Tomorrow's Doom One-Shot - Little Swimmer

Little Swimmer

The midday sun hangs in a cerulean sky while wisps of distant clouds parade across like feathers caught in a breeze. The mirror-like stillness of the pool surface is only broken by my own reflection, smiling deviously as I prepare for the coming tirade. In my hands is a silly arrangement of colorful vinyl pads and a pair of tiny goggles, but they're not all I'm carrying.

Slung over my shoulder is the tense, frowning form of my terrified daughter, staring wild-eyed at the water's surface. Running through her mind, I imagine, are memories of the last time I tried this particular tactic, but I have no intention of forcing her into the water this time. She'll do that of her own accord.

Midori has apparently decided to follow us, but she's keeping her distance this time. The grin on her tiny face is no less devious than my own, though I'm sure it's because she enjoys seeing her big sister tortured. Meanwhile, Aiko remains completely silent, clinging to my shoulder as though her life depends on it, burying her face against my neck.

Last time we tried this, I made the mistake of walking right into the water and I nearly lost an arm when she broke away to skitter back to the edge, then ran directly back inside. This time, my idea is to make it her decision. First, though... I need to get her off my back.

Easier said than done.

Hearing her incoherent mumbling, I frown a little. The trauma from her spill was bad enough, but the nightmares have done infinitely more damage. The psychologist we brought her to suggested isolating her from the water, apparently thinking the nightmares might subside. Over a year later, she still wakes up screaming sometimes, crying and blubbering about being swallowed by the waves. Each time I rush to her side, it tears a deeper hole in me, knowing I could have prevented the whole ordeal.

Whatever I may have been able to prevent, the accident made her terrified of water, and I know she's probably on the verge of a nervous breakdown, but she needs her confidence back. Despite the suggestions of her therapist, I'm sure the only way to get the nightmares to subside is by taking away their power; face the nightmare instead of running away. The only way to do that is to get her back in the water.

Hearing Midori giggle in the background probably isn't helping matters, but when I kneel down to set Aiko's feet on the ground, she actually releases her grip; just not entirely. Keeping her hands locked together around my neck, she rests her elbows on my shoulders and bores that adorable two-toned stare into my eyes. The loving father in me wants to let her eyes melt my resolve, but this is more important than a brief smile.

She needs to face this...

“You'll be fine, I promise,” I whisper confidently, smiling despite my apprehension. Her gaze falters, and it kills me to watch her shrug noncommittally, but she isn't running; it's a start.

With my hands free, I pick up the swimming wings and hold them up, nodding toward them and smiling. Her expression is an unreadable mask, which is quite the feat for a nine-year-old girl. With her arms still wrapped around my neck, she stares at me, completely deadpan. Years ago, I used these silly water wings to help her get accustomed to swimming, but she was six then; I can at least tell she's not amused.

“Dad, I'm not six!” she protests, the part between her front teeth causing her to whistle inadvertently. There's confidence in her voice, broken only by an involuntary quiver, and that's an inspiring start compared to previous attempts.

“Humor me,” I reply, holding up one of the wings, “unless you're afraid.”

She finally lets go and crosses her arms, pouting and sneering at the same time; it's a look she inherited from her mother. At least the wild-eyed terror is gone from her expression. Manipulating her like this feels a little wrong, but it's working, and she starts looking between me and the wings. After a few moments of prideful contemplation, she unfurls her arms and sighs.

“Fine!” she yells, closing her eyes as her hands hover toward me.

It's all the affirmation I'm likely to get, so I'm not going to complain. Taking each wing in turn, I slide them up over her arms, smiling delightfully when she opens her eyes to stare at me with a raised eyebrow. Once they're in place, I stand and pat her head lovingly, making her look up just enough for me to see her eyes roll. As she shakes her thick locks of hair from side to side, annoyed by my contact with her perfectly brushed hair, I take a step backward.

“Okay, you stay here,” I say, pointing at her feet, “I'm gonna go for a few laps. All I want you to do is not move from this spot.”

The confused pout she makes isn't exactly what I was expecting, but it might be exactly what the situation calls for. Perhaps she expected me to start pulling her straight into the pool, but she already proved that wouldn't work. My new plan is to make swimming seem like something fun rather than frightening, and I plan to be an exemplar.

Keeping my eyes on her as I back my way to the edge of the pool, there's a bit of fear in her eyes; no doubt she's afraid of anyone slipping into the water as much as herself. Hopefully, that fear won't be enough to overpower her curiosity.

There's one way to find out...

Smiling broadly, I turn and leap, splitting through the surface like an arrow and swimming straight down to the bottom, like always. Swiping my hand along the vinyl, I stop my momentum and bring my legs down, using the inertia to pilot my feet against the spot where I touched, then kicking hard. As I break the surface and toss my head to throw the water off my face, I turn to regard Aiko's reaction.

She hasn't moved, but she isn't smiling. There's a horrified look on her face, but it melts away as I tread water and smile at her. She doesn't exactly smile, but I can see she's conflicted about what she's witnessing. Part of me wants to say something to assuage her fears, maybe even suggest she join me, but I don't want to push her too fast.

