Story-A-Day #14: Chilled

CHILLED

Even though it had only been three short months, the horrible moment was still ingrained in her head, a violent reminder of how quickly things can change. It’s not the kind of lesson a 17-year-old girl needs.

A 17-year-old girl should be worried about her looks (no matter what mum says), and boys, and whether she will have someone to dance with on Friday night. Homework should be her only burden, not a guilty soul.

She looked out over the choppy waters, splashing up onto the icy shores in wet thwaps of cold foreboding. The lake had been different on that warm August afternoon, full of people, children, families, and even a few dogs.

She had been sitting up in her lifeguard chair, scanning the crowded water looking for anything that might be out of place. Children flopped and dove in the water, splashing playfully.

Then the scream. She jumped from the chair and sprinted out into the water. The woman’s scream had continued uninterrupted, a high pitched warbling that ripped along the lengths of the beach.

The girl was still, a small angel with her hair splayed out around her floated there. She had picked up the little girl in her arms, carried her back to the beach, and went through the processes she had been trained to perform. There was no sputter, no mouthful of water ejected, no sudden gasp for life-giving oxygen. Despite all her efforts, the girl was gone.

It wasn’t supposed to be like that. She was 4-years-old and should have lived to be at least 84.

The young girl’s father had threatened to sue, but the mother eventually talked him out of it by saying that she was right there with their daughter and it was her fault as much as anyone else’s. Still for a 17-year-old, it was almost too much to bear. It had been her responsibility and while accidents do happen, this one had happened on her watch.

Out there in those cold, foreboding waters.

She would probably get it over in time; time is the great healer after all. At the moment though, she wanted to submerge herself in those icy waters and let them form a thick icy shell around her. Preserve her endlessly and shelter her from the guilt. Still she was 17, and unlike that poor girl whose life ended so suddenly, she had a lot of living ahead of her.

Chilled, she pulled her sweater tighter around her. She would meet a boy and fall in love. She would dance with someone on Friday, probably her desk mate from art class. She would live, and learn, and love, and grow, and this day would always be with her as a reminder of how precious life is; of how quickly it could all change.