Swim |Klance

pushing boundaries just a bit

There wasn't a single day when I think back of my near death experience. I have so many questions. How did I get there? Was I alone? Why can't I remember anything before heading out into sea. 

An interviewer came to my house one day. He had the same questions I did. 

"Who were you with? Did you come to the beach alone? Do you recall the person who saved you? Why did you go so far out into sea?"

I couldn't give him the answers he wanted because I didn't have them. I suggest him to ask the people who were at that beach. He gave me his card and told me to call him if I recall anything at all. "Sure thing, Mr. Stan."

Why so interested?

---

I've been seeing a therapist for a week. The doctor recommended it, a way to reconnect to water. 

My process has been steady. Im showering every other day, each time with the same unease feeling. 

I walking the my therapist's waiting room. Despite the room being empty, it was not quiet. I wait anxiously as the clock's tics tick louder. Patient is not my strong suit at all. If I'm the only one in the waiting room, why is the session so long? I pull out my phone. Dead. 

I got up to walk around and view the paintings hanged on the wall. A certain painting definite caught my attention. Its an ocean wave of roses. 

"Keith Kogane!" I turn around and greet my therapist. 

"Good Evening, Mr. Smythe."

"Please come in! Sorry for the long wait, you know how patients can get. Besides, I'm sure your gadgets entertain you long enough."

I sat in my original seat. A white recliner with red trimmings. 

"Do you want something to drink? Perhaps water?"

"Uh no thanks. I'm no thirsty." 

"Whatever you need Keith." Smythe writes down on his clipboard. Crap. Did I give a wrong answer. Maybe I should request a glass of water after all. But that would be rude of me. "Ugh"

"You good Keith?" 

"Yeah, I'm just-- tired."

"Did you get a good rest my boy?"

"I guess." I yawn. Smythe continues to write on his clipboard. Crap.

"Did you shower today Keith?" 

"No."

"Alright, may I ask when was the last time you took one?"

"Last Tuesday."

"Keith. I'm afraid to say that we're not making any progress at all since you first spoke with me. Perhaps it's time to push the boundaries a bit."

I readjust my seating position. "W-what do you mean?" Symthe took of his glasses and put it in his jacket. Without a reply, he got up from his desk and seat next to me in a blue recliner. 

"Keith, I need you to be honest for me, have you ever thought of swimming again?"

"OF COURSE NOT! I-I mean, what kind of questio-. Sorry, I don't think-.... No. No, I have not"

"Keith, I understand that phobias take time to overcome. But I know you have the strength to overcome it. You told me, you were once a professional pilot at the age of 13! You're smart, fast, and strong enough to continue to fight this battle and say Not Today!" 

"I don't know Coran. May I call you that? Anyway. I just want to be normal again, I want to be able to enjoy walks on the beach without fearing the water. But to swim in those waves? It's not gonna happen."

"Who said anything about waves? No, instead you'll overcome your fear in the community pool. There you will be trained by the top swimmer, Takashi Shirogane! He's really nice dude and great swimmer! What do you say Keith?"

Sigh. "For how long?"

"That's it Keith! Classes are from 10am to 3pm, Mondays through Thursdays.  Now Keith, if its ever to much for you, don't be afraid to quit."

"Sure thing Coran."

"I'm very proud of you." Coran's phone rang. He reached for it and put it on speaker. "Symthe, your 12 o'clock is back."

I left his room and caught a glimpse of his 12 o'clock. They were viewing the same painting I was earlier. 

"Nice painting, huh?"

No reply.

I didn't think much of it and walked out of the building.