Issue 20

Jessica Love

When Lana dove into the deep end of the country club pool, she was completely submerged only for a brief moment, before her pink, plastic floaties tugged her upward by her biceps to the surface. She didn’t need the floaties and only wore them because her mom insisted: just in case just in case just in case. It was all she ever did; insist Lana did this, did that. Lana floated face down on the water, goggles suctioning tight to her face, tiny seeps of air from her nose fogging the glass. A huge red rock the size of a watermelon sat on the bottom. Her first memories were of this pool and its concrete floor. This is where she learned to swim, doggy-paddling in the shallow end, and in all her eleven years of swimming in this pool, Lana hadn’t seen anything like this rock before.

Lana came up for air and looked at Nancy, her babysitter, who slept on a pool chair under a large multi-colored umbrella. They had come to the pool today because her mom had book club and her dad was gone for work, selling phones to neighboring towns. Lana’s Saturdays during the warm weather were usually spent here at this pool with a variety of sleeping babysitters.

The rock shielded something Lana couldn’t quite see from the surface. It had a purpose other than just to be a rock on a pool floor. She rolled over onto her back. Beads of water blurred the sun through her goggles. She wouldn’t be able to swim all the way to the bottom while wearing her floaties. Some kids in the shallow end splashed each other. A mom slathered sunscreen on the bare skin of her life-jacketed toddler. Nancy still slept. Lana’s floaties bobbed away, sailing in the light breeze.

She adjusted her goggles and took a deep, deep breath before diving down to the rock. Lana glided through the water easily without the weight of her floaties. The rock was slimy to the touch. Soft slimy, cool slimy, like too much dish soap in the kitchen sink. If Lana hadn’t been underwater there would’ve been no way she’d be able to push the boulder aside, but she knew that in the water she had strength. She was a better Lana, a stronger Lana. Like the time two summers ago when swimming with her dad in this pool, she held him up in her arms as if he was a baby doll. All things were possible in the water. A metal grate covered a drain with an opening just wide enough for her to squeeze through. She tossed the grate behind her and it floated to the bottom. The water around her shivered as Lana pulled herself down the drain. It was a tight fit, but she pressed her arms out in front of her, kicked her legs, and followed the current in the dark. She felt her lungs burning—stretching and yawning—but something small and bright inside her told her to just breathe, breathe in the water.

It was quiet and, unexpectedly, warm.

The drain opened to a wider pipe and Lana fanned her arms all the way around herself as she swam. Above, she heard tires crunching over gravel and knew that she must be somewhere under the country club parking lot. Her eyes adjusted to the dim water; she could see the white polka dots of her swimsuit and could just make out the ridges of the pipe.

What might Nancy do when she saw the Lana-less pool? Would she scream when she saw Lana’s floaties, half-deflated plastic lumps, swirling in the current? And how lovely her screams would sound from deep down the drain, muffled and distant.

On the bottom of the pipe, a herd of golf balls rolled and rolled, ramming into each other like angry boys in bumper cars. Even in the water, she heard their passage—the steady rumble onward. The golf balls seemed infinite, but at a point their forward movement reversed, creating a looping wall of once-forward golf balls turning backwards. They knew were they couldn’t go. Lana imagined that she was at the very edge of the country club where the golf course ends.

It was hard to tell time in the sewers. If it was still the same day, Lana didn’t know. She drifted in the sewer letting it lead her wherever.

The water whispered. Lana treaded for a moment, listening. She thought it could be her mom’s book club when her mom’s laugh bubbled and mingled with a man’s. But his was an unfamiliar voice, with registers too deep to vibrate in Lana’s sewer water.

Icicles formed, floating, spinning, and drifting. Some bumped against each other, their shape breaking, cracking, with each hit. Tiny slivers of ice swirled, irritating the surrounding current, then melted.

How much time do you have? his voice asked.

Enough, hers responded.

Eddies of warm water enveloped Lana, rippling over her body and seeping heat into every inch of her. Lana’s skin was flushed. Even submerged as she was, her cheeks burned.

I ran into Dave at the grocery store.

The water was silent, waiting. The man knew Lana’s dad.

Why would you do that?

Her mom’s voice rippled, sharp. Lana flinched.

Well, I didn’t do it on purpose.

Did you say anything to him?

I said hello. Like a normal person would say running into an old friend.

You shouldn’t have said anything.

No one’s making you stay.

With you. With him. No one’s making me stay anywhere, but at the same time, I’m trapped.

Is he hurting you?

The water rippled.

I don’t love him.

I love you.

Don’t say that.

It’s true. I’ve loved you since high school. I should’ve stopped you from marrying him.

It wouldn’t have mattered.

How do you know?

Because I was pregnant.

How is she?

Lana’s fine. She’s at the pool. With Nancy.

Cartwright? She’s your babysitter?

She’s new.

You trust her?

Why shouldn’t I? Have you heard something?

Reagan’s mentioned her. Her students talk about her. Nancy’s probably sleeping with the whole football team.

