Page 7 of Beyond the Stroke

Getting out to the rocky land mass isn’t as challenging as I thought it would be. By the time I climb up onto the rock, I’m feeling more confident about this whole thing. I just have to make it back to shore.

On the rock, I take in a slow, deep breath to assess my body. I’m all too familiar with the triggers of my asthma—cold water, salty air, and physical strain. And this scenario is the trifecta.

You can do this,I tell myself, hoping to will my desire into being. It hasn’t helped my financial stress yet, but if I can make it to shore with no issues and collect this money, then things are going to be better. For now.

I pull on the tail, settling it above my hips, then fix my wig, and wait for Rich’s signal.

Except, I can’t see shit without my glasses. I squint, hoping to locate Rich on the beach, but now there are multiple people and from this distance it’s hard to tell which one he is.

But then I see a flurry of activity by the gates of the beach club.That must be the girls coming out to watch.

I throw up my arm to wave. It’s been eight years since I gave a pageant wave but muscle memory in my arm and hand pull it off seamlessly.

When all the activity on the beach settles, I decide it’s time to make my entrance. Slowly, I shimmy down the rock, but the plastic fin at the end of my tail is slick and provides no grip. I’m close to clearing the rock, but right before I plunge into the water, I slip and scrape my arm on the rugged surface.

The sharp sting of the salt water against the scrape has me wincing.

You know what’s harder than swimming with two legs for this mediocre swimmer? Swimming with a nylon mermaid tail wrapped around those unskilled legs. Mermaids are supposed to be good swimmers, you know, because of their tail and fin. But this fin isn’t functional. It’s a sparkly purple and pink bedazzled fin that catches the afternoon’s sun rays perfectly but offers no aid in actual swimming.

Also, I don’t know how water works. Not in the ocean wave kind of sense. One minute, I’m making headway, the next I’mback where I started. At this pace, it’ll be dusk before I make it to shore. Oh, and that whole waving and looking graceful thing Rich mentioned? That’s not happening at all. I can barely keep my head above water, let alone manage an elegant wave at the same time.

It’s hard to focus on swimming when there are so many thoughts swirling in my head.

I’m risking my life for three hundred dollars.

If this tail is ruined the costume shop isn’t going to give me my deposit back.

Once I sink to the depths of the Atlantic, who will look after Edgar?

Breathe, Summer.

But it’s the reminder to do the one thing that my body sometimes just can’t do properly in this type of situation that has me panicking.

My chest tightens, making it impossible to get a full breath.

My breaths become shallow, making it impossible for my lungs to deliver the much-needed oxygen that my muscles are begging for. With heavy limbs, I tilt my head up toward the sky, gasping for air that refuses to enter my body.

I’m sinking and there’s nothing I can do. Even the octopus wrangling a tentacle around me knows I’m done for.

But it doesn’t yank me under; instead, it lifts me up.

That’s when I realize it’s not an octopus, it’s a solid, human arm wrapped around my chest. And suddenly my head is higher above the water.

“I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay,” the deep, soothing voice assures me. It’s so kind and unassuming, I want to wrap myself inside it and take a nap. It’s the type of gentle, calming voice that could lull you to sleep on one of those meditation sleep apps. Or at the very least make you feel safe during a bad storm.

I’m no longer drowning, but I’m still fighting to breathe.

All I can do is sputter and attempt to calm my breathing as the man pulls me along. He’s making far better progress and it’s not long before I feel the sandy beach beneath my back.

On shore, the coughing begins. It’s my body’s desperate attempt to reset my airflow. I’m gasping for the tiniest breath.

I want to move to my hands and knees but this damn tail won’t let me.

There’s commotion around me. Movement and voices, yet I can’t focus on any of it.

I squeeze my eyes tightly, trying to expel the remaining water before slowly blinking it away. Finally, my eyes open to reveal the source of peace. The man kneeling in front of me.

Oh,wow.

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