Beautiful People | wlw

Twenty-five: Swimming

Vera popped to the surface with a gasp, water streaming from her ears.

Forgotten instincts honed by those high school years of competitive swimming kept her legs kicking, even as her shoes and pants became sodden weights trying to drag her under. She thrust her purse into the air, hoping it wasn't already too late for her phone. With the other hand, she wiped silty water from her eyes.

At least the canal was smooth and calm under the twinkling night so she didn't have to worry about waves smacking her in the face as she looked around for a way out. On one side, ripples met the foundations of buildings that rose several stories straight out of the water; on the other, wrought-iron fences lined the street, probably to keep people from doing exactly what she was doing now: accidentally going for a swim.

Echoing shouts finally found her ears. Bystanders were laughing and waving their arms. A stranger leaned over the side of the bridge above her with their hands out, calling to her but too far for her to reach. Diners on the restaurant patio gleefully watched the commotion, one even climbing onto their chair for a better view. Her face got very hot, and not from the exertion of treading water.

Jay had raced to the end of the bridge, where, hidden between the fence and the foundations of the arching bridge, a series of narrow stone steps led down the canal. He waved frantically at her. A way out.

Keeping her purse safely aloft, Vera pulled one-handed toward shore. It wasn't a far distance, but wine and cold water leadened her limbs and she was spluttering by the time she was close enough to scrabble at the bottom step. Jay and two burly men who had joined him all grabbed a piece of her to haul her bodily out of the canal. She flopped onto the steps with a splash, gulping for air like a suffocating fish.

She managed some thanks. The men nodded and filed back up the narrow stairs. Someone on the street above said disapprovingly, "Americans."

"You okay?" Jay asked.

"What do you think?" she grumbled, as she dug her phone from her waterlogged purse. "Shit. My phone's dead." She pried the case off and water gushed out.

"Sweet Jesus. You had me worried for a minute there." He laughed like a sunset over a calm shore, and Vera resented him for it. He should have sounded thin and humiliated and slightly hysterical, the way she felt.

The night air, which had seemed so warm earlier, now pressed chills into her wet skin. Clumsy hands put a thin scarf over her shoulders, and she pulled it close against the shivers. It was Lily, gray-faced and guilty.

"I'm sorry."

"You should be." Scowling, Vera used a corner of the scarf to wipe her phone dry.

Lily frowned. "It was an accident."

"You owe me a new phone." She twisted her ankle to check the damage on her sandal. The heel had cracked clean through. "And new shoes."

"It was an accident."

"So?"

"So put your phone in a bag of rice, like everyone else."

"Or," Vera said, dragging the word out. Eyebrows raised, she dangled her phone above her head, the blank screen staring out at Lily. "You could replace the things that got wrecked because you pushed me into the water."

"I don't have that kind of money," Lily whined, eyebrows crinkled.

Then there were authorities at the top of the steps, herding them up and away from the water, Vera hobbling on her broken shoe. And now it was her trying to explain it had been an accident, please, she hadn't meant to go swimming and she couldn't afford the ticket.