Blue

Fiction by Saba Sams

That feeling of being held. Encased. Safe. Only water can do that. She pushes the air out of her nose and mouth until it runs out. The bubbles make a cartoon sound, fish language. She sinks deeper, airless, until the heels of her feet touch the bottom of the pool. Rough skin, rough tiles. Chalk on chalkboard. Then that image again, flashing into her head. Terracotta. The top half of her big toenail, clean off. Glitter varnish. Little spots of brown blood. A big dark smear when she lifts her right foot. Go away go away. Throb. She can feel her heart beat in her ears, behind her eyes. In, out, in, out.

Lu’s parents rent the same house every summer. That’s eight full weeks on an island in the Balearics. There is a long wooden table on the patio, and a flat white roof. Thick pieces of fish on the barbeque. Decks of cards. It’s the middle of nowhere, Mum likes to announce to friends over the phone, we love it! Lu would prefer to be in the middle of somewhere, but here at least there’s a pool.

Lu’s sisters visit in stints, a week or two at a time, booking their own flights, staying as long as jobs or universities permit. They bring friends, boyfriends, precious things like Marmite or Heinz baked beans. A few weeks ago, the eldest brought her new baby. A big hit with Dad. A boy. With a tiny wrinkled penis that looked like something that had been left in the water too long.

The day after the baby was packed up and taken back to London, Kate arrived, one of the middle sisters, with a friend, Mina, from university. Mina was unbelievable. She didn’t shave her armpits, her legs. A few dark hairs curled around the seam of her red bikini bottoms. Her whole body was furred, growing, a kind of forest. She ate constantly, mostly bread, and never complained about being full or fat or anything. Kind of a girl, but not. When Mina first arrived she kissed Lu on both cheeks. Kiss, Kiss. You look way older than thirteen, she said. Like, super beautiful. A really mature vibe.

Finally, her palms find the tiles. Her whole body now, flat against the bottom of the pool. Deep end. She lies like this for a few seconds at most before rising back up again. Every movement delayed, fuzzy, like the action in a dream. Then clean air. Breathe. Closes her eyes to the sharp orange light. Chlorine sting. Her body spread out on the surface of the pool, lapping slightly. Water spilling into her ear canals, a heavy silence, and out again.

Mina wouldn’t sit in the sun. It’s boring, she’d say. There’s so much more to see. Lu couldn’t agree more. They’d go for long walks together in the midday heat. Working on my tan, Kate would shout after them, I’ll catch up. Sweat dripping from their fingertips. Barefoot. Geckos very still in the dry stone walls. Peaceful. Hey, Mina said once, Samphire. Lu pretended to know what that was. They picked the green salty stalks. Took them back to the house to boil, stem, make into a tartare sauce to eat with fish. Most delicious sort of thing I’ve ever tasted. Zingy! Thanks babe, Mina said, Glad you like.

After they’d spooned it into jars, stacked it up in the fridge, Lu turned around and Dad was there, in the doorway. Made her jump. Not properly physical, but a feeling inside herself. Mina, suddenly a little bit red on the tops of her ears, started clattering around in the fridge again: opened a jar back up, gave Dad a teaspoon, a taste. God, that’s good. Well done, girlies. He smiled all happy, a big hand on Lu’s shoulder. You hate vegetables, she wanted to say. Bit her top lip. But Mina, rinsing Dad’s spoon, announced all high pitched, No need to emphasise that we’re girls. Just because we’re in the kitchen. Then silence, for a few seconds, before Dad picked up a tea towel, wrapped it a few times around itself, hit it at Mina’s behind, sort of like a whip, right on the exposed flesh under her bikini. Got four daughters, he said, whipping again, Power to the women! Power to the women! And suddenly everybody was shouting this, laughing, even Lu, who realised she hadn’t taken a breath, not even one, since Dad walked into the kitchen.

Floating, still. Right in the middle. Won’t go to the edge. Won’t even look at it. Not yet. The tiles around the pool are made of that material that always looks dusty, changes colour in the rain. Anti-slip. Holds the mark of a wet footprint for a while, depending on the heat. Used to use this method to compare foot size, foot shape, with her sisters. Lu’s got flat feet, one heavy print. On discovering this, she quit ballet, took up tap. The night she brought the form home, something to sign, Dad pressed Mum up to the fridge by her neck. Back again. That moment of going over, when the end of the nail, the place where she might use a file, meets the surface, meets the ground. Snaps. Clean break. She’d thought it would hang a little, tug at the outside skin, but no. Horrible. Not painful in the toe so much, but in the back of the teeth, pressing her eyes closed, clenching her whole face to get rid of it. The whole picture, the whole idea.

