Underwater, Emeralds breathe

By Zenia

 

I thought that going surfing with his friends would be good for him.  For days I tried talking to him, telling him that it wasn’t his fault that Mom died.  He wanted to believe me, those blue eyes of his wide and hopeful.  He wanted to, but wasn’t quite making it.

 

So when they called I told him to go.  I told him.  Because maybe they could make him smile.  Maybe they could make him stop hurting so much. 

 

Maybe I could stop hurting so much.  Wanting so much. 

 

It was nice just to sit in the quiet of the house and just stare at the wall.  Not thinking, not hurting, not wanting to reach out and touch him and make sure he was real and not some ghost that looked like my brother.

 

I didn’t have time to hurt.  I was too damn busy making sure AJ wasn’t gonna explode from anger and that the bills were paid on time and the groceries bought.

 

And I couldn’t—couldn’t let myself ache for the road.  It was an itching that started in my palms and the bottoms of my feet.  Then it made its way to my lungs, making it hard to breathe till finally I was walking away just so I could live.  And I was thinking all this, and then the phone rang.

 

I picked it up.  Picked it up not imagining, not…

 

“Richard Simon?”  It was a woman’s voice on the other end.  Soft voice, sexy.

 

“Yeah, this is Rick Simon.” None of my girl friends ever called me Richard.

 

“Your brother is AJ Simon?”

 

My mouth went dry. “That’s right.”

 

“I’m Nurse Brockwell at Community Hospital.  Your brother was admitted to the emergency room an hour ago.”

 

“What?  Is he all right?” I had to remind myself to breathe.

 

“He’s fine Mr. Simon.  He just had an accident while he was surfing.  When you get to the hospital the doctor can give you more information.”

 

I swallowed hard. “Right.  Right, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

 

And I was gone.  My hands were shaking so hard that it took me five minutes before I could get the keys into the ignition.  All I could think was that the nurse said he was fine.  He was fine.  But fine could mean anything so long as he was breathing.  It could mean that he had broken every bone in his body, that he was blind, that he was in a coma.

 

So long as he was alive.

 

I was almost in tears by the time I got to the hospital.

 

I busted through the doors of the emergency room and almost got run over by a man in a wheelchair.  I didn’t care.  I made it to the nurses’ station with only a couple of bruises.

 

“I’m Rick Simon, you called about my brother AJ.  Blond kid, fifteen, a surfer.”

 

“Of course, through those doors, in the corner.”

 

I didn’t even say thank you.

 

He was sitting on an examining table, wrapped in blankets.  He was pale, lips bluish, teeth chattering.

 

“AJ.”

 

He looked up, relief in his eyes. “Rick.”  Then AJ reached out a hand.

 

I took it and chafed it between my hands. His fingers were icy. “What the hell happened?”

 

He shrugged. “I was heading back to the shore when I got a cramp.  I got pulled under.  It’s nothing.”

 

“He stopped breathing for a few minutes.”

 

I turned to see a man in a white coat. “Are you the doctor?”

 

“Dr. Peterson.” He nodded towards AJ. “Your brother is a lucky boy.  We ran some tests, there doesn’t seem to be any damage but we would like to keep him in overnight for observation.

 

“Nu-uh, no way.” AJ shook his head.  “I wanna go home.”

 

“AJ, if the doctor says—”

 

“No!  Rick please, I want to go home.” He squeezed my hand.

 

“Do you really need to keep him all night?” I asked.

 

The doctor sighed. “Young men always think they’re invincible.  I’m not going to keep him here if he objects.  But I would suggest you call his normal physician for an examination, just to make sure he doesn’t develop any complications from his little dip in the ocean.”

 

“Thanks Doctor.”

 

AJ jumped off the table. “Let’s go.”

 

“Ah-ah, paperwork first, then we let you go.”

 

I sighed in frustration.  Paperwork, wonderful.

 

When we got home he went straight up to his room.  He spent more and more time there recently.  But then so had I when I was his age.

 

I followed him and watched him as he stood in the middle of the room staring at the floor.

 

“I don’t want you surfing anymore.”

 

His head snapped up and he stared at me. “Give me a break.  I’m not going to stop surfing because of one little accident.”

 

“One little accident?  You stopped breathing.  You could be dead.”

 

“But I’m not.  You can’t stop me from doing what I want just because you’re afraid.”

 

Who said I couldn’t? 

He was right, of course he was right.  And who was I to say any different?  I didn’t know whether to slap him silly or kiss him.  In the end I did neither.

 

Instead I hugged him, feeling his body against mine. “You’re shaking.”

 

“I’m cold.” He was holding me too.

 

“Take a hot shower.  I’ll make you some hot chocolate to warm you up.”

 

He laughed. “Hot chocolate?  What am I, five?”

 

I let him go. “Just take your damn shower.”

 

Then I went downstairs for the hot chocolate and a stiff drink.

 

 

Life slips through your fingers if you let it, like grains of sand you try too hard to hold onto.  It disappears in losses and anger and disappointment.  In fear.  But what can I do?  What can I do but stand here with a cup of hot chocolate in my hands and look at him sleep, cheeks flushed, hair damp…alive…

 

Alive.

 

I put the cup down and crawled into bed with him.  He stirred, blinking up at me sleepily, then cuddled up to me.  I could feel his breath against my neck, the warmth of his body against me.  I slipped my hands underneath his shirt, pressing them against his back, his pulse strong against my palms.  He smelled like soap and the perfumy smell of shampoo.

 

If I kissed him now his mouth would taste like water and lingering fear.

 

I nuzzled my face against his baby soft hair.  He sighed and murmured something.  Then I felt him smile.  I kissed his temple and closed my eyes.  If I listened hard enough I could hear his heart pounding in his chest, pounding to the same beat, the same rhythm as mine.

 

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