MRS. EDGEWATER GOES TO JAMAICA

Without wanting to, Mrs. Edgewater got in the boat. Her friends, Astrid and Raja, looked excited and happy to be there. Although the sky was gray and the sea was high, this day had been planned all year. The big black captain smiled at her, easy-going. No constraints. She smiled at everybody in their unfamiliar, colorful bathing suits. Try to have a good time. Uncharacteristically, all Mrs. Edgewater really wanted to do was flop into a comfy beach chair and vedge. She did not feel vacationy at all.

The earthquakes that hit Puerto Rico were churning up the Caribbean, turning it colder and murkier. She had never been in a glass-bottomed boat before, and so she gazed down at window to the other half of the world. Blue. Sandy bottom. It was barren right there by the beach. The captain started the motor and they pulled away from the resort, away from the bar, restaurant, and pools. The tall waves made her glad that she never got seasick, but she had stowed some antacids in her beach bag just in case. The coastline was beautiful. As they headed up past the point, the beach gave way to rocky cliffs. Pirates used to shelter here and bury their treasures in caves.

The cave was deep, mysterious, and slightly too small for the 32-foot boat to safely enter, with those waves. The captain lowered the anchor nearby and handed

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out the snorkeling masks. There were no fins or life jackets. Just as well. Mrs. Edgewater had been a competitive swimmer in grade school and high school, so she was as comfortable in water as on land. There was a magical place deep down when she looked in the window; tropical fish, sand, and scalloped rocks created a blue and green ecosystem that she wanted to go into, become part of, despite her mood. The bottom was far away.

Splash. Raja jumped in. Crash, as Astrid followed. Her turn.

Slowly, Mrs. Edgewater removed the warm towel from around her shoulders and stood up. This seemed to be a pointless exercise but it was too late.

“Come on, Edge,” Raja shouted. “It’s beautiful…” and she turned to swim inside the cave.

Mrs. Edgewater jumped into the air. Then cold. Cold and so wet. Horribly salty water seeped into her mouth as she tried to gasp. No air entered her lungs. She ripped off the mask and tread water, trying to breathe. Air. She needed air. No oxygen went into her system.

Her friends were far away. The boat seemed impossibly far. Inside the cave there was no beach, just ledge after ledge of rock. A wave washed over her head and stung her eyes. She swallowed water. Trying to swim, but achieving only a dogpaddle, Mrs. Edgewater headed for a rocky outcropping near to her. She

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grabbed the top edge of the rock but it cut her hand. Over the centuries, the water had scalloped out carvings in the rock, leaving sharp edges. But she was desperate.

She put both hands out and a wave lifted her up, then forced her downward into the cutting edges. She was pressed against the enemy rock. Her lungs did not work. She turned toward the boat and saw an enormous wall of water heading for her. With all the strength left, she pushed out into the wave, but it dashed her backwards. She saw, rather than felt, the submerged rock cut a double line down the back of her thigh. A ribbon of blood wafted into the sea.

Can’t sharks smell blood in the water?

Get to that boat.

It’s so hard.

Get to that boat.

Mrs. Edgewater gasped again like a fish thrown upon a pier. Her lungs were empty and the air came into her throat, but not into her lungs. She envisioned herself floating peacefully down 20 feet below, moving gently like an anemone, with the graceful flow of Ophelia. It would be so easy to slip under. Then be dashed against the rocks. She thought of her son, 30 years old now, but in her mind, he was 12 again and he admired her.

No.

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Get to that boat.

She remembered her swimming days. What had they taught in lifesavers class? Oh yes. Float. Float. Counterintuitively, she flipped over and arched her back. Another wave broke into her face but she was not able to inhale. She heard the captain yell:

“Are you okay?”

No, she mimed. Would he jump in and save her? He looked very concerned. Oddly, she was embarrassed and hoped her friends would not think she was drowning. Her throat ached as though she had been crying for hours. Days. She began a weak flutter kick away from the cave wall and toward the boat.

She was a superhero without superpowers. She saw the clouded sky through the level of water in her face. She was on her own. Her chest hurt unlike any other experience she had ever had.

The captain threw a lifejacket into the sea. It plopped nearby, but so far away. She batted toward it like a sick kitten with a toy. With a slow whip kick, Mrs. Edgewater grabbed it and hauled it under her.

It was a little bit better. Air came into the lungs with sweet relief, but it left too quickly.

“Are you okay?” the captain called.

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“No,” she peeped. He threw the ladder over the edge of the boat and she had a goal. Another quick breath came in. She was very weak. He held his hand out to her. She grabbed the ladder. Safe.

Safe? She could not pull herself up to the steps. As she held up her arm, he caught her wrist. With one powerful motion, the captain pulled her up from the water and set her gently inside the boat. Cold air. She collapsed on the bench. She lay down. That was worse. She was drowning. She tried over and over for a full breath but could only pant. She sat upright with a yogic straight back and tried to relax her throat. It hurt as if she had swallowed a balloon full of salted ocean.

In swim team they used to feel for their pulses in between races. Mrs. Edgewater put her two middle fingers on her wrist and felt for her heartbeat. Nothing. She felt the vein in her throat. No response. Was she dead? A zombie? Where was her old reliable heart?

Blood streamed down her leg, diffused with water. She did not feel a thing but the pain in her chest. The captain threw open the little door aft and pulled out the emergency first aid box. He grabbed the bottle of rubbing alcohol and patiently poured it over her wounds from the rocks. She vaguely watched him and wondered why it did not sting like crazy. She tried to regulate her breathing but it was impossible; the breaths came in gulping heaves.

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Suddenly, she felt sick to her stomach. Oh great. She must have looked green because the captain asked her again if she was okay. Nope.

“Are you going to throw up?” he asked nervously. She nodded and moved to the far side of the little boat. She did not want to barf into the pristine waters of the pirate cave. But nothing upchucked.

As she sat back, trying to breathe more easily, her eyes wandered out to her friends swimming in their own worlds. Oh, no. Raja was too close to those sharp walls. One wave would crush her into the rocks. Mrs. Edgewater squeaked and the eyes of the captain followed her arm pointing out to Raja. He whistled loudly and Astrid, who was closer, heard him. She looked at the boat and saw the captain signaling toward Raja.

“She is too close. She is too, too close,” he shouted in his thick accent.

Astrid glided quickly to Raja and touched her shoulder. Raja popped up, surprised, pulled out of the wonderland that Mrs. Edgewater had missed. Together, the friends swam back to the boat and easily climbed aboard.

“Are you okay?” Astrid asked Mrs. Edgewater, who looked peaked. She shrugged. The captain had felt her pain, she thought, and managed a smile.

They passed the high rocks where cliff divers jumped. There was a crowd up top, drinking their cocktails from plastic cups, and a smaller crowd in the water. A

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body slapped into the water from high above as people clapped and cheered. Mrs. Edgewater gazed at the cliffs with longing. She should jump. She had loved the high diving board back at the old pool. It would be an adventure. But she saw the distance she would have to swim to get to the staircase that led to the jumping off place. No.

“I’m going to jump,” Raja announced as she hiked up her straps and threw down her towel. “Edge, are you coming?”

No.

Raja dove into the aquamarine water and swam confidently to the cliff. Mrs. Edgewater fondly watched her go.

Next year. Mrs. Edgewater promised herself. Yes. She was determined to survive. Exercise. Eat right. Take Tai Chi. Because next year, like Raja, she would jump from those rocks into the sea.