Chapter 12
Vera flexed her toes under the kitchen table as she aimlessly pushed her food around her plate with her fork. She was losing her appetite more and more, and the fact that her food was growing colder by the minute did little to remedy this.
Aunt Belinda and Uncle Richard had come home not long ago from work and let her sleep – as she had apparently passed out on the sofa for a short time – until dinner was prepared. She was clearly tired and still felt half-asleep as evidenced by the yawn she let out every now and then, but this hadn't stopped her aunt from bringing up the topic Vera knew she was eager to discuss – no matter how little she felt there was to say about it.
It wasn't like she had witnessed a murder and undergone some incredible challenge to evade the killer in cinematic fashion. As she repeatedly explained this to her relatives, she couldn't help but feel they were relieved and maybe even a bit disappointed at what had transpired.
Next to her aunt, her uncle sat silently as though monitoring the conversation, his arms folded across his chest. As dinner had progressed, Vera realizd just how quiet a man he was, especially when his wife had something to say or conflicts arose, and wondered if it was for these reasons more so than his disorganization as her aunt claimed that he hadn't taken over his father's business. He didn't want to fan the flames, but neither did he want to be the one to put them out, so he settled on distancing himself from such situations by allowing himself to recede into the background.
It didn't please Vera, but she couldn't say she had never done the same thing herself.
Therefore, it was her aunt, unsurprisingly, that did most of the talking.
"I realize you wanted to help, but that was still a terribly foolish thing to do," she chided and Vera fought off the urge to roll her eyes, having already listened to her aunt reiterate these words several times over the course of their meal thus far.
"What if you were seriously injured? How could I tell my sister that I let such a thing happen to her daughter while I was here?" The woman shook her permed head as though she couldn't fathom such a thought.
"But you weren't there, Aunt Belinda," Vera defended back. "I couldn't just stand by and watch some child drown. And I told you, I can swim; it's not like I jumped into a tsunami or anything."
"Yes, but such impulsive behavior will get your hurt – or worse. I understand your concern, truly. No one else was around, so you felt you had to do something. But I'd much rather you got help first – preferably from someone better suited to handle such a situation, rather than go off on your own. If something had happened to you, then that would be two people hurt, and we might not even know where to look for you; no one can help if they don't know you need it."
"My friends saw me, though," Vera pointed out, trying to state her argument.
"By mere chance." Shot down. "If they didn't that could have been the end."
Vera didn't like the lack of faith her aunt was now professing to have in her abilities. While she realized and wasn't so irresponsible as to deny that what she had done wasn't entirely safe, a part of her had hoped that her relatives would understand that she only had good intentions; her actions weren't suicidal or those of a reckless child.
What else was she supposed to do? Call the police and hope that they got around to finding the child before it was too late? Vera scoffed mentally at the thought. Fat chance.
"Again, I told you I was able to get the girl ashore, so it was okay. It was just after that-." Vera quickly closed her mouth. She knew she had lost the argument as soon as the last words passed her lips and instantly regretted saying them. And she knew that everyone at the table knew that, too.
"Just after that that the little girl was gone," Aunt Belinda finished for her in a serious tone that dealt the killing blow.
Vera clenched her jaw in frustration, not only because it was the truth, but because it proved that her actions had all been for naught. For a short time she had successfully saved a life, but it had ultimately been pulled away like the girl must have been pulled away by the water's tides.
The thought left a bad taste in Vera's mouth and a sick feeling in her stomach as it passed through her mind. Without even realizing it she had just admitted, unintentionally but truthfully, that she thought the child was dead. She had failed to save a child. A child was dead. The little girl had been safe with her, but then Vera had passed out, and in the next moment she was gone. A child was dead. Because of her?
The thoughts and feelings that washed over Vera in that moment sent a shiver through her body and she had to bite her lower lip to keep herself from letting out a noise of anguish. It was as if her emotions were finally catching up with her from what had happened, and a veil lifted from her eyes that had kept her from seeing and acknowledging the truth.
The little girl had been drowning before Vera had jumped in to save her, and somehow been pulled back into the water after Vera had pulled her out. She had been unconscious, so there was no way she could have survived if she went back under. It would be comparable to dying in one's sleep, only not from natural causes, Vera figured.
Tears were beginning to prickle her eyes and Vera blinked rapidly to keep them from gathering and falling. How could she have been so foolish and naïve, carrying on as if everything was okay? She had gone to work as if it were any other day, completed what was set before her as intended, met up with her friends and laughed, talked amicably about their plans for the near future, and assured them that everything was fine – that she was fine. How was it that she could be so horribly selfish? Her situation was nothing in comparison to that of the little girl's.
She was losing her composure.
From across the table, Aunt Belinda let out an audible sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes momentarily before opening them and looking back at Vera. "Just tell me – promise me, you won't do something like this again. That you'll call someone else for help first next time."
Vera wanted to reply, but she knew her voice wouldn't have come out if she did. She swallowed thickly and gave a wet sniff, and that's when it seemed her walls decided to crumble.
A look to her aunt's face, a small sound like a whimper, and salty tears were running down Vera's cheeks. As her expression fell apart so did that of her aunt's, and in seconds the older woman was beside her, one hand on Vera's back while the other rested against the back of her neck, pulling her forward and into the crook of her own neck.
"Oh, sweety," Aunt Belinda cooed, sympathy lacing in her voice as she stroked Vera's hair. "I'm sorry. I know we're all very worried, and it's a lot to take in." She planted a kiss against the side of Vera's head and moved to bring her into a tighter hug. "It's okay. It's okay. We'll figure this out."
Vera could say nothing, and let herself cry silently with the exception of the occasional sniffle and heavy but shaking breath. She didn't know for how long she sat there in her aunt's embrace as the woman offered gentle words into her ear, but she was in no rush to leave the comfort she found within her arms at that time.
On the other side of the table, Vera's uncle sat quietly with his hands folded in his lap, unperturbed by the scene before him.
Their food had gone cold, but no one seemed to care anymore.