What does that matter? Is she going to fuck a quarterback at the public pool?

I just mean that she’s got other things on her mind.

Well, I trust her. Besides, all Lana’s other babysitters quit.

Her mom’s voice didn’t even sound like her mom’s voice. Its tone was wrong, its pitch too high. Lana had had lots of babysitters in the past year, but only in the past year. She remembered a time when Saturdays were meant just for Lana and her mom, and Lana didn’t want to listen any more.

The water ahead was murky. Even with her goggles, she couldn’t see very well. She didn’t know where she was or how far she had swum from the pool. Her skin had long since begun to prune, wrinkling out from fingertip to palm.

Something shiny was caught in a groove of the pipe—a thin silver ring.

Lana brought the ring close to her eyes. On its inner band, an engraving read: “For you, forever. –R.” She dropped the ring; it drifted down through the water, slow, and landed with a half bounce. More rings stretched out ahead of her, tiny glittering dots marking the path forward. Ones with diamonds, some with silver, and gold bands. She wondered who lost them. Moms who might’ve taken them off for washing dishes and, distracted by a phone call, accidentally knocked them down the drain. Or the dads who could’ve set them on the edge of everything and anything, so they wouldn’t get lost while they mowed the lawn or worked on the old junk motorcycle in the garage.

Lana followed these rings for a while until they started to disappear, one by one, and without the glittering the water was once again dark.

She found herself right at the opening to the pipe that led to her parents’ master bathroom. She didn’t know how she knew it was her house. She just knew. She squeezed herself into the pipe, the cool metal pinching her skin in on itself, and somehow, she fit. She slipped through the pipe until she was snug in the s-bend of the toilet bowl.

Her parents were fighting.

Where is she, Dave? I just want to find her.

Her mom’s voice shook the water where Lana treaded. It was different than it was before. There was a staleness in the water where her mom’s voice hummed.

It’ll be all right. The sheriff’s got search parties out right now.

Her dad’s voice was clear, crystal. His words enveloped hope. Who would think to look down the drain? His hope wouldn’t be enough. Lana waited for them to keep talking. But they didn’t. Her parents faded to different rooms in the house.

She followed her mom into the kitchen, where she heard the sink faucet turned on, and a moment later the water where Lana treaded turned hot and soapy. The water filled with suds so much so that even the tiniest hum of her mom was muffled.

She swam away and went to find her dad, but the TV in the living room was on and the TV in her parents’ bedroom was on and the radio in his office was on, and Lana didn’t know where to go. She couldn’t hear her dad through all the noise. Even if she wanted to call out to him, she didn’t think he’d hear her either. Unable to bear the noise, she floated through the pipes and slept where she thought the edge of their street would be.

Another day-night passed and Lana continued to explore her sewers. She was swimming in everything that ran down from the toilet, from the bathtub, from the dirty sink bowl, from the storm drains, from the gutters, and she wasn’t grossed out. She loved walking barefoot, never wore shoes unless her mom made her, and figured that if she could not care what her bare soles touched, then swimming in dirty water was easy.

She saw a small shoe, one that you would put on a baby or a doll, just for show, not for walking. Maybe a big sister or little brother thought to see what would happen if you flushed it down the toilet. She came upon a collection of small, soggy socks, and paused for a moment to see if any were hers, but they were all the wrong size.

Lana drifted through the water until she heard crying, loud and shaky and spewing. She realized she was under Nancy’s bedroom, and knew that Nancy was crying for her.

Lana was happy that Nancy was sad. Lana thought that hearing Nancy cry for her meant that Nancy loved her and was happy to have been her babysitter. Lana imagined that if she were to pull herself out of the drain right now that Nancy would wrap her in her favorite towel and hug her and beg her to tell Lana’s mom to let Nancy be her babysitter forever.

But Nancy’s phone rang and the crying stopped and Lana couldn’t find a drain that was close to Nancy’s room. So, she swam on.

She found, further downstream, large piles of buttons—popped off, pulled off, torn off, snagged off, ripped off—buttons. Buttons of all shapes and sizes and colors. They littered the bottom of the pipe like a pebbled pathway. She thought that no one would really miss buttons; they were easily replaced—by zippers or Velcro or forgotten, until years later, fingers hovering and saying—oh, I think this had a button once.

By the milky taste of the water, Lana knew that she was right underneath the cafeteria of her elementary school. Lana swam down the pipe as if she was walking down the school hallway past the principal’s office and past the boys’ bathroom and turned a corner. She knew that if she swam a little more down the pipe, she would find herself under the art room, which was the only class at school that she really liked. Mostly because of Mrs. Delowe, who always said something nice about Lana’s art. Her clouds were the best clouds of anyone in the class.

Under the art room, colors ran down the drain—orange, purple, pink, yellow, blue, green—all blending together into a dark blob of black-brown at the bottom.

Lana heard Mrs. Delowe’s voice above her, floating through the classroom, Settle down everyone. We’ve got important things to do today.

