I give her a flat stare. “Thanks, Elise.”
“Yes, yes, happy to help.” She laughs as if she really does think she helped. She gets up, gathers her stuff, and moves to the chair right next to mine.
“Don’t you have some parties to attend? Maybe a photoshoot for some influencer’s Instagram account? I’m sure there are billionaires with yachts you haven’t tried to sleep with somewhere out there.”
“Very funny. Don’t let your father hear you say that, he’s a jealous man.”
“Gross.”
“Truth is, sweetie, I’m a bit between gigs at the moment. My bestie Shaylene’s pissed at me because I drank this old crappy bottle of wine her husband’s been saving for some special occasion, and my other bestie Jenny-Anne’s off in New Zealand with this delicious rugby player, so I’m stuck back here in boring little Phoenix.”
“Sorry to hear it.”
“Well, sweetie, it’s not your fault.” She sighs and puts a forearm across her face. “We all must sacrifice for the Famiglia.”
I snort to myself and shake my head as I crack open the spine of a paperback. It’s The Collected Stories of Amy Hempel, a writer an old teacher of mine recommended back in school. The way her sentences jump and meander never fails to relax me.
Except the constant tapping of Elise’s fingernails against her screen is like daggers to the back of my skull.
“Can I ask you something?” I say after about a half hour of trying to read, failing, and imagining what it would be like if I dumped Elise somewhere alone in the middle of the desert without her phone or water.
“Sure, sweetie.” She doesn’t even look up from whatever she’s doing.
“You said something about Papa the other day. You told me not to mention it to anyone.”
She stops typing. For one second, her face is twisted in a strange grimace, but it quickly disappears as she beams at me.
“What, that? It was nothing. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
I tilt my head, frowning. “But you asked if Papa did this to me.” I touch my bruised throat. “Why was that your first thought?”
Her smile gets bigger like she’s desperately trying to mask how she really feels and I get a strange spiking sense of dread in the pit of my stomach. Why did I bring this up? The dream plays in my head, and that memory—the one I won’t ever face—is like a black toxic cloud in a deep corner of my mind.
My ears buzz and ring and I feel dizzy. My heartrate jumps and my hands tremble.
“Everything’s fine,” Elise says as if from a distance.
I feel like I might be sick. I stand up, wanting to get away from her in case I puke, but I stumble a bit. The ringing in my ears gets louder, and it’s like the concrete’s floating in the ocean. What’s the memory I won’t let myself remember? Why do I keep dreaming about my father strangling people to death?
And why did Elise wonder if that’s what he did to me?
It’s too much. It’s way too much. I stagger, dizzy, ringing, unable to think, unable to breathe. I’m dimly aware of having a panic attack in the smallest, most rational corner of my brain.
Elise’s talking, but I can’t hear her. She says something as I stagger toward the pool—
And lose my footing.
The water greets me like a lover. It’s cold and gentle around my body as I plunge down. The light’s better under here, so much smoother, though I’m reminded of my father’s office in my dreams.
It’s a strange comfort.
Like the dream finally made itself real.
I sink deeper and deeper.
The ringing in my ears isn’t so bad down here.
I could breathe if I really wanted—fill my lungs with chlorinated water and wait for the black to come and take me.
To sweep me away from this nightmare.
A splash nearby. Hands grab me and haul me to the surface. Elise’s face, wild with shock and fear as she tows me to the side of the pool and shoves me up against the ladder.
“What the hell are you doing, Karah?” she shouts at me. “What the hell was that?”
“I’m sorry,” I sputter and spit out some water. “I’m sorry, I’m okay. I’m okay now.” I take rapid deep breaths and the ringing in my ears begins to recede as my head clears enough to think.
My god, was I really going to let myself drown?
“You were at the bottom for like thirty seconds. You fell in like you had a freaking stroke.” Elise’s makeup is running down her face in raccoon-rivulets and her hair’s a soaking wreck.
I smile as I hold myself up on the side of the pool. At least I know she cares enough about my life to get her hair wet.
“I just had a dizzy spell. I guess I stood up too fast is all.”