them knew me, but I still felt off because they were people who had heard another lie about me. I wondered if they would talk about me behind my back or if they believed the story I told.
“I’m sorry for ruining your afternoon,” I said. Reginald took a towel out of Philomena’s bag and handed it to me. I thanked him and wrapped myself with it. I wasn’t cold, but it felt nice to try to become as snuggly and dry as possible.
“Not at all. That’s one way to make a first impression,” Reginald said. Just hearing him say that made me feel
better. Where were people like him and Philomena when I was going through a rough time in my life?
I was too nervous to look up at Peter. I could sense that he was mad at me, and though I probably could sense his energy toward me the least, he was the one I was most afraid to disappoint.
I thought my falling into the water meant the end of the afternoon, but everyone was unpacking food and lying down on blankets and just talking. Peter sat next to me, but my instincts told me not to look directly at him. We spoke for a little bit, but the day was about being a group. No one brought up the water or what happened between me and my ex from the year before, and the only discomfort I felt came because I was expecting them to bring that up again. I was waiting for the conversation to shift back to my shortcomings and problems, but it never did. It was my own mind that was preventing me from having a peaceful afternoon.
Chapter Three
Afternoon Delight
Isabelle would have been lying to herself if she said she couldn’t remember a time when she was this happy. In every situation, she found a way to be happy or at least be at peace with whatever she was doing or her general environment. The negative days were lessons, the negative people were just misunderstood or needed to be helped, and whenever she felt her heart about to break, she knew it would be healed to be better and stronger for whatever came next in her life. She was the queen, the true spin doctor of positivity. There was no point in festering in the negative spaces, because soon that was all that would be left. She filled up her negative spaces with pink bubble gum and flowers, so her heart was now a mosaic—far from perfect but still beautiful and in one piece.
“It is a bright and beautiful world out there. We should be adding to that beauty, not trying to lock it away,” she would say if anyone presented her with negativity. If there was something just too dark about another person’s soul, then she would leave them be. Life was easier that way. But that was very different from meaning that life was better that way. Her kindness had oftentimes come off as naïve, while her sister Samantha, although aloof, had allowed herself to experience life freely. She was ruled by her emotions in a different way than Isabelle was.
To Isabelle, kindness was freedom. It was simply in her nature to be giving, patient, and loving at all times. It was almost as if she weren’t a real person at all, but someone who was doing her utmost best to hide something. But what was it she could have been hiding?
“You’re awfully far away, Iz,” Malcolm said. He was driving his pickup, but he always stole sideways glances at the woman in the front seat. Isabelle’s mind had floated off to somewhere else. She was recalling all the times in her life when she had felt happy and she had felt sure. She was trying to figure out what it was that made a person sure of anything. And if it was that they were sure, but then the feeling was in fact a fleeting one, was it a true feeling to begin with?
She was really just figuring out her feelings toward Malcolm. They hadn’t been dating for too long, but he made her feel so different from how she had been feeling for a little over a year. His kindness was just like hers, as was his temperament, but he was far more adventurous than she was. He wanted to spend a lot of time outdoors, especially in the water. He must have been a mermaid in another life with the way he was always going swimming or snorkeling. Malcolm was a collector of strange things he found in the sea. Anything that looked like a trinket told a story to him, and he pocketed it and later added it to a growing collection of sea glass, pearls, metal, and other things he found beneath the waves.
He was charitable and sweet, with an apple pie friendly face. His smile brought ease to anyone who looked at him. His spirit commanded respect without him ever feeling the need to demand it. Malcolm was like a man straight out of a storybook. He was someone Isabelle knew she could love… if she wasn’t in love already.
“Yes, I’m sorry. My mind was wandering,” Isabelle said.
“I hope it was leading you to a good place,” he said. He lowered the music on the radio even though it hadn’t been loud at all.
“I believe it was,” Isabelle grinned. She leaned over and ran her fingers along his right arm. It wasn’t on the steering wheel. It was so nice to feel the warmth of his skin. It made her so calm yet so uneasy at the same time.
Her last relationship could have been just like this one. What had only been about a year ago now felt like decades. She had done so much to push that memory out of her being that it felt far away to her now. She had been dating Alex King for a few weeks and thought there was something about him as well. She had been wrong about him. Alex always had lingering glances whenever Samantha was around them, and that only blossomed into something else.
She never told Samantha that she had caught them that day in the garden. Alex’ arms were wrapped around Samantha’s waist, and he was leaning down to kiss her. Samantha had looked so taken with him. This was not an accidental first-time kiss. This was something that had been happening for a while. There were feelings that came with the infidelity.
