Page 17 of Tides That Bind

He doesn’t just scream. Heshrieks. But I’ll rip his damn body in two if necessary. Because Nate is so great the world only needs a piece of him. It just needs to be the piece where his heart still beats.

But my attempt is futile and I can’t hear these torturous noises anymore.

“Break. The. Window,” Nate snarls. “Break it and get out of here.”

I go to lift him again, swallowing water as my face tips down. “No.”

I wish his body felt lighter under the water. That’s the way it should be. We move at ease no matter how heavy our hearts are. It’s why I love the water in the first place. And now it’s about to take the one person in the world who showed me how good itcan be to just ride a wave and it’s going to trap and suffocate him and stealeverything.

With my face angled up to the ceiling taking in the last pocket of air, I find Nate’s hips again beneath the water, and that’s when I don’t even realize he’s stopped fighting me and grabbed the baton.

“You’re gonna be okay, Riley.”

In an instant, I’m screaming, but it’s muffled, muted, and utterly meaningless. That’s because I’m entirely under the water which has now rushed into the car through the passenger side window.

The flashlight falls and all I can see of Nate is his crushed leg as I struggle against him, waiting. I’m waiting wait for a dose of the super-human adrenaline you’re supposed to get when death threatens to knock early. But it’s astruggleto both fight Nate and hold onto him. He always overpowered me, as kids, teenagers, and of course after he joined the Marines. My strength, it dwindles, and I’m desperate for the same amount of adrenaline that pumps through his veins, the one giving him the power to peel my finger back, breaking the bone and my hold on him

I know, as he pushes me through the window, my chest lit by a fire I’m desperate to harness and fight with, the reason Nate is stronger in this moment is because he’s the one who is going to die.

I’ll never forgive the world for not letting it be me.

THEN

Flinching,I rub my very pregnant belly after a sharp kick to my side. I had told the studio I’ve been giving yoga classes at I had planned to keep teaching until I couldn’t anymore. But today, my feet ache, even when I sit down. My back pain is at an all-time high and I’m not so sure how I’m supposed to tell my students to breathe when I can’t thanks to the monstrosity of my boobs and baby constricting my lungs.

I take out my phone, texting another teacher to see if she’ll be up for taking my class this evening.

Another kick. I hiss.

I also ask her about tomorrow morning.

“Here you go.”

I take the bucket of paint. “It’s Linen-White, right?”

The employee seems to have lost his patience with me after reviewing all the samples a second time. The last trim color I decided on—Chantilly Lace—was too yellow and I’m wondering if the guy just mixed the wrong color entirely.

The employee folds his arms across his chest. “Mixed it myself.”

That’s what I wasafraid of.

“Thanks.”

I bump into another waiting customer. “Oh, goodness,” she says. “From behind, I didn’t know you were pregnant. You’re all belly. Bet you’re due any day now. Doesn’t look like there’s anywhere else for that little one to go.”

There are things they don’t warn women who are five-five about before they decide to have a baby with a man who is six-five. After the halfway point, everyone is going to assume you’re about to pop.

“I still have another six weeks.”

The baby doesn’t need to go anywhere. He just needs to stay in until his due date. Because Nate’s six month deployment will end in four weeks and four days. I wonder then, if I’ll be able to breathe even just a little better because the anxiety of him in Afghanistan will at least be gone.

I waddle out of Home Depot, already pouting about having to be outside of the air conditioning even just walking to my car. It’s unusually hot for November, even for southern California.

“Got an umbrella? It’s bad out there already.” The Home Depot employee says, checking my receipt.

I sigh. I’ll get drenched, but at least the rain will cool things off.

But I get more than drenched. I nearly drown getting to my car because it turns out you can’t jog with a watermelon strapped to your middle. When I finally make it in and shut my door, I’m panting and pull out my phone like I basically do every fifteen minutes to see if there’s a message from Nate.

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