trembled, scaring herself. Consuela huddled into a ball of fluorinated water and pushed away as far as she could go, like she was four all over again and afraid of being sucked down the drain. Except this time, it was real.
I really could fall down the drain! Consuela felt herself tempted by an elemental pull. If Iâm not careful. If Iâm not thinking, I could lose myself in this.
Between one blink of her eyes and the next, it clicked.
The world snapped open.
The world snapped shut.
The fear melted away, replaced by purpose.
She leaped and, like a needle-borne thread, she spun, funneling down the drain.
Â
past the pipes and the processing plant, the alum and sand, fluoride and grates, Consuela swiveled in a direction she could feel at her coreâa spinal column compass inside her liquid skin.
Water into water, she emerged; the temperature changing dramatically, the immense feeling of being one with the lake. Consuela felt all that was skirting in and around her muddy edge: plants and algae, fish and frogs, eggs and spawn and pollywogs, water bugs kissing the surface, birds dipping their beaksâevery thing, everywhere, held within her. Life. To be water was to be alive.
The ruffled-feather, splashing, plinking, diving motion tickled in ripples and soothed her in waves, except for one spot on the edge of her tasting sight.
There.
She felt the tug draw her closer. She swam without thought.
Skimming the surface, disturbing dragonflies as she passed, Consuela sank below the tumult, looking up from within. He was a skinny boy of eight or nine, twiggy legs and arms, wildly thrashing; a dark bluish-black blur against the reflection of the sky. The boy was doing a poor job keeping afloat. His limbs were barely twitching now, the spasms hardly kicks. His round head began sinking, tiny pearls of air nesting in his close-cut curls like a crown. His eyes closed. His face relaxed.
No, she thought. It is not your time.
She cupped herself like a net beneath him and, bending backward, pushed him up toward the light. He broke through the water and hung there. She could feel his fleshy weight, still slack against her frame.
Breathe! she commanded as she flattened with him on her surface. Flipping over, she hugged him to her. Breathe!
Nothing. A gentle panic seized her. Was she too late?
Consuela tightened herself around him, wringing his soggy chest in undulations and waves. His mouth slid open, a pool wobbled behind his teeth.
Iâm coming, she thought, and touched a finger to his tongue, reaching deep into his throat and lungs and pulled.
Lake water sprayed from his purpled lips as Consuela flung it away. The child rolled over and coughed up a great bubble of wet. He hacked hoarsely, filling his lungs with air. Gasping, he started to cry.
Consuela relaxed into her element, letting him sink against her water skin until he could touch the silty shore with one outstretched foot. He crawled onto the bank, heaving and sobbing. Consuela glanced at the little lakeside cabin in the wan yellow light. It was still early morning.
The boy gave a whining moan. Lights came on. Shouts.
I did it! Consuela thought with a secret grin.
She exploded in a geyser and hit the storm drain like a gong.
Â
SHE landed on the floor of her shower with a slap, uncertain of how sheâd gotten there or how long it had been.
Consuela blinked up weakly from the tiles. The realization of where she was, what she was, and what she had done without a second thought quivered through her water and quaked along her skin.
Whatâs happening? What am I doing? Becoming? Thinking ?
Consuela hugged herself, feeling her fingers melt seamlessly into her arm. Enough of the Flow. Iâm home.
She dragged herself from the shower, her body sloshing with surface tension but failing to leave wet footprints on the floor. Consuela yanked off the water skin, dropping the strange, silvery-blue pool on the tiles. She watched it from the edge
I really could fall down the drain! Consuela felt herself tempted by an elemental pull. If Iâm not careful. If Iâm not thinking, I could lose myself in this.
Between one blink of her eyes and the next, it clicked.
The world snapped open.
The world snapped shut.
The fear melted away, replaced by purpose.
She leaped and, like a needle-borne thread, she spun, funneling down the drain.
Â
past the pipes and the processing plant, the alum and sand, fluoride and grates, Consuela swiveled in a direction she could feel at her coreâa spinal column compass inside her liquid skin.
Water into water, she emerged; the temperature changing dramatically, the immense feeling of being one with the lake. Consuela felt all that was skirting in and around her muddy edge: plants and algae, fish and frogs, eggs and spawn and pollywogs, water bugs kissing the surface, birds dipping their beaksâevery thing, everywhere, held within her. Life. To be water was to be alive.
The ruffled-feather, splashing, plinking, diving motion tickled in ripples and soothed her in waves, except for one spot on the edge of her tasting sight.
There.
She felt the tug draw her closer. She swam without thought.
Skimming the surface, disturbing dragonflies as she passed, Consuela sank below the tumult, looking up from within. He was a skinny boy of eight or nine, twiggy legs and arms, wildly thrashing; a dark bluish-black blur against the reflection of the sky. The boy was doing a poor job keeping afloat. His limbs were barely twitching now, the spasms hardly kicks. His round head began sinking, tiny pearls of air nesting in his close-cut curls like a crown. His eyes closed. His face relaxed.
No, she thought. It is not your time.
She cupped herself like a net beneath him and, bending backward, pushed him up toward the light. He broke through the water and hung there. She could feel his fleshy weight, still slack against her frame.
Breathe! she commanded as she flattened with him on her surface. Flipping over, she hugged him to her. Breathe!
Nothing. A gentle panic seized her. Was she too late?
Consuela tightened herself around him, wringing his soggy chest in undulations and waves. His mouth slid open, a pool wobbled behind his teeth.
Iâm coming, she thought, and touched a finger to his tongue, reaching deep into his throat and lungs and pulled.
Lake water sprayed from his purpled lips as Consuela flung it away. The child rolled over and coughed up a great bubble of wet. He hacked hoarsely, filling his lungs with air. Gasping, he started to cry.
Consuela relaxed into her element, letting him sink against her water skin until he could touch the silty shore with one outstretched foot. He crawled onto the bank, heaving and sobbing. Consuela glanced at the little lakeside cabin in the wan yellow light. It was still early morning.
The boy gave a whining moan. Lights came on. Shouts.
I did it! Consuela thought with a secret grin.
She exploded in a geyser and hit the storm drain like a gong.
Â
SHE landed on the floor of her shower with a slap, uncertain of how sheâd gotten there or how long it had been.
Consuela blinked up weakly from the tiles. The realization of where she was, what she was, and what she had done without a second thought quivered through her water and quaked along her skin.
Whatâs happening? What am I doing? Becoming? Thinking ?
Consuela hugged herself, feeling her fingers melt seamlessly into her arm. Enough of the Flow. Iâm home.
She dragged herself from the shower, her body sloshing with surface tension but failing to leave wet footprints on the floor. Consuela yanked off the water skin, dropping the strange, silvery-blue pool on the tiles. She watched it from the edge
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