Mikey and the Chickadee

Chapter 16 - Part 2

Achieving the requisite deep breaths became almost impossible to me now; several times, I drew in only a small amount of air before panic clamped my throat shut. Was he even capable of coming back for me? What if he only had enough strength left to get himself to shore? Finally I yelled out his name. "I can't make it," I told him, finding it painfully difficult to speak. Another few seconds passed before I could say, "Mikey, this is bad."

He said nothing and swam immediately back toward me. I heard myself make odd, new struggling sounds as I waited, just trying to hold my place in the water. Mikey's body cut like a blade through it. He reached me more quickly than I would have ever thought possible.

"It's okay," he said. "Don't worry. This isn't a big deal. Just hold my hand and swim with me, okay?"

I nodded silently and his hand tightened around my own. We swam together but I felt like little more than dead weight behind him.

"Let's just go with the north current, okay? We'll walk back down the shore."

"Okay," came my shaky voice. In that moment, Mikey was a force. It seemed I was dragged along by something much more massive, more powerful than his own body. But it was him, and in relation, I felt very small.

Through frustratingly little effort of my own, the distance to shore gradually diminished by half, and then half again.

"You've got this," Mikey said. He let go of my hand. "You're doing great."

I moved alongside him now. He held back, waiting for me; I could tell. I would have preferred it if he hadn't. He had told me he was cold, that he had wanted to return to land. I was disgusted with myself. Why should he have to remain longer in the water just because of my stupidity?

As we picked our way along the shore, occasionally stepping back into the shallows to circumvent batches of foliage, I told Mikey I was sorry.

He turned to me in genuine surprise. "What the hell are you sorry for?"

"You shouldn't have to watch over me like that."

He was quiet for a second, and then said, "We both kind of watch over each other. It's fine."

We arrived back at the beach in little time and sat close in the sand, still in our underwear. Not yet quite at rest, we breathed steadily together, in and out.

I felt more grateful for the sun in that moment than I had been in a very long time. But my gratitude for the unconcerned monument sitting next to me was something else. At first, after I had calmed down a bit, I couldn't think of a single thing to say to him. Eventually I said, "I guess I won't apologize. But you don't know how lucky I am that you were there. If I had been alone...I can't think about it." I turned to him. "Thank you."

He spread his knees slightly apart and smiled down at the sandy earth between them. "You would've made it."

I paused. "I really don't think so, Mikey."

"You were panicking," he said. "It's okay."

"Yeah, I was. And what if you hadn't been there?"

"You don't have to worry about it," he said. "That's just not how it happened."

Something about the way he stated this—maybe it was his shoulders lifting slightly, or his voice's stony descent—told me that every part of him was confident in this answer. Even if his logic had been unsound, I would have left it alone.

I scooted myself closer to him. Our shoulders pressed together. "Would you like to stay over at my place tonight?"

"I was hoping you would ask," he said.