𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬

forty-five.

My arms spray out to either side as I suspend in ocean.

Sunshine warms my face while my eyes shut, soaking in both the UV and the salt.

Suspension into nothingness is the kind of peace I sought often in my dips.

In water we can feel weightless.

Feel like nothing.

A palm slips past my waist while another touches my thigh.

Treading water beside me, disturbing the small bit of silence is Anaca.

I managed to get him into the water, despite his objections.

My eyes roll to the side, finding him staring down at me.

The sun hides most of its brightness behind his head, so I am not completely blinded by another other than those pale, pale blues of his.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs softly. "I've never had to chance to notice how serene you are in the water."

"No," I agree. "You were always too busy trying to rip me from it."

"It was never my intension to rip away your peace, Woody," he says. "But I couldn't let you freeze to death or drown."

"I wouldn't have drowned."

"Maybe not on purpose."

I touch his pectoral and he moves closer, allowing my arm to wrap around his mid-section. His body still hot even in the cool water.

"I meant it when I told you I can hold my breath a really long time," I assure him. "I practiced for years."

"Out here? Alone?"

His features pickle with apprehension.

"Sometimes."

"The more I learn of your childhood, the more it amazes me you're still alive."

"A lot of people have had it much worse than I."

"That doesn't discredit your experience."

I inhale, the scent of seawater and sun hitting my nostrils. It's my second favorite scent in the world.

I right myself, pressing my chest against his. The water might be the only place in the world that we are the same height.

He instantly curls me into his arms, letting his powerful legs take the brunt of keeping him at the surface.

"It's okay to acknowledge that your parents didn't do the best."

"She did the best she could," I feel as if I must defend her.

His cheeks soften. "That may be and I don't mean to diminish your love for your mother, but you can still love her and know you deserved so much better."

I think I'm holding my breath as I stare at him.

Did I deserve a better childhood?

Probably.

But it was mine.

And there is a nagging that lands on the other end of probably. Someone with my wiring... do they deserve any better than they got?

I'm not so sure.

"Everyone has something," I touch his cheek. "Maybe I should have blamed her for letting me slip through the cracks, but I'm glad I didn't. I grew up without all that anger, I grew up with understanding."

"That wasn't your job," he squeezes me. "You were robbed of being a child, Woody."

"Don't start that again."