Girl, you’re a real water baby. Few days ago now. Lu rested her chin on the edge of the pool. Looked straight up at Mina. Her head was blocking the sun, gold light collecting in the dark hair. She looked very beautiful. I was born in water, Lu said. Like, a birthing pool. Mina raised her eyebrows. Nirvana baby. That’ll be it then. She winked, carried on. Guess I was born in a fire pit. Hot stuff. She slapped her own bottom with her left hand. Lu thought of Dad’s big pink palms. Someone’s laugh carried over from inside the house. Lu pulled her whole body out the pool, stomach muscles a quick wrench, and swung around to sit on the edge. Mina got down next to her. Thighs touching, toes blurred by the water. Stuff like that doesn’t really mean anything, does it? You know, like, Fate and Karma and stuff? Mina nodded. Oh yeah. The universe doesn’t mess around. It’s society that’ll feed you bullshit. She spoke in a slow voice, slight croak in the background, holding Lu’s face by the cheeks, twisting her head so their eyes met. Believe me, she said. Everything is meant. Then, she kissed Lu hard on the lips, and slipped her body clean over the edge, into the water.

Go away go away. She swims. Breast stroke, front crawl, back crawl. Alternating strokes with every length. Something new to think of. Her whole body working, aching. Pushing off the ends of the pool, lifting for air, counting each pull, each kick. Still, the remainder of the toenail, loose at the new edge, flapping over and over with the movement. Strange feeling, water in a space unprotected, like a tongue in the soft bit, after a lost tooth. In, out, in, out.

Lu’s parents like it here. They like the olives. Mum knows all the birds. The freckles come out on her shoulders. A few days ago, Dad said, To your lovely mother, my lovely wife, when everyone clinked glasses around the table. They kept putting their arms around each other in the swimming pool. They’re never soppy like that in London. It’s gross, but a bit nice too. When Lu’s sister’s boyfriend, the father of the new baby, left for the airport, he said, God, you guys have such a beautiful family, and Mum and Dad looked at each other in that way that people do in films. But then today, maybe twenty minutes ago, when everyone was getting ready for the beach, before the toenail, before going over, there was this thing.

Kate poured water from big bottles into smaller bottles. Lu went around gathering up the towels. Dad shouted from somewhere that he’s Not coming, doesn’t like the sand, the itchy sand. Mum wrapped sandwiches in foil, packed them into the blue cotton bag, left one on a plate in the fridge for Dad. Mina was somewhere or other. Probably the shower, Kate said. Then mum, Kate and Lu sat together in the hot car with the dusty windscreen. Hotter and hotter, harder to breathe. Someone go and hurry Mina along.

She stops swimming. Holds on to the big thick ledge. Slightly dizzy, water caught in her throat. Finds one of those little white things imbedded into the wall, just next to her nipple, pushing air out into the pool. Some kind of cleaning device, maybe. Presses her palm against it. Feels the water nice and hard against her. She lifts her head, strong, looks up and over. Knows what’s there. The nail, about an arm’s stretch out. Blood dried up already in the sun, so it’s not glinting any more, just a few flat stains.

Lu got up out the car, padded around through the house, saying Mina Mina are you ready Mina. Heard some noise coming from her parents’ room, a sort of in out panting. And a quietness suddenly in Lu, not speaking, just looking in through the crack of the door. Mina there, on the floorboards, moving in, out, in, out, so her body blocked the sunlight from the window behind, then let it through again. Moving in, out, in, out, so she was shadow and then full detail, shiny skin, dark mole on the left shoulder, face turned away, hair all everywhere, then shadow again. Kind of a girl, but not. And Dad underneath it all, hands on her waist, hips, back. Oh. Lu hot, tired, sick of watching, ran to the pool, straight to the water, too fast, slipped, lost half a toenail, stared at it on the tile for a moment, jumped in, just jumped right in.

Noise starts up from inside the house. Crying, maybe. She turns away from the nail, pushes back down into the water. Stretches her arms out in front of her. The blue light swaying on the bottom of the pool. The blue light swaying on the backs of her hands. The water, the light, a kind of new skin. And no noise, no real noise. Just a vague, electric humming. Constant. Believe me, she speaks into the water, speaks with her mouth closed, Everything is meant.

Saba Sams lives in Brighton, UK. Her work has been published in various magazines, such as The Forge and The Stockholm Review and The Manchester Review. Prizes include a winning story in Brighton Festival’s 2017 short story competition, as well as the University of Manchester’s Anthony Burgess Centenary prize for creative writing. She is a member of The Writing Squad.