Abigail
Saturday morning
22 October 2016
Something about the glistening unknown depths of the lake's reflection just doesn't say "relax" to me.
It's why I had to be dragged screaming and kicking onto the spacious four-seater punt boat, that we collected from the shed. It looked way more impressive than what I'd imagined (which was a 4 logged, holey, river raft). With sandpapered white paint and a marine navy edging, its triangular pregnant centre was reassuring.
My girlfriend however, wasn't as comforting.
Before getting in, I had seen random ripples, big and small, at intervals over the surface. My mind wondered which animal could've made those and I refused to get in. After getting tired of calmly trying to convince me the Lochness monster wasn't real, Elizabeth simply carried me squealing like a pig onto the rickety wooden contraption.
Granted once settled and moving, in the confidence of Liz's rowing, it was worth the experience.
Liz sits perfectly at home with her sunhat, shades and beige linen jumpsuit looking once again, like the world would simply fold and just wield to her desires. Her oversized wideleg culottes fall gracefully between us as I snuggle into her arm.
There are a lot of things I don't understand about rowing. Like why we had to wake up at the crack of dawn for it, or why we were sitting at the front of the thing and not the back. But one thing I do understand is why people would do it.
The view from here is incredible.
The air is punctuated by the wispy smell of mint that grows wild within the groves. The Pines sparsely but somehow densely populate the area, creating shadows in secret corners of the lake. In the still, silver mirror of water the green of the trees reflects in the lake's waves.
The call of wild birds is louder here than in the wake of sleep. An almost jungle mix of melodies from the caw of a yellow-tail to the tsk of a cricket bug. The sounds around us are disturbed only by Elizabeth's slow paddling and her occasional narration of plant life names and anecdotes of summercamp rowing on Lake Oswego.
There's a gentle current guiding us (one I don't want to think too much of). I don't know who was giving her tips all of a sudden, but I didn't know Elizabeth could be romantic. Overall this is very picturesque.
"Ok Casanova." I peck her cheek. "You were right, this is perfect."
"Told ya." She says smiling.
"So I have to ask something." I start. I make sure to put space between us so that I could clearly see her reaction.
"Last week, when you said -the thing, you said you were trying to push me away. Why?"
Elizabeth sighs and she looks off into the distance. She then turns to me with a frown on her face. Thinking.
"I'm being blackmailed." She finally says.
"By who?" My shock is evident in my voice. Of all the things I thought she'd say, that wasn't anywhere in my periphery.
"Someone. I haven't quite figured out the details yet but remember Connie?" I nod. "They got to her. I got home that day to find her slaughtered like a lamb in my guestroom. They've spun it so that it looks like I was in on it."
My mouth gapes like a fish trying to process the insanity I'd just heard from Liz.
"They were in your house!? Liz they killed someone in your house? What did Bridge say? How did they even get in? Liz what if they go after you next?
"Ok wait. Don't, just -don't -freak out okay I've got it. I've got it under control. I'll sort it out."
"Liz,"
