The Lullaby

The vast blue stretched out around him in every direction; blinding rays of sun pierced the water’s surface. The frothy waves calmed the deeper he sank into the sapphire abyss. As he breathed slowly and evenly out of his tank, tiny air bubbles danced back towards the sun above. Life was all around him. In the brilliant fishes that swam past, and the odd shaped coral he skimmed his fingertips over.
He used to watch coral as some watch clouds; drifting by and trying to see dinosaurs or kittens in the twisted shapes. It was a nice enough distraction until one piece reminded him of something he did not want to be reminded of. He never played that game again.
Water slipped into his wetsuit and sent a thousand needles up his spine, but he didn’t mind. This was his escape. It was like another world down here. He didn’t have to think about who he was or where he came from. He didn’t have to have a name or a life or a history.
Why is it that everyone needs to know everyone else’s story anyway? Isn’t that the whole reason someone runs away; to escape their old story and start a new one? But humans are inherently nosey, hiding their curiosity behind tuna casserole and mini muffin baskets as they probe into their new neighbor’s former life. That’s how he finally ended up here. Fish don’t judge you and coral doesn’t ask questions.
All he needed was air in his lungs and he could sink into this different world and get lost, until the air ran out that is. He dreaded that time more than any other: the air running out. It meant he would have to wrench himself from this perfectly calm and quiet world or be lost forever. Time always ticked faster and faster as the air ran out. And before he knew it, he would be struggling to breathe, struggling for life. The life he wanted wasn’t where the air was. He didn’t want to trudge back up the beach. He didn’t want his brain to be out of the water where his thoughts ran wild and he couldn’t help but remember. He wanted to stay in the water forever, but forever was impossible; he should know that by now.
So he would have to slowly drift towards the surface. Staring upwards, the sunlight illuminated the water into millions of sparkling shafts of light. If there was such a thing, he figured this had to be what it would look like for the heavens to open up. Sometimes he would imagine that he actually was drifting towards heaven, that he would just keep floating, wetsuit and all, and finally break through the blinding light to what was waiting for him on the other side.
But the calm tranquility instead broke forth to tempestuous seas, and he fought the urge to go back under. He struggled up the beach, clamoring awkwardly over the sand in gear that had just seemed so graceful and weightless in the water. He ditched his fins and tank outside his tiny hut and went in to pour a glass of water. The fresh water mingled with the salty sea on his lips and burned his throat, but it felt good. Tiny grains of snow white sand stuck between his toes and in his hair. A slimy chuck of kelp clung to his leg and a sheath of grainy salt covered his body like a thin blanket.
He went back outside and picked up a shell. The shell was interesting. He tried to focus on its symmetrical curves, its porcelain white body clashing with its baby pink insides. He tried to focus on the scratches on its back, where a bird most likely went looking for lunch. He tried to focus on the tiny chips in the outer rim that put a subtle damper on perfection. True the shell was interesting, but not interesting enough.
Like a tidal wave, the old familiar thoughts came rushing back. They flooded his mind as if he had simply stayed under water forever and let the sea claim him. A woman’s left hand. Soft strawberry blonde ringlets. A child’s smiling face. Grilled cheese sandwiches and Goodnight Moon. A soft yellow baby blanket. A single tear streaming down a perfect cheek. A lullaby.
The memories were excruciating yet relieving. He craved them as much as he dreaded them. He never knew what he would see, but one thing was certain, he would always see them. No matter where he went, be it the top of a snowy mountain or the bottom of a salty sea, he couldn’t escape them. These pictures haunted him like the most terrifyingly beautiful ghost. He lay back on the sand and let the memories take control, there was no use fighting it.
When he awoke it was dark. The last blood red streaks of the sun were being swallowed by the sea. The thoughts of the family he once knew had gone. His mind had finally had mercy on him and went blank. He knew there was only one thing to do. And so, he grabbed his tank and descended once again into the blue that had turned to blackness. Deeper and deeper, to the only place he felt safe, to the only home he now knew. Finally he was calm. For a while, all he could hear was his own heart beat slowly in his chest. But gradually a song drifted into his ears. A lullaby. He knew it all too well. And as the air began to run out for the last time, the lullaby played, and he drifted toward the light above.