Listen to the Water | FULL SERIES | Wattys 2022 Shortlist | ✔

(39) In Search of Safety

We stay together as a family, doing family things, for the next several days. I need to be coddled for a bit, and I think Taiki's still in shock. On the third "night" with the village, I'm woken by a shake on the shoulder. I would maul someone for that back on Telu. I sit up abruptly instead, my hands already asking what's wrong before I'm awake enough to catch them doing it, one more reminder of just how much has changed.

It's the young mother who offered Taiki food when we arrived. Her toddler is asleep on her shoulder. Even he has a fish tail. "Your friend is wandering," she signs, and my heart sinks. "Is he okay?"

"No," I reply, pushing myself up. "Where is he?"

"I can wake your mother—"

"No, I'll come."

She looks trapped between obedience to a sun-dancer and my village's ceaseless drive to serve one, and annoyance flashes through my chest. I don't always need serving. I can do some things myself, too.

If she's waiting for a direct order, I can give her one. "Show me where he is."

With that, she backs down and nods. I follow her out of the cave and along the drop-off wall, until the camp is a near-uncomfortable distance behind us. The young woman points. There, off in the open water, is a faint, starry outline. Taiki is wandering aimlessly.

I start towards him, and a current at my side reminds me that I'm not alone. I put out a hand to stop the woman from following me. "Thank you," I sign. "You can go back now."

It feels cold, but it works. She nods once—if with visible reluctance—and retreats, rocking her child. I take a moment to ground myself before I leave the wall and swim out into the open water. Taiki isn't moving very fast. He has a glazed look in his eyes when I catch him, like he's here but not quite here. As per usual. I lose my grip on his shoulder as he just keeps moving, so I grab his wrist instead.

"They're all gone," his hands murmur. "I can't find them."

He's spinning, but the real warning signs aren't there. He's had no fight in him these last few days.

"We're still here," I reply. I wait to see how he'll respond, but he's watching me with a face twisted in anxiety and exhaustion. "We found them," I sign. I'm making this up, but he responds best when I meet him in whatever hallucination he's trapped in. "The village is here. You've been dreaming. Come."

Taiki doesn't resist as I pull him back to the safety of the wall. I have a terrible time finding our cave again—there are many—but the people in the ones we pass wilt Taiki further and further. He's nearly limp by the time I push him back into my family's cave. He crashes there and sleeps for the rest of the day-night, uninterrupted.

The next day, he's back out again.

I know my parents are both desperate to learn everything that's happened to me ever since I woke up in the water, but I'm not about to tell them when Taiki's awake to see, and he sleeps even worse now than he did on our way up the island chain. Not to mention that hardly anyone in the village leaves their caves unless they absolutely have to.

It's not until the fifth or sixth day—I've stopped counting—that an opportunity arises. I wake to find my parents sitting side by side at the cave entrance, just watching the water outside. Now and again, my mother lifts her hands and signs something, but with her back to me, I have no way to see what she says. I drift up behind them both. Neither is alert enough to feel me coming. The whole village is so unprepared to live in this underwater world.

My parents both startle when I slip in beside them, then smile and bid me good morning. It's midafternoon, but the language has stuck. I settle in at my father's side, going through the motions of answering how I slept, how I'm feeling, and other parental worries only accentuated by the recentness of my return. The conversation we know we all want to have starts organically.