It was completely quiet as everyone, including Lana, waited for Mrs. Delowe’s instructions.

You’ve all heard about Lana, bless her, and we’ve all been praying for her safe return.

I heard she died, a shrill voice said.

A gasp from everyone. Chairs scratched floor and voices rumbled over each other fighting to be the loudest.

Lana’s goggles felt too tight on her face.

Yeah, that’s right. That’s what my older brother, Tommy, said. That she drowned at the pool at the club and that Nancy Cartwright was supposed to be watching her and when she realized what happened she got scared and cut her body up into little pieces.

Voices cracked in sobs and yips.

That’s enough, Donny. Enough, said Mrs. Delowe, her voice strained.

I heard that Nancy got mad at Lana and drowned her on purpose, another voice said, encouraged by the others.

I said enough, Mrs. Delowe yelled. Lana is just missing. And the whole town is worried and looking for her. That’s all we know for sure and we can just put our faith in the fact that she will be found.

Papers shuffled.

What we can do is make cards for Lana’s parents. As much as we are worrying, they are worrying ten times more. So, let’s show them we care.

Lana didn’t understand. Her throat itched. There was a small twisting in the middle of her stomach. What about a card for her? Why just for her parents? Lana thought that Mrs. Delowe, of all people, would’ve wanted to make a card for her, because she knew how much Lana loved to color and draw. But maybe Mrs. Delowe knew, somehow, that Lana wouldn’t be able to bring the card down into her water, because as soon as paper hits water, it starts to melt and crumble. She wouldn’t even be able to read it.

She swam on, slowly. For the first time since she came into the sewers, the water became heavy. Her arms burned with each stroke. She felt like crying, but she knew that tears couldn’t exist in water.

What seemed like hours later, Lana heard a small metallic clanging. She followed the sound and found a stream of pennies falling through the water and hitting the bottom of the pipe. Where had they come from? Above her, a cash register dinged. She was under the grocery store and imagined that these pennies fell out of purses and pockets, dropped in the checkout line and rolled to the drain, finding a home in the sewers. No one noticed when they fell out. No one looked for them when they dropped. No one ever wanted pennies, anyway.

Lana thought they looked pretty, shining copper in the water.

Later, she smelled maple syrup, and the smell was so surprising that she stopped mid-stroke. At the opening to a pipe leading upward, she heard the familiar sounds of the 24-hour diner her mom and dad sometimes took her to—the clanging of pans and the scratching of knives against plates. She knew she’d been to the diner at least a hundred times, but the only time she could remember now was going the day her grandmother died. She had only met her grandmother once. She lived in another state. Her mom woke her up before the sun was up. Lana’s mom hardly spoke during that breakfast, except to tell Lana that she would never treat Lana the way that her mom had treated her. How she treated her, Lana didn’t know; her mom promised only that it wouldn’t be the same. They ate blueberry pancakes until her dad called looking for them.

Trails of grease slunk through the water. They held their own shape, not conforming to the surrounding fluid. Lana pushed her fingers through the stream and beads of grease clung to her skin. As Lana swam on, she felt each bead of grease slip off, tumbling away from her and wondered if they would ever disappear into the water completely or stay grease forever.

She was getting sleepy and didn’t really know where to go from here. She thought about going back to Nancy’s, but after hearing what Donny said about her, Lana was afraid of what she might find out. She could return to her own house, but then she remembered the soapy water and the loud rumble of noise and the wrongness of her mom’s voice, and Lana couldn’t bear that again. She fell asleep in the current, floating on her back, letting the water cradle her downstream.

Lana woke to a tide of cold. The water had changed altogether; a new swirling stream flowed around her. She was no longer in the sewers but had floated all night to the river. She spread her arms all the way around her, flipped and twirled, stretching herself in the open water. It was the first time that she could look up and see light reflecting down. She swam to the surface and saw that, maybe thirty strokes away, a barge was slowly moving downriver. The riverbanks on either side were steep, and she knew there was no way she’d be able to climb out, so she swam over to the barge. She couldn’t tell what it was carrying and she didn’t really care. Lana swam under the barge and found a cluster of barnacles clinging to its underbelly. She made handles of the white barnacles and let the barge carry her on. She knew that it must be heading toward the sea, and the thought of seeing dolphins and starfish and floating on waves excited her. Lana imagined that she would swim to places no one had ever been before and would have adventures lit by the fluorescent glow of jellyfish in the deep.

In the barge above, the captain stood in his cabin, pouring his coffee and preparing for his day. His right hip pained him as it did when rain was in the forecast. He switched on his small, portable TV, turning the knob to the local news, and waited for the weather segment, sipping his coffee slowly. The pain in his hip burned deep in the joint and he knew that it must be bad weather on the way; he massaged his hip, consumed with the pain he couldn’t reach, and didn’t even hear the news anchor update the locals on the search for the missing girl, missing now for almost a week.