A late summer night. A dip in the water. The bay is warm. I have been afraid of water since I was six. A boy pushed my head down in the bathtub of a swimming pool. I have gasped for air ever since. You and I undress on the beach, and you carry me into the water to save my life. A million stars descend to illuminate the way. “Stand,” you say gently. “The water is only knee-deep.” My hands are on your shoulders, my legs are around your waist. We make a trail of phosphorescence. We celebrate the light.
Judy Bolton-Fasman is the author of Asylum: A Memoir of Family Secrets. Her work has appeared in many literary magazines. Find Judy at judyboltonfasman.com, on Twitter @jboltonfasman, and on Instagram @judybolfas.