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Show her in my head: she was 5'7" with long black hair and wore a red Stanford sweatshirt even though she never went to Stanford and never would go there. She grew up in a small town and during the summer at night she drove to 7-11 at 2 AM to buy the Limited Time Only Slurpee. Sometimes she drove back home, sometimes on to the nearest lake. She knew the difference between jumping into a lake and a pool. I saw her look into the water, unconcerned with depth or temperature because at nighttime in the summer the whole world was like a large, cool lake. She kept her poise as she walked into the lake, one foot at a time, careful, delicacy in each step. Then she dove outward, face first, with a swish, kicking her way down through the water. She fell away from the surface for a while, then came back to it and began again. Anyone with those eyes would know how good it is to dive underground and let the water swallow you. And how good it feels to come back. I saw her dive into the water and return to the surface; dive under and return again. Then I walked back into Blake's room to finish vacuuming the flies. |
