Heart crashing, I scrambled around the corner and across the small room, to the door. I burst out into the night. Cole was behind me, reaching out for me. He was between me and the ladder, but that didn’t matter. I climbed up on the railing, about to jump. But something was in the water beneath me. For one split second I saw—a face looking up. It was like seeing my reflection in the water, only I knew it couldn’t be, not in this blackness. Cole was behind me, and the boat was lurching, and my feet were slipping. I had to jump. Right away. Then I felt a blow of pain on the back of my head. I plunged into cold water. And it felt familiar and right. To be suspended like that, a particle of light. A relaxed kind of darkness settled over me.

Chapter 32

32

They say drowning is painless. People resuscitated after near drowning describe a deep chill, a feeling of weightlessness, then ringing in the ears and beautiful visions of light and color.

Yes.

Drowning is a good dream.

The lungs like full tumblers. Every other piece as light as air.

One time we’d stood on the deck of the ferry and had seen shooting stars overhead, Lucas and I. Nine years old, and we’d seen nine stars cross the sky. They seemed to be messages for us. Their light burned a long time before sizzling out into darkness. If you focused only on the stars, and shut out everything else, it was like you were the star, suspended in space, dazzling and bright. Heavy lungs, and all the rest flying like a star.

One time I’d fallen asleep on the beach and woken up underwater. I thought it was a dream, but it was really happening. At first I was scared. It was dark. I couldn’t see my own body, but I felt my hair floating around my face. Which way was up and which way was down? Then I saw pinpricks of light, phosphorescence around my body, invisible creatures with their visible light, and I saw a pale glow, moonlight. I was able to move toward the surface.

Where was I now? This seemed to be the place of lost memories, this depth of water near the edge of the houseboat. What else was down here? My father’s voice? That was something I couldn’t remember, I could never remember, no matter how hard I tried. But apparently it had been here all along, and I heard it, a deep roar in my ears. Take me out to the ballgame! He was singing. I almost laughed in delight. Nothing was lost after all. It had been here all along. What else was here?