The Water - 1

There was water in every direction.

It fluttered around her calves, licked at her knees.

The hairs along her arm lifted and tingled with a warm gust. The breeze scuttled across the surface of the water, then disappeared.

She looked at herself. Shoulders, breasts, arms, ribs, belly, hands, hips, thighs, calves, feet. Twisting her foot, she watched her toes curl beneath the water, felt the broad, smooth stones under her heel.

When she woke up, she remembered none of it.

Moaning faintly from the morning light in her eyes, she twisted. The water bed undulated beneath her in gradually diminishing waves. A pounce, and the bed began rolling again. Weight descended on carefully balanced paws beside her, onto her thigh, her butt, then a heavy circle of fur curled into the small of her back. A tail flicked against her side.

“Mhaih,” she said. Out of the eye not pressed into her pillow, she saw the cat survey the room serenely. “Uh-up.”

She pushed herself up on her hands, and the cat leapt to the floor, then paused to lick under a hind leg.

To her feet, onto her toes, hands reaching upward.

“Stre-etch.”

Sinking into the warm depths of the water bed, she blew out a breath. A strand of her hair flipped to the side and the rest stayed in her face. She lay on her stomach until the bed stopped moving, then scootched onto her back, making it rock all over again. She tugged out a crease in her t-shirt. The bed rolled. She turned onto her side, tucking her legs up.

The water stretched from her legs to the horizon in ever direction.

A fish as bright as blood wound past her calf, trailing fins and whiskers. The sun glanced down clear and hard on her left side. The breeze whispered, then fell silent.

She twisted and looked around. Clouds formed in the distance behind her. Nothing but a blue dome above.

She took a step, stopped to watch the ripples spread around her. A tiny, translucent plant rose from between the smooth stones, waving gently. She looked around. Far off, something broke the surface of the water, but she could not see what.

She waded until the sun was high, and her back hot. A golden bird with wings like sharp eyebrows drove into the water, bobbed briefly, then took to the air with something clutched in its talons. Once, a school of fish swam through her legs, gold and grey and blue and red, bumping her shins, slapping her ankles, whiskers and fins entwined.

The water grew shallower, so that it no longer fountained around her thighs, but splashed around her calves. The endless fabric of water broke, a grassy atoll sitting on a flat, bright plane. Suddenly weary, she waded toward it, and clambered onto its heavy bank. She stared into the layers of long, fine grass, and then at her wrinkled toes. She felt the sun, hot on her shoulder and face.

She opened her eyes.

Yawned.

Stretched.

Scratched the neck of the cat over the edge of the bed.

“I want bacon,” she informed the cat. Dragging one flank against the edge of the bed, the cat flowed the other direction, scraping against her dangling hand.

“And icecream. That is such a good combination.” Clambering to her feet, she hooked her fingers in the back of her underwear and pulled it into place. The cat preceded her from the room.

“Yeah,” she agreed into the phone. Tucking it between her ear and shoulder, she poured a carefully pre-measured three-quarters cup of milk into a hot saucepan. It boiled immediately with a loud rush of steam and she hastily stirred.

“Yeah, Judy,” she agreed, carefully pulling one bare foot over the cat, who was sniffing the air speculatively. “Yeah, Lindsey came by the day before yesterday. We talked a lot. Well, she made me talk.”

Ripping open a foil packet she dumped the powdery contents into the bubbling saucepan and jabbed the spoon back in. She listened to the voice on the other end of the line for several moments, stirring idly.

“Uh, yeah. I’m gonna spend some time in the yard tomorrow. I think I want to plant some morning glories around the mailbox.” She listened patiently to the reply. “Hm-hm. Uh-huh. Yeah, I thought it would be nice.” A pause. She glanced at the clock on the stove, then consulted a slim cardboard box on the counter.

“Oh, you know, a good old-fashioned, traditional breakfast…” She ripped open a paper packet this time, and deposited the crumbs in the mix. The cat crunched cat food loudly, grinding. “Uhh…” she snatched up the cardboard box again, reading. “I am having rice, some chicken with spinach, with… some kind of… cajun seasoning… I got at the store. Yeah,” she agreed. “No, I’m feeling pretty good. It’s nice that the neighbors are coming out now that its warmer. I’ve been keeping pretty busy, but you know, resting too.” Turning a knob on the stove, she shut off the heat.

