I was six when I first met you.
Dressed in a garish pink dress and blonde hair tied into a pair of shiny pig-tails, I stood by the duck pond alone. I was too close to the water and the bank was muddy; rain had pummelled the ground for the whole of last night and the soil was beyond saturated, but since my Mummy was busy glaring into the distance, hunched on a bench facing away and puff-puff-puffing away at the cigarette clenched between her red lips and nobody was there to object - I happily rocked to and fro as the water lapped near my toes.
I let the mud coat the soles and sides of my new Velcro shoes as I loomed over the water, my hands clasped behind my back as I peered down into the murky depths of the pond. It was deep. I couldn't see the bottom for all the mud and sediment floating about the water. Now I was leaning in close enough to see three tiny fish flit about the surface of the water, mouths flopping open and closed as they gobbled up things I couldn't see.
The intrigue made me lean in closer.
I wanted to be a part of the quiet place full of bubbles and brimming with flitting silver fish. I wanted to side-step with the under-water crabs and frolic with the dolphins. And when the sharks came to ruin the fun, I would open my mouth really wide and bite them hard; just to show them how it felt. The pond presented me with something new and exciting, something beyond my chain-smoking mum or the cold air floating above the water. I wanted to be a part of it. I was mesmerised, entranced by the grey fish darting just below the surface. They seemed to hover, in their element, moving gracefully with such speed from one place to the next. Then, in a flash, the three fish disappeared back down in three different directions, all too fast for me to follow. I lurched forward, as if trying to catch something as elusive as the wind and in that moment, my feet lost purchase on the muddy bank, my arms wind-milled at my sides and I plunged head-first down into the icy embrace of the waiting body of water.
It was so cold that it was painful. I swallowed enough water to send a ship beneath the waves of the ocean as I descended deep into the pond, arms reaching high above my head and fingers forming hooked talons as I tried to find something to grip onto. I couldn't swim. My Dad had never considered it a worthy pastime and my mother didn't care enough to teach me how. I was gasping, no air reaching the fiery tissue of my lungs now. The water licked a path of flame down my throat on the way down. I opened my eyes and blinked in the dark. It was dirty water. I could only see the faint glimmer of sunlight high overhead, penetrating the thick veil of water and dancing upon the ripples my falling body and the wind had set into motion. The water pulsed around me as the thick pond sludge that lined the bottom embraced my feet and legs up to the knee with a satisfying slurp and gurgle.
I remember fighting. Fighting for air, fighting the slime tugging at my feet and fighting the dense body of water pushing upon me like a domineering monster, wishing only to crush me. I remember closing my eyes and wondering where all the crabs were, why the fish weren't calling for their mermaid friends to free me from the slimy hug of the pond mud. I wondered if anybody would ever notice if the water-world sucked me and my life under permanently.
Then you came.
You cut through the water like a knife, butter. Arms outstretched and eyes wide open in search of the girl you had seen fall, the splasher, the screamer - me. You caught a glimpse of my blue face and reaching arms, knee deep in cloying slime and mouth wide open in a soundless scream. You didn't seem to find plucking me out difficult, pulling hard on my arms forced the muddy killer squelching around my toes to release me with a disappointed sigh, as if it hated to see me leave so soon.
With your arms around my skinny torso, I was pulled out onto the slick bank; both of us trembling from cold. I spluttered dirty water up all over you, choking on the new sensation of air in my mouth. My mother was the only one shouting, the paramedics were the only ones making a fuss. You were calm, collected and at ease. Though even at six, I could see the alarm fighting the pride in your eyes.
