Chapter 24 - The Water One Last Time
At ninety five, I wanted see lake.
Not old house necessarily sold, but public lakeside park nearby.
Michael said:
“Why?”
“Because.”
We went early morning.
Wheelchair for distance, but I could stand.
Caleb came.
Tyler.
No Denise? She offered, I said no need.
We stopped at public pier.
Different wood.
Same dark water.
Life ring bright orange.
I stood holding rail.
Caleb moved closer.
I looked.
“Stay.”
He froze.
Then I smiled.
“Not because fear. I’m steady.”
He breathed.
I touched water with fingers.
Cold.
Memory flashed.
Hands slipping.
Foot.
Laughter.
Then other memories.
James fishing.
Children.
Sunsets.
June swimming.
Water was not guilty.
I asked Caleb:
“Do you still teach?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Then Michael:
“Mom, enough.”
I looked.
He immediately corrected.
“Sorry. Are you tired?”
“Yes.”
Progress even ninety five.
I sat.
Then Tyler asked:
“What do you remember most about that day?”
I thought.
“Silence after I stood.”
Not push.
Not water.
Silence.
Because laughter stopped when I stopped performing victim.
Then:
“And phone call.”
Michael groaned.
“Worst caller ID of my life.”
We laughed.
He could.
Then I said:
“You know the police weren’t literally watching Denise’s phone live.”
June? She wasn't there. Fine.
“My watch stream had audio. Her phone provided video later.”
Michael:
“I thought entire state saw.”
“Good.”
He laughed.
Then I looked at him.
“Did fear help?”
“Yes.”
At least.
Then Caleb:
“Grandma, I’m sorry.”
Again.
“I know.”
No need repeated.
Then he asked:
“Can I hold your hand?”
“Yes.”
He did.
Not to save.
Just hold.
We stayed until sun high.
Then left.
No cliffhanger? Chapter 24 must end with lead to 25. Could have family gets one final document from late husband James? Hmm no random. Maybe professional fiduciary brings old letter from James found in archive at final estate review. But could be nice if foreshadowed? Not previously. Better chapter 24 ends with narrator deciding to record a final family statement before memory fades, leading to 25. That's okay.
That evening, I told Michael:
“I’m going to record something.”
“For will?”
“No.”
“For family.”
“What?”
“The truth before I forget enough that somebody else tells it for me.”
He went still.
May you like
The next morning, every person from that dock sat in one room again.
This time, no one was laughing.
