Her One Mistake(41)

Soon Harriet was swimming, farther out till she had to tread water to stay afloat and keep her blood circulating. Each time she sank her head under, only the basic desire to survive brought her back up again.

? ? ?

DESPITE TELLING ANGELA she couldn’t swim, there was actually a time when Harriet swam in the sea every week of the year. Christie, her friend from university, had gotten her into it. Harriet loved the euphoria she felt when she let the water consume her. Nothing compared to that moment of pure bliss when she became part of nature and it a part of her.

Then one day she stopped. It was six weeks into her wonderful new relationship with Brian. He’d surprised her, showing up at her door with a large picnic basket and driving thirty miles to the beach.

“I know it’s your favorite place,” he’d said, and she’d felt herself falling even deeper. She remembered praying nothing would jeopardize their relationship. No one had ever made her feel so special.

On the sand Brian had laid out a checked blanket and they’d talked and laughed and fed each other strawberries.

“Doesn’t it look inviting,” she said, nodding toward the water as they held hands and wandered to its edge, paddling as the waves lapped around their feet. The tide pulled out, farther than before, and sent the water swishing back to them rapidly and much more forcefully. Harriet shrieked with childish delight, but Brian had leapt back, a look of ridiculous panic on his face.

“I’m going to sit on the blanket,” he’d said and turned on his heel, leaving her no choice but to follow.

Back on the safety of the sand, Brian’s face was flushed with embarrassment as he admitted that not only could he not swim, he also had a fear of the water. She begged him to open up to her, but the more she’d pushed, the more he’d withdrawn, until he’d eventually snapped, “I don’t like to talk about it. But something happened to me as a child.”

He’d looked away and Harriet hadn’t said anything, just reached out to him, touching his leg. Brian had flinched and said quietly, “My mother wasn’t that attentive. She thought it didn’t matter if I went into the sea on my own when I was six years old. Didn’t even notice I’d been dragged under the water till some stranger shouted out to her.”

“Oh, Brian,” Harriet had said. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s really not a problem,” he’d said with a sudden turn of tone and began packing up the unfinished picnic. Harriet knew she needed to do something. The day was turning sour and she could already feel Brian slipping away from her. With an overwhelming sense of pity and fear that she might lose him for good, Harriet told him the first thing that came into her head, which was that she couldn’t swim either.

Brian had stopped packing away the food and turned to her. He’d cupped her face in his hands, and with a serious look told her, “I’m now absolutely certain that we’re right for each other.” He seemed so grateful at her little white lie that at the time she didn’t think about its consequences—that while they were together she would never be able to go into the sea again. But then she was so in love with Brian, it seemed such an easy thing to give up.

Harriet had lived with her lie ever since. She’d lost touch with many of her friends, including Christie, not long into her relationship with Brian, so there was no threat of him finding out the truth by accident. The subject rarely came up now, but if it did, Harriet had simply gotten used to telling people she couldn’t swim.

? ? ?

THAT SUNDAY MORNING Harriet drove home and was back in the house by 7:40 a.m. Brian was still asleep, so she crept into the bathroom, burying her wet suit at the bottom of the laundry basket where he’d never find it. The smell of salt water was hard to hide, and as she let the warm water of the shower cascade over her body, she wondered what Brian would actually do if he found out.

“All I ask is that you’re truthful with me, Harriet. It’s not too much to ask for, is it?” He always begged her for honesty. As if there were much honesty in their marriage.

The following morning Harriet’s phone pinged with the alert of an unexpected text.

“Everything okay?” Angela asked as Harriet stared at the message.

“Yes. I’ve just heard from an old friend.”

“Oh?”

It was a surprise to her too. “It’s funny,” Harriet said, “I was only thinking about my university friends yesterday and now one of them has texted me.”

“What does it say?” Angela asked as she filled a bucket with water. She’d offered to clean the kitchen floor, though it looked spotless to Harriet.

She read the text aloud. “?‘I don’t know if this is still your number, but I saw you on the news. I want you to know I’m thinking of you. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.’?” Harriet looked up. “It’s from my friend Jane. She was one of my best friends at uni. She, Christie, and I did everything together.”

“That’s nice that she got in touch with you.”

“Yes it is. I haven’t seen her for ages. Well, neither of them, actually.”

“Why’s that? Did you just drift apart?” Angela turned off the tap and heaved the bucket onto the floor. Harriet wondered if she was expected to help, but cleaning was the last thing she wanted to do.