The Selkie's Daughter

Trigger warning: Trauma/fear of drowning “Get her head wet!” demanded the swimming teacher from across the pool. The teenaged assistant looked vaguely apologetic as she unceremoniously dunked a sobbing me. I clung to her, desperately, refusing to go under, but I was too young and small to resist for long. Water filled my nose, my mouth, my ears; I was certain I would drown. The assistant hauled me up, a choking gasping mess, eyes burning. And so the lesson continued, with no more success than that.

I despised swimming lessons. The reeking chlorine left my eyes red and sore for hours afterwards. Water clogged my ears, requiring a night with the hot water bottle to ease the pain. I’d inevitably develop a vicious sunburn despite all the sunscreen Mom could slather on me. Most of all, I hated the shrill voice of the instructor insisting I be dunked repeatedly. Remembering the terror of it all makes me wonder if I drowned in a past life.

And my animosity wasn’t limited to pools. Ponds and lakes were worse, if you could believe that. The water was black and mysterious with a bottom that squished unpleasantly between your toes. Unindentified objects, hopefully fish, bumped into you or took an inquisitive nibble. I’ve never been fond of the ocean for the same reasons, plus sharks, or waves that knock one down.

When I finally refused to return to lessons, my long-suffering mother did not argue. She knew her stubborn daughter. I had survived one season and could be reasonably trusted not to die uselessly at sea, or so I thought. Truthfully, I could do little more than flail about in a given direction. Mom, however, had a plan.

A few years later, we had a membership at a gym. That gym had an indoor pool. Mom would take us, my brother and me, on the odd weekend. My brother splashed and played like a retriever puppy. Mom glided through the water like a selkie; like she was born to it. I would sit on the edge, reluctantly dipping my toes in the water. The smell of the chlorine sent shivers up my spine.

Mom insisted that I learn to swim. She didn’t openly volunteer to teach me, but somehow I found myself in the water. Both my grandmother and my mother had been scout leaders and had taught generations of girls to camp and swim. I might have been the most difficult student Mom had ever handled, but I was far from the first.

We started with the backstroke – my face stayed dry and I stayed reasonably calm. Soon I was swimming the length of the pool while my brother watched. Success was intoxicating and soon I was ready for another challenge. Sidestroke then, but there was a hiccup. Breathing for the sidestroke involved my face in the water. I learned the stroke but could not breathe right. Failure. Same with the breaststroke and the crawl. Any stroke that involved my face in the water caused instant panic. I was that little girl again, firmly convinced I was dying. I would gasp, choke, flail and sink.

Mom eventually helped me out of the pool, promising that we would try again, but we never did. Life got in the way, we cancelled that gym membership, and I went to college. I never forgot what my mother tried to teach me, but I never tried again. Not until I met Rick.

I was fresh out of college when I met Rick. He was older, reasonably handsome, and, as it turned out, deceptively charming. He asked me out and I, being young and foolish, agreed. For the first date, he planned a canoe trip down a local river. I was hesitant about the idea, being afraid of the water, but I fancied Rick liked me so of course all would be well.

The trip started off uneventfully. I shared a canoe with Rick, and a little girl he said was his niece. Emma. We sailed along the river, Emma chatting happily. The current was moderate, but Rick and I were handling it well enough. Emma couldn’t have been more than ten and she was very excitable. She had to be reminded several times to stay seated in the boat.

We passed a landing station and I became concerned. I had thought it would be a short excursion, as Emma was getting bored and I wasn’t sure where the next station was. When Emma stood again, reaching for something in the water, the canoe rocked dangerously, I gripped the sides and shifted my weight, hoping to hold on and steady it. I asked her to sit, yet again, but Rick snapped at me and told me to leave her alone. Sure enough, she lost her balance, the canoe tipped and we all splashed into the water.

I fought panic as I tried to get my bearings. Rick was cursing, trying to right the canoe, but I was suddenly worried about Emma. I heard shrieking rapidly disappearing downstream. Catching sight of her blaze orange life vest, I tried to swim towards her. I knew that the half-hearted flailing I was doing was not going to get me anywhere fast. If I really wanted to get to Emma, I would have to get my face wet. The old paralyzing terror welled up and for a heart-stopping moment I could not move. Our map, now well out of reach downstream, had indicated rapids lay further down the river. The thought of Emma reaching those galvanized me.

I dove, face in the water, swimming like Mom had taught me; swimming for all I was worth. Thankfully, I was swimming with the current and was able to catch the collar of Emma’s life vest. She fought me at first, spitting and flailing but I kept her head above water until she realized I was not trying to drown her. Then she clung to me and dragged us both down.

Kicking hard against the river bottom, I forced our heads above the surface. I held onto her with one arm while trying to pry her loose with my free hand. “Relax, I got you,” I hissed into her ear. We were still caught in the current, though I was fighting it. “I can get us to shore. Go limp.”

Amazingly, she heard me and went limp. I fixed my grip on the back of her collar, reoriented her on her back and began to drag her toward shore, swimming as hard as I could. I swam at an angle against the current, aiming for the edge of the water.

It was hard going. The river felt impossibly wide, even though I knew better. It was an illusion caused by the current and my own creeping exhaustion. It was also cold, which began to sap my strength.

A tree loomed ahead, leaning over the river. Its roots were thick and jutting into the water, making them perfect for grabbing. When we got close enough, I draped the two of us over the thickest of the roots so I could catch my breath. I held onto Emma, who wasn’t looking good. She was trying to speak, but her teeth were chattering fiercely. I knew I had to get her out of the water.

Suddenly, Rick appeared, with the newly righted canoe. “Emma!” He reached a paddle towards her. “Grab on and I’ll pull you in.”

“Daddy!” she dropped her grip on the tree roots, reaching for him. She almost went sailing away again, but for the fact that I had her hard by the collar.

I met Rick’s eyes, mouthing “Daddy?” He had the grace to look sheepish. Shaking my head, I helped Emma to the paddle and steadied the canoe as Rick pulled her in. Getting myself back into the canoe proved difficult, but not impossible and eventually we were all three in, drenched to the skin.

The other paddle had fallen victim to the capsizing, so I was largely useless on the way to the nearest landing. Emma was clearly unhappy, as was Rick. It was a quiet trip. At least now Emma was sitting still.

We had tipped downstream of the landing, so the return took longer than expected, but soon enough we arrived. The rangers weren’t happy to see soaked patrons and after seeing us warmed and cared for, kept us some time with questions and paperwork. Rick, clearly just wanting to be done with this date, got terse and snappish with them. I didn’t see the point in impeding the process and cooperated. As far as I was concerned, the date had ended when we went in the water. The rest of this was just icing on the cake.

Eventually we were taken to our cars. Rick put Emma in her booster seat and came around to see me off. I pointedly looked at his left hand, noting the tan line on his ring finger. Sheepish again, he ran that hand through his damp hair and shrugged.

I shook my head again. Rick was charming, but I wasn’t in the mood for a liar. I told him goodbye and watched him drive off. Then I fished my car keys out of the waterproof bag around my neck and got in my own car. The bag had been a gift from my mother before her death, a few months ago – just in case, she had said. I had laughed, swearing I wanted nothing to do with the water, and yet here I was. I was suddenly grateful for her survival instincts.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes, expecting the old terror to hit me. To my surprise, my heart rate stayed calm. I swam. When it mattered most, I had managed to overcome that fear. I had a feeling that I would never again be so frightened of the water. My mother would have been proud.