Hold Me Close

salt air

I gasp for air as the piles, so carefully stacked up, come crashing down into a mess of everything. My hands shake – my whole body is shaking – and I try to steady myself by grabbing onto Mum's jumper but it only serves to whiten my knuckles and make me feel light-headed.

My throat dries, and the patch grows bigger and bigger until my gasps are in vain and I absolutely cannot breathe.

I try to speak to tell her that it's all wrong, but the words fall short and I know there are tears burning down my face. They wash over my skin and they drop onto my t-shirt, but there is nothing Mum can do to stop them.

She stands but I still clutch onto her. I don't want her to leave me. She can't do that again.

"Fleur," Mum says calmly, but there are invisible hands over my ears and the sound is wobbly and muffled. "Darling, lean forward."

I shake my head.

She presses a hand to my back, guiding me into the position, but the room spins as I lurch my head between my knees and something tells me I'm going to be sick.

"Deep breaths, okay?" My chest opens up just a bit. I breathe in. "That's it. Keep going."

I go again.

The air rushes in and out like it cannot decide where to be. I slow the gasp. I ignore the thump in my ears or the pins digging into every millimetre of my skin.

"That's it," Mum repeats as it starts to subside.

But, when the panic has abandoned me too, I am left in my head, standing amongst everything that has just toppled, trying to figure out where to start. What can I fix and what has been broken beyond repair?

Mum sits me up.

Physiotherapists are horribly easy to talk to. They learn how to get you to relax, and they have tongues like honey that are just too enticing. And so she asks, to loosen the tension in my shoulders and jaw, what I am so scared of. Hands over her eyes, she wanders blindly into the answer, not knowing if what just happened will repeat itself again as I consider it, still stranded in a sea of destruction. 5

I suppose we are back to where we left off. An hour before that flight, I ended up in the same position. The question then was stupid to ask, because of course she knew what was terrifying me: she was moving away. Now, it is different. Everything has changed, and I don't know if that is something I am equipped to cope with.

"I have fallen in love," I croak, because the dryness in my throat has not been moistened though I have swallowed the lump of tears back many times. "I don't know what to do."

━━━━━━━

The crew flies out the next day.

There's one week of the World Cup remaining, and they want to get some 'wind-down' footage to serve as a balance between the tournament and season. I think they also enjoy following me to the beach every morning, entirely prepared to feel the sand beneath their feet as I dive through the waves, hoping the water cleanses my mind.

Sand in the camera becomes the most of my worries as I try to separate Fleur de Voss from the girl who visits her mother from the Netherlands. The two are both me, but the locals here, who have known me far longer than the world ever has, care more about rugby and netball and the smile on my face returning.

I am happy here.

Mum's dog, Daisy, joins me in the car as I drive to Torquay, stealing Jaimie's X7 so that I can fit a surfboard in the boot. The crew follows behind me, letting me lead the way.