Instead, I roll around and start swimming toward the opposite edge. Getting my hand on the side, I glance back and see she still hasn't moved, and she seems to be holding her breath, but there's the start of a smile creeping along the corners of her frown. Seeing that spurns me to kick off and start my laps, making sure to keep my eyes on her every time I come up for air.

Winking as I reach the edge and roll around to kick off again, I think I catch an actual smile on her paled expression, but I might just be imagining things. Aiko used to stand by the edge of the pool and watch me take my evening laps, smiling giddily and often dipping her feet in to kick water at me as I reached the edge. Standing away from the edge, presumably immobilized, is a long way from her playful splashing, but it's a step in the right direction.

After three more laps, I pull up to the edge at her feet and rest my chin on my arms, grinning at the smile on her face. The vinyl wings around her arms catch a slight breeze, and her hair sways slightly in the sudden gust, but she's still not moving.

“Well,” I say, raising an eyebrow, “are you just going to stand there?”

Her smile disappears, replaced by a grimace. She takes a step backwards reflexively, but I keep my eyes locked with hers; I'm not going to drag her into this. The sound of water gently lapping against the edge of the pool fills the air as her eyes dart between me, the pool, and the ground. In this instant, I wish I had a sixth sense; some way of knowing what she's thinking. Unfortunately, all I can do is keep smiling and hope she doesn't decide to break into a run.

Although, I think I'd be happy just with the progress she made being able to stand by the pool. Ina told me it could take a while, especially considering how stubborn her family is known for being; a trait Aiko inherited. Maybe it will take weeks or months to get her into the water again, but I have most of the summer to help her get reacquainted, so I'm in no rush.

That thought is shelved as she takes a step forward. The grimace, I realize, is suddenly one borne of determination, rather than fear. Though her body is still betraying her resolve, her legs starting to shake as she inches closer to the edge, the steely expression and squared shoulders indicate she's fighting her inhibitions. For my part, I don't make any sudden movements, not wanting to scare her away or make her think I'm going to pull her in faster than she's ready.

When her feet are close enough that I could reach out and grab her ankle, I shoot a look at them. Resisting the urge to be playful, I turn back up to regard her cracking visage and assure her, “Nothing to be scared of, Blinky.”

I haven't called her that since she was six...

The nickname makes her smile despite the shaking, and I think she might laugh if not for the mind-numbing terror. Whatever she thinks about being called that again, it's keeping her mind off the water for a few moments. Any other time and she would probably set a stony glare on me and protest being called by such a childish moniker, but the terrified eyes indicate she's beyond the capacity to speak.

Deciding to make sure she knows I'm not going to force her, I push away from the edge and tread away a few feet; staying close enough to give her something to focus on, but far enough that she doesn't feel threatened. After a few moments of silent staring, she heaves a breath and closes her eyes, blowing it out as she crouches down on the balls of her feet.

“C'mon,” I whisper, too soft for her to hear as I watch her intently.

Her eyes open, and, for a moment, I think she's about to bound up and start running, but she locks her eyes on the edge of the pool. Since she was little, Aiko's curious eyes have never faltered, always roaming freely to analyze the world around her, except for this past year.

Spending the Sea-Day weekend at Aki's beach home had been a tradition since he first bought the place, years before Ina and I started having children. My daughters were more than eager to spend their days lazing by the sea, chartering a boat for a day trip to do some fishing, or go diving off the nearby rocks; something Aki neglected to tell me about until recently. However, Aiko's accident isn't, he wasn't even there; it was entirely my doing.

I should have been watching...

That day, we were supposed to go deep-sea fishing, and I wasn't looking when she ran off down the pier. By the time I noticed, she had already gotten too far away, so I called after her. In her giddiness, she looked back for just a moment, long enough to lose track of where she was running. The next few moments are among the most horrifying in my memory; watching her trip over a bundle of rope and tumble against the side of a boat, smacking her head against the side, then falling twenty feet to the cold water below.

Never had I swam so fast...

Whatever luck let me find her barely conscious body sinking under the black waves on that chilly, overcast morning, it's tainted by the knowledge that I could have prevented it from happening. Aiko would still be able to hear out of her left ear then, and wouldn't wake, screaming and crying, from nightmares about drowning. She doesn't blame me, which is small solace, but that doesn't stop me from blaming myself. Maybe this is as much for me as it is her, and perhaps no penance will ever be enough to sate my regret, but I can at least help her regain command over her fears.

She'll need a strong will later in life...

Her darting eyes settle on me, and, after more than a year of turning inward, I can see them finally looking outward. “Is it cold?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Moving to reply, I stop myself from answering her question directly. Instead, I hold out a hand and smile, suggesting, “Why don't you see for yourself?”

Her lip trembles a little as she snaps a cold look on me, but the determination remains. It's the same look she turned on me when I first coaxed her into the pool years ago, and I have to hold back the laugh as I compare her current frightened expression with that of her younger self. The bright orange wings bunched up against her sides aren't helping me keep my composure.