“Uhh… you do the same, Judy. I will. Yeah, I will. See you on Tuesday. Yeah. Bye.”

Without looking at the handset, she hung up the phone on the wall. She scraped large spoonfuls of her meal into a bowl. As she passed the catfood, she sprinkled some onto the kibble. The cat sniffed, then partook delicately.

Flopping down on the couch, she hooked a leg over the fat armrest and ate slowly. Blowing on each bite, she stared at the dark TV screen. When she was finished, she set her bowl aside on the floor and stared into the darkening room. Curling up, she shut her eyes.

Long strands of grass formed a nest in front of her nose.

“Fuck.”

She sat up. Got up, walked to the bathroom, grabbed a toothbrush, smeared toothpaste on it and stuck it in her mouth. Scraped it across her teeth, her tongue, the roof of her mouth, then spat in the sink. She flipped on the light when she couldn’t find the toothbrush holder. In the mirror a reddened corduroy pattern lay embossed on her cheek.

She rolled onto her back in the bed. Turned her head to the side. Slipped into what was not a dream.

Water lapped at the edges of her feet. The air was cool on her skin. She stared through her lashes at the nest of grass in front of her nose. The water lapped at the legs. She heard a plop, then a splatter. The water rubbed her knees. A breeze tumbled by.

When the water splashed her stomach, she sat up.

The wave came again, higher, washing over the grass. The water was rising, and she quickly stumbled off the atoll. In a moment, only a few blades of grass poked above the surface. Just under the skin of the water, swarms of shiny black pellets surged toward where the atoll had been swallowed. Looking away, she gazed out, and in that direction began to wade.

When she was thirsty, she drank. The water tingled under her tongue, and felt warm in her belly. Sitting in the water, she dug her fingers under one of the broad, flat rocks. Scores of tiny creatures, each topped with a shell like the depression of a fingertip, skittered away from the air to plip back into the water. The iridescent shells, in blues and greys and reds, turned the reflected sunlight into muted beads. She carefully replaced the rock upside-down so they would not be crushed.

As she waded she passed two of the golden birds floating on subtle waves, their slender, curved beaks turned toward her as they watched her pass. Water weeds brushed her legs, sometimes sending up plumes of bubbles, sometimes dispersing clouds of shockingly orange minnows that launched out of the water.

She kept wading through the high-sun heat. She drank more. She saw wide, furry backs floating like flat atolls, drifting together, then disappearing.

As the light faded and the air cooled, she spotted another little atoll, one end higher than the other. Climbing onto the grass, she sat with her elbows around her knees, watching the patterns on the surface of the water.

She woke to strengthening sunlight. Still, and warm, she closed her eyes again.

Someone was standing in the water in the distance. Staring at her.

She jolted awake to the obnoxious crash and beep-beep-beep of the trash truck backing up. Yawning into the living room, she watched it move down the street through the blinds. Picking up her bowl from the evening before, she spoon rattling inside, she stopped.

The front door stood open.

She had come in with the groceries yesterday, and kicked the door shut. The screen door didn’t close tightly, it always stayed open just a crack, and the spring wasn’t strong—

“Braaandy! Brandy! Shit-fuck-shit.”

Under the dresser, in the bathroom, in the bathtub, behind the TV stand, in the nook between the couch and the wall, in the kitchen, all of them again.

“Fuck. Fuck.”

Jamming her feet into sneakers, the heels folded down, then— She froze. Maybe a sound. She waited, holding her breath, and when it didn’t come again, she pushed open the screen door— then let it bang against the frame to check one more time.

The kitchen the dresser the bathroom the kitchen the living room the kitchen a cat, calmly eating dry kibble.

“There you are.”

Swooping, she gathered the cat to her chest, smelling the calico fur.

“Ugh. Cat.” The cat purred as she scratched behind an ear.