Isabelle could have opened the door then or spoken to Samantha or Alex about it, but she didn’t. She had it in her heart and her mind that her own sister and the man she was seeing respected her and respected their relationship enough to be honest with her about something so important. But Samantha never said a word and neither did Alex.
Isabelle and Alex had drifted apart until he eventually left her. He barely spoke about that as well. He stared at her with a blank look on his face when he said, “I’ve fallen in love with Samantha.” There was nothing behind those words. There was no apology, no remorse, and there was no chance for closure. Isabelle looked down and said nothing. She nodded, sucked in her tears, and let them go.
Samantha had stopped going to see her sister. They had lived together for a time. Isabelle was finished with college and working, and Samantha had just graduated. Once Alex was in the picture, Samantha moved out to be on her own. Alex moved in with her shortly after. Isabelle, not wanting to come off as bitter, extended an olive branch, but Samantha never accepted. The few times she saw her sister in the following months, Samantha actively avoided her sister. She would see Isabelle coming in the opposite direction, and she would turn around and walk away.
Isabelle didn’t want her sister to be overcome with grief or guilt, but she didn’t know how to talk to Samantha either. All she knew was that she needed to. She was still Samantha’s older sister, and it was in her nature to be forgiving.
There had also been rumors going around that Alex wasn’t all he seemed to be. Samantha rarely went out or spent time with her friends. She was completely devoted to Alex and her new relationship with him.
Isabelle didn’t ever remember her sister being someone who would lose sight of who she was for someone else, least of all a man. But Samantha also didn’t seem the type to go behind her sister’s back and engage in something as slimy as seeing Isabelle’s boyfriend behind her back either. At that point, Isabelle had no idea what her sister was capable of. There was a chance she was avoiding Isabelle for other reasons. But what could those be?
And then there was the night when the police had been called. Samantha was at the hospital but under heavy police guard. Samantha specifically asked for Isabelle. She had been far too proud to get their parents involved just then.
Isabelle’s worst fear was that something had happened to Samantha, and she raced to the hospital as fast as she could. Samantha was covered in bruises, especially on her face and around her neck, and she looked like she had been wet since her hair was damp. A towel was wrapped around her shoulders, but otherwise she was okay. She remembered when Samantha ran to her and fell into her arms. She was crying so much that the only words Isabelle could understand were, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Isabelle didn’t ask what happened right away. She held her sister and started crying too. It confirmed her suspicions all along that something was terribly wrong—that she couldn’t have been as angry as she felt she was justified becaus
e her sister had been going through her own pain. The police officer who was explaining the situation to her seemed so far away, she could barely hear him. There were a few words she picked up like “coma” and “questioning” and “car accident,” but those were words that were bobbing along in a sea that was too far away from her. All she wanted was to protect her younger sister, like it had been when they were in elementary school.
She knew she couldn’t be there to protect Samantha from everything all the time, but at least now she knew if there was something she was suspicious of, she was going to have to speak up. Her pride would always come second to her sister’s safety.
When Isabelle finally got her sister’s story, she said nothing. Of course she was still hurting, and she felt betrayed by her sister, but her sister was younger and manipulated by a man who was looking for someone he could control. Isabelle wasn’t sure if she ever said anything about that incident. There was a bouquet of trite, empty platitudes of reassurance, and comfort for her sister, but all she could think to do was to hold her and support her. Isabelle never spoke to Alex again. He had called on several occasions, but Isabelle would let the phone ring and delete any voice messages without ever hearing them. The last thing she needed was to be confused. Of course, she believed Samantha. Of course, she believed that Alex had hurt her the way he did. But she also hadn’t known what her sister was capable of—driving into a lake, saving herself, and then saving the man who had caused her so much pain.
No one seemed to believe Samantha except Isabelle. Her friends were put off because Samantha had ignored them throughout her whole relationship, and her distance from them meant she was capable of anything. They were never the best choice in friends, even before what had happened between Samantha and Alex. Even Isabelle had to admit that. Her sister deserved better.
The police waited for when Alex woke up to ask if he would be pressing charges against Samantha. They believed that all the bruises Samantha had received were from the accident that day at the lake. Alex always showed them he was a stand-up guy. Samantha was just deeply troubled and had a difficult letting go. He didn’t want to press charges because he felt she would be better learning from her mistakes. He kept telling the police he wished her well and he wished her peace.