The Reflection

It’s like an electric shock as I dip my toes into the water. The freezing cold temperatures snap me straight out of whatever I felt the minute before. Sometimes I wish the ocean were warmer. I imagine a beach in Honolulu, or maybe somewhere in California. But I’m not there.

The waves topple over each other, sending droplets of water toward me. I didn’t mind it, even if the weather was already cold and freezing. Even if my teeth were chattering. I love the ocean. The salt on my lips, the breeze in my hair, the vastness ahead of me.

It’s so terrifying, yet so extravagant at the same time. Even with the bag of weight on my back, I stand tall, trying to embrace every inch of the unknown, trying to feel everything.

It’s up to my ankles now, sometimes reaching my calves but it always goes back down. I think of the past–when I'd stand at the tide and run back as the water chased me, soaking into the sand under my feet.

And I remember…

I remember laughing hard with my best friend, our faces red and teary eyed with joy.

I think of the one restaurant I loved to go to. The one I was always left with a full belly. The one with the creaky floors and the seats that slid–but I didn’t mind. My hunger was satiated.

And I think about the other kind of hunger, one that food could never fill. The one for peace. The craving that could only be filled by sitting still, toes buried in the sand, watching the horizon.

Every time I’ve found myself here, I’ve felt full.

But I do not feel full today.

The water is above my knees now.

I think of my mother, my dear mother. Her hands smelled like lavender and salt as she pushed back my hair from my eyes. ‘There. Now you can see the world,’ She’d say.

My brother, the one I chased through and through, digging holes so deep they almost touched the other side of the world.

I think of my friends–the ones who took my best pictures by the water. The photos I still show off. Still proud.

I shut my eyes tightly, holding back the ache.

I don’t wanna be alone. I don’t wanna be alone anymore.

The water is up to my stomach.

I breathe in. And out.

Maybe I should turn back. Maybe this isn’t the right moment. But what would be? How long have I been waiting for the perfect moment to feel whole again?

I try to hold on to that feeling. That shock that always pulled me back to life.

But now, it pulls something else. My life is flashing behind my eyes. Memories spill down my cheeks, warm against the cold air.

It’s up to my neck now and I try to keep calm. I try to repeat the mantra that once the pain is over, everything will feel better. Everything will be okay.

I think of the sky, the trees. Everything that I loved. Everything that I'll never see again.

And I tell myself it's okay. It’s going to be worth it.

I whisper to myself: Let go.

And I do, and the weight pulls me under as I let the waves sweep me into the unknown.

.The water feels thicker like ink. It turns darker, swallowing the sky I was able to see just moments ago. It feels violent and my muscles seize. My lungs scream for air and my chest seems to feel as if it is about to collapse.

It feels as if I am in another body. My vision blurs, darkening around the edges, and there is a loud roaring in my ears.

The cold devours everything, my breath, my thoughts, my name. The world goes distant–not quiet–just muffled. I feel the pain dulling now. I feel that maybe I'm going to be okay.

I feel tired. I feel heavy.

And suddenly, I feel warmth.

A pulse beneath my skin telling me to wake up.

Wake up.

The heaviness dissolves, and for just a moment, I swear that I can feel air once again.

Slowly, very slowly, I open my eyes.

The sky is too bright. The sand beneath me is soft, and my lips taste of gloss instead of salt. I roll onto my side, coughing up the water in my lungs. I gasp, my throat raw, as if it’s being scraped.

My head aches, and I slowly sit up, the beach stretching out before me. It looks lighter. More dreamlike.

When I glance down, my hands stop me cold. They’re not mine.

My nails are clean, manicured. My wrists are slimmer. A gold ring glimmers in the light–engraved with some name.

How am I alive? Or maybe I am dead.

That is what I assume until I catch my reflection in the ocean. I shudder, my breath catching in my throat and my heart beating.

That’s not my face. That’s not even close.

I scramble to my feet, stumbling toward the tide as nausea rolls through me. The beach is endless and quiet, like some fever dream. There is only the sound of waves.

I fall back down to my knees, rolling to my side. There is something in my pocket. I reach in and grab it, feeling the familiar texture of paper. I slowly pull it out, nervous to see.

It is a note.

“Do you see her?” It asks.

Maybe I am in a nightmare. Maybe this is some sort of thing that happens when you die. You’re stuck in a nightmare forever.

Is this my punishment?

I feel myself sweating. The sun is too hot, beating down on me.

I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be alone anymore.

Why am I still here?

My heart hammers as I turn toward the ocean. But it doesn’t look like water anymore. It looks darker. Like a void.

And then faintly I see movement. I see someone standing at the edge of the water. Holding a bag. Someone there in the exact spot I had drowned.

And she’s wearing my face.