Day 2: Elena + Water
By the Riverside
It takes a certain kind of day for Elena to have the kind of night that finds her standing knee deep in the water under Wickery Bridge, without the faintest idea of how she got their. Her fingers immersed in the water, reaching for an invisible hand. She always awakens suddenly, jerking her hands out of the water.
With shallow, shaky breaths, she forces herself from the water, towards the boy waiting for her. Silently, Tyler wraps a towel around her and leads her along the trail that leads to his backyard. He leads her to the guest room adjacent his own and tucks her into bed like a child, holding her hand until she falls asleep. When she wakes up in the morning, he's sound asleep in the chair, his head propped on her hip, their fingers loosely intertwined.
She doesn't know how he knows. How he's there every time she is, but she's grateful. Days when she can barely get out of bed, days she sees their faces (Mom, Dad, Jenna, John, the list grows) just around every corner. Days she feels like she left her heart at the bottom of that lake. Those are the kind of days she falls into bed and sleep deeply, until she awakens to slime between her toes, tears streaming down her face as her hands search for something unknown.
And every time she turns to go back to the shore, he's there, waiting. He sits quietly, watching her, a towel folded neatly beside him. He bundles her up and leads her back to his house, sometimes she's so weak, he carries her in his arms like a child. He stays with her all night, but there's nothing romantic about it. He holds her hand so she doesn't feel alone, he stays so she won't wake up to find another person gone, not even for a second.
Her nighttime excursions are never mentioned between them, he simply leads her downstairs, and his mother stuffs her full of breakfast, smiling at her tenderly. Then he drives her home before anyone else wakes up. She's in the shower by the time they finally stir.
She doesn't know what she's searching for, doesn't know why she only searches on those days she feels at her lowest, but she knows she's glad he's there every time. If it weren't for him, she might sit on the bank forever, the frozen statue of lost girl.
Some nights are worse than others, sometimes she wakes up when her feet touch the water, sometimes she's almost completely submerged, but her hands are always searching. He's always there to make sure she gets back safely.
Once, she completely submerges, and that is the only time he leaves his place on the shore. He dives in after her and tugs her right out of the water, deposits her right onto the bank and then wraps the big old towel around both of them. She can't tell who is shaking more, her or him. His heart thunders against his chest, and hers races against her own chest. They drag ragged out of sync breaths through their lungs.
It takes them twice as long to get to his house that night.
It's the only time she asks him why. He shrugs and tells her, "Someone should be there."
He doesn't answer when she asks him how he knows. So instead she asks what she's looking for. He smiles at her. It's a smile full of pity.
"Your heart."