Just a little bit of history repeating...

Squinting at me, I see the gears turning behind her eyes, and a defiant smirk begins to creep its way across her lips. She collapses forward, kneeling right on the edge of the pool, but remaining reticent. The absence of expression is somewhat telling, though. She has to try to maintain that face, I've learned, so if she's making it, it's because she's hiding her real expression. If I get the chance to know her as a teenager, I'll have to remember that so I'll know when she's lying.

Tentatively, and not without a fair amount of nervous twitching, she slowly leans forward and holds out a hand. Still inches from the water's surface, her hand balls into a fist and it starts to retract, her eyes widening and then quickly narrowing; she seems disappointed with herself. Her jaw clenches and the hand continues, opening slowly as it extends. Hovering close enough to feel the slightly cooler air just above the water's surface, she stops, and I suck in a breath, having to consciously remember to keep treading water.

I almost can't believe what I'm watching...

For a long moment, she doesn't move, remaining perfectly still as the waves from my treading water roll under her fingertips. Her reticence broken, I see the conflict in her expression. The slightest hint of a smile starts to form, but it's accompanied by disdainful eyes; struggling with the decision, trying to push the fear away. Nothing I could do or say will help at this point; all I can do is wait, and watch, and hope.

“Dad?” she prompts, keeping her eyes pinned to her watery reflection.

Releasing the held breath, I reply, “Yes, Blinky?” hoping the nickname still works as a distraction.

The grin flattens, but her eyes light up, and she looks away from the rippling waves to peer at me, momentarily shooting daggers at the unwanted nickname. Once she's satisfied I'm convinced not to use it again, she starts looking between me and the water, the wings strapped to her arms, and then back to me, a pleading look in her eyes.

Her hand retracts, and I feel my heart sink, thinking she's giving up; deciding she can't keep going. A moment, barely a second, passes as the hand turns over and she sucks in a breath. Instead of standing and backing away, she starts beckoning, wriggling her fingers as though they're the only things she's capable of moving. It takes all my willpower not to dive forward, overcome with excitement. Instead, I approach slowly, keeping my eyes locked with hers.

This is her idea, not mine...

When I'm close enough, her hand reaches out and grips my shoulder, its tiny knuckles turning white as she latches onto me; her grip is surprisingly strong. Up close, I can hear her breathing has quickened, and I imagine her heart is racing, but she's keeping her face from showing the distress. Though I'd never think less of her for it, ever since the accident, she always tries to hide her fear from me. Her deadpan stares are a mask she maintains for my benefit, but I've never spoken against her reluctance to show fear; seeing her now, I think that approach has been wrong.

She needs to know fear isn't all bad...

“It's okay, Mermaid, you're allowed to be scared,” I say, as calmly and evenly as I can manage. My admission, along with the more recently retired nickname, strike her as odd for a moment, making her face screw up, but I'm not finished. Nodding, I add, “I'm scared too, sometimes.”

The grip on my shoulder tightens even further and she leans forward, wrapping her other arm around my head. With her blocking my ears, it's difficult to tell, but her sudden outpouring doesn't feel the same as when she wakes from those nightmares. This time her tears aren't fearful and her sobs aren't heart-wrenching. Instead, they seem like honest tears of relief; as though there had been a weight on her shoulders that I somehow lifted with a few simple words.

“I'm always scared, Dad,” she wails, still hugging me tightly.

Maybe it's because I wasn't expecting the admission, or maybe it's because I never wanted to hear my daughter admit something like that, or perhaps I'm just overjoyed that, for once, her tears are for joy rather than sorrow, but I can't choke back my own tears. Still, I hold myself back, even though the water cascading down from my hair does a decent job of hiding the warm streaks I can feel flowing down my cheeks. Even if she saw, I could explain it away, but she doesn't need to see me cry, especially not now.

“Are you ready to do this?” I ask, trying to maintain my composure.

The grip around my head loosens, and she leans back. The streaking tears down her delicate cheeks are accompanied by sparkling eyes and a broad grin, something I've seen so rarely of late that it nearly makes me cheer. Seeing her eyes look past me, I watch her grin falter as the reality sets in, and my question finally reaches the forefront of her thoughts.

“You'll be right there?” she asks, fixing an unwavering stare on me.

Smiling, I nod firmly.

“Always?”

For a moment, I hesitate, but not long enough for her to notice, before I nod again. There's no need for her to ever think otherwise until it becomes obvious. For now, I'm not going anywhere. Whatever she needs me to do, I'll do. Wherever she needs me to be, I'll be. Nothing could keep me away.

Nothing...

“Can we start on the shallow end?”

Her question almost goes right through me. She's already walking around the edge of the pool before I manage to reply, “Of course.” When I'm close enough to the edge, I start walking up the steps, meeting her squinting smirk with raised eyebrows.

“Dad?” she prompts.

“Yes?”

“Don't call me Blinky,” she demands.

Smirking wistfully, I nod and reply, “Alright, Mermaid.”

Her light, airy giggle is more than enough payment for anything she asks of me.