Alas, I Cannot Swim (On Hold)

Chapter (2)

We both stood, eyes unwavering. He then proceeded to turn the corners of his mouth upward in a smile. As if he knew something I did not. 

"How is the other side faring you on this fine day?" The boy shouted over the roaring of the rain. Peculiar...

"Well. Thank you?" I replied. 

He nodded his head. "I see. You must not understand what is really going on here."

"No, I daresay not." I said, laughing humourlessly. 

"Come to the other side, you shall see what I mean."

"I cannot swim. My father told me to stay away from the water, water in general."

"I see, well then your father is a wise man. I may never return to this place, this could be your only chance to come with me. Your world must not be near as fun as mine. Adventure lies beyond this river." The boy said, plainly, shrugging his shoulders.

"What ever do you mean?"

"My offer stands still. I will be back tomorrow, whether you come or not." And he left, behind the house across the river before I could ask him another question. 

Surely this boy is deranged. What could he have meant that adventure lies beyond this river? It is just a house and a forest. And what of my father being wise? Everyone believes him to be crazy. Perhaps he is just misunderstood like the boy. 

I shivered, beginning to feel the effect of being completely wet. A voice was shouting my name from behind me in the storm. Lora was running towards me, furiously attempting to keep her hat over her head, but the wind blew it off anyway. 

"Sela! Please, come home. Mum is very angry with you, she is worried."

"Pah! Worried about me ruining my clothes is all." I spat back.

"Sela, she will be angry with me as well if you do not come with me. Please, we can come tomorrow and have a lovely picnic if the rain lets up." Lora's blue-green eyes begged.

I sighed, giving in, and walked in the direction home. 

"Thank you Bea-" 

"Do not call me that."

"Sorry, I forgot."

She looked defeated. When Lora could first begin to speak, she tried ever so dearly to pronounce my name. Instead, she said something like 'Sela' (See-lah) and has called me that on occasion since. Recently I have asked her to only call me that because I am tired of mother's use of my real name. Mother practically hisses it in a very condescending way. 

 Lora was distressed about walking in the rain, but I just let it beat down on me, soaking it in so to speak. I opened the front door and stepped inside the foyer. Ida, our Irish maid, rushed over to us with towels and kneeled at our feet to take off our shoes. 

The click-clack of mum's heels could be heard from anywhere in our house, as she rushed over to us. I winced at her angered face, anticipating her attack on me. 

"How dare you." She said, with the most venom I have heard in anyone's voice before. Those were her favorite three words to use with me.

Mother backhanded me across the face. But I did not flinch, I knew it was coming and I took it anyway. She went on to practically scream at me about how just about everything I did in life was a mistake. And then, the one thing she said that really surprised me, was that the day I turned eighteen, I would be married. 

My mother already had an entire list of suitable men to take me away from her. Shock was prominent on my face as she told me how I was to live my life, and I was going to be out of her sight in the care of a sane enough man to handle me. With my towel still wrapped around me, I ran upstairs to my room and shut the door. 

I reached into my closet to pull out my suitcase, opening it and tossing it on my bed. My hair dripped everywhere as I rummaged through my dresser, pulling out clothes for both cold and heat, and bringing a blanket too. After squishing in all of my important belongings, I took the painting of my father down from my wall, and slid it out of the frame. With one last look at the water-colour on a thin paper canvas, I laid it on the very top of my suitcase.

Tomorrow, I am leaving. I will go with that boy across the river. Maybe it sounds crazy, but I have to leave here. My reasoning in this perfectly irrational behaviour is best explained by my feeling inside of me.

My head tells me that this is all ridiculous. But my heart? It flutters at the thought of leaving this place of forlorn memories that I have spent my life. To leave would ease my sorrows, though I would not know where to go from here. Everyone knows me, even the ferrymen. If I left, it would not go unnoticed. 

And here this boy comes, offering me just the most minute piece of freedom, and yet, I know nothing of him. His name, his intentions and what ever in the world he meant about 'worlds' as if he was not in mine. And yet, ever since I was small, that river has been calling to me. Father was not insane, he knew there was something especially dangerous about it, not just for fear of drowning. I will find out what it is.

People would think me to be just as crazy, but when have I ever done anything for myself? When have I done anything irrational besides fleeing to the river? Never, not on this God-forsaken island. Tomorrow I go, and I will not come back.

Lora came into my room, with dry clothes on. 

"I am sorry, Sela. I wish I could help you." She sat on my bed and wrapped an arm around me.

"Lora I am leaving. Hear me out, please." 

I told her of my encounter with the strange boy. At first, she thought that he must be deranged. But then, out of some miracle, she believed that I would find no more happiness letting mum push me around. 

"I want to come with you." She said.

"You are only fourteen! And he said there was danger, I cannot take you dear, you will be fine here without me. Much less stress from mother." The look in her eyes was that same begging look from earlier. She always made me give in.

"Alright, pack your bags. We will leave tomorrow when mother goes to town in the afternoon."