The Art of Not Breathing(34)

“Don’t blame yourself.” Tay almost shakes me. “It’s not your fault. You were only small. The water out there is so unpredictable. If you get caught in a rip tide or a strong current, it’s impossible to hold on to anything. Trust me—I know.”

He passes me a cigarette and says he wants to hear more about Eddie. We sit and smoke while I tell him Eddie stories. Tay laughs at the story about the dog and Eddie hanging on to the lead.

“What was wrong with him?” Tay asks, when I take a break from telling stories.

I flinch slightly at the question before remembering that it’s a normal thing to ask.

“A few things. We don’t know, really, or at least Mum never told us. The doctors kept changing their minds, but it was probably to do with being starved of oxygen when he was born.”

“I’m sorry,” Tay says. “He sounds like a cool kid.”

When it’s nearly time for me to go, I feel sad. It’s been a long time since I shared Eddie like this, and rather than giving part of me away, I feel like I’ve gained a bit more of Eddie.

“The hardest thing,” I say, “is that we don’t know what happened to him. Sometimes I think that we’re all just waiting for him to turn up. I wish that we’d found him so we could have said goodbye properly.”

Tay makes a choking noise, and I feel bad for burdening him, but then I look up and he’s just coughing.

“You can say goodbye in your head,” he says quietly. And then he says, “Maybe it was a good thing that you didn’t have to see him. Bodies that have been underwater don’t look human.”

My head instantly fills with nasty images of mutilated zombies. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

I try hard to picture Eddie underwater but alive: his dark curly hair bouncing in the current, his lips red and smiling.

“Sorry,” Tay replies, looking confused. “I wish I could help.”

I turn to him. “There is something you can do.”

“Of course. Anything,” Tay whispers.

“Help me get to the drop-off.”

His mouth falls open. “No way,” he says defiantly.

“Yes way. I think it’s where Eddie would have ended up. I want to go down there and see.”

“What do you think you’re going to find?” Tay’s eyes are wide in horror.

“Nothing. I don’t know. It’s not like I think he’s still down there, but I just want to go to where he died. You know, like if someone dies in a car crash, the family all go to the place where it happened to put flowers and notes there. I want to do that.”

“And if someone falls into a river, the family put flowers on the bridge or by the side of the river. Not in it.”

“Only because they can’t go in the river. But that’s the difference, Tay. I can go down. I know how to. It’s the only way to get closure.”

“That’s not the way to get closure. The best way to let go is to start living your life.”

“You just said you’d do anything for me.”

“I would. But it’s too deep. It’s impossible. You’d need to hold your breath for at least four minutes.”

“I just want to say goodbye.”

Then he pulls me around to face him and presses his body into mine.

“Okay, here’s the plan. I’ll think about it. But we have to lie low for a bit, stay away from Danny and the harbor.”

“I’m not giving up diving.”

“I’m not saying that. I’m saying that we’ll have to make sure no one sees us. We dive at night.”

“In the dark?”

“Yeah, it’s even better in the dark. That’s the thing with art. You have to always look at it from a different perspective.”

“You’ve lost me. What’s art? The sea?”

“Diving. Every dive is different, and two people doing the same dive will have different experiences. And if you dive in the same spot at a different time of day, it will be different. It’s the same with a painting. If you look at a painting in different light, or even no light, you’ll have a new perspective on it. Don’t you think?”

I raise my eyebrows. “Are you crazy? The drop-off is too dangerous but diving in the dark isn’t?”

But I feel a thrill bubble away inside me.

I long for the dark.

“The sea comes alive at night,” Tay says. He kisses my collarbone, and then he moves his hand up inside my sweater. I don’t stop him. I’m not sure if it’s the crazy amount of nicotine racing through me or Tay massaging me that’s making me dizzy, but I let him lay me down on the floor. He lifts my top right up and pulls my bra down, and then his mouth is on me and he’s telling me how nice I taste. I wait for Eddie to pop up and force me to stop, but he doesn’t. Eventually, Tay stops of his own accord and pulls my sweater back down. He looks worried.

“Thank you for not running off,” I say.

“Why would I run off? That’s crazy. I’m not going anywhere.”

Tay’s arms tighten around me.

“I miss him,” I say. “I miss my brother.”





15



THE NEXT DAY, TAY IS DIFFERENT. I TRY TO SNUGGLE INTO HIM so we can plan our night dive, but his arm is stiff and I can’t get comfortable.