Figment of Dreams - The Skylar Rains Series I

5 years ago

The ocean was lapping at my feet as I watched Jax, Miro, and Lenn try to stand up on their surfboards. Behind me, the barbecue was still smoking as Jax’s dad, Maddox, cleaned up the mess we made during lunch. I was reflecting on last night when I’d been stuck in the nightmare of the pool with the kid again. Jax had played his role of best friend, soothing me afterward and talking my frantically beating heart down a bit.

It was week two of our holiday, and I was loving every minute of it when I was awake.

“Freckles, come on!” I saw Jax getting frustrated with my lack of enthusiasm about the water. I used to love everything about the ocean. I’m the one who put these Rainers in the sea because they apparently don’t have oceans like ours where they come from. Theirs are flat waters with no waves.

Unfortunately, I’d had an accident in the water two years earlier that left me really scared of the sea. We were on holiday in Costa Rica with the Skylars when, all of a sudden, during snorkeling, I got stuck underneath a rock due to heavy undercurrents. I panicked, I screamed, I got so much water in my system that I started choking to death under that cavern.

The waves and currents kept pushing me back toward the darkness. All I could think about was that I was going to die in the thing I loved most: the ocean. I started hating it then. By some miracle, I survived that day. Jax has been trying to revamp my love for the water ever since. I knew he had a point—that I should get back in there. Otherwise, I might never be able to. But it had been two years, and the fear still grabbed me by my throat like a choker that was on too tight.

“I can’t, Jax… I can’t…” I felt the panic rising at the thought of being forced into the ocean. I started to back away.

“Hey now…” He ran out of the water, a surfboard under his right arm. He was wearing his long black surf trunks, a long wet mane dripping down his back. His eye was still bruised and blue from the tumble he took down the patio stairs two nights ago. He dropped the board with a loud smack on the wet sand and grabbed my shoulders tightly.

“You know I’m here, right? I won’t let anything happen to you. Ever. Okay?” I nodded, tears brimming. I knew he wouldn’t. I trusted him with my life. He grabbed my hand. “We’ll just go till our thighs and no further. Every day, we’ll go a little bit further until you can swim again. Freckles, we got this.” He grabbed my hand and pulled. Shaking from head to toe, I took a few steps. I was squeezing his hand so hard I thought it might break. But I stepped forward.

So that summer, we tackled the ocean one step at a time. Every day, we walked into that ocean, hand in hand, trying to go as far as my shaking body would allow. After, we drank hot cocoa on the porch—my go-to drink for anxiety.

By the end of the summer, I had taken my first swim with shaking legs and a trembling upper lip. As I went under that first time, I panicked so hard I started to hyperventilate. Jax hugged me so tightly I had bruises the next day.

We breathed in and out together. He said he was proud of me for trying it. And as we were walking back out of that ocean on the last day of summer, I truly looked at him, and for the very first time, saw the love of my life looking back at me.