A Life Without Water

by Marci Bolden

  “I just…” He faced the window again. “I’m ready to go home, Caroline.”

  “Tomorrow. Come eat before it gets cold.”

  She focused on opening the box and prying apart the disposable plates that had come with it. She’d set the table by the time he pushed himself from the wheelchair to join her.

  “Admit it,” John said flatly. She was expecting him to continue the fight, but he grinned and said, “That smells a hell of a lot better than asparagus.”

  “I never cooked asparagus on this trip. Not once.” She put a slice on his plate, then lifted a smaller one out for herself. She took a moment to smell the pizza. “Yeah, I can admit that smells damn good.”

  “Yes, it does.” He shoved nearly half a slice into his mouth and smiled as he chewed. “Heaven. That’s what that is.”

  She took a more measured bite, but had to agree with him. The pizza was delicious. She didn’t indulge often, but she never regretted it when she did.

  “I know this is hard for you,” he said after swallowing. “I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head. “We never were very good at being patient with each other.”

  “We were always good at fighting, though.”

  “Yes. We were always good at that.”

  “And making up.” He wriggled his brows at her.

  She shook her head in response. She dropped her pizza onto her plate and wiped her hands. “We fought too much. Katie shouldn’t have had to live like that.”

  “We never fought in front of her.”

  “She was never far away. She heard too much. She broke up our fights far too often.”

  He dropped his pizza, too. “We were—”

  “Young?” she finished for him.

  “Do you think we were bad parents?”

  “No. I think we were…struggling and we let that reach her. We shouldn’t have let it reach her. We should have protected her from our truth a little bit more.”

  “What truth?”

  She met his gaze. “That we were miserable.”

  “You were miserable,” he stated.

  “Fine. I was miserable. You were drunk.”

  He focused on his dinner. “Didn’t you tell me that we didn’t need to rehash all this?”

  She bit her lip. “Yeah, I did. Sorry. I’m going to go find the gym.”

  “You didn’t eat. Caroline,” he said when she stood. “You didn’t eat.”

  “Shouldn’t exercise on a full stomach, right?”

  “Don’t go.” His plea stopped her. He gestured toward her seat. “Please. I’m sorry. For once, let’s not take our stress out on each other. Please.”

  Carol hesitated before sitting. When she did, she paused again before picking up her pizza. They ate in silence for a few minutes before John exhaled loudly.

  “Tell me about something.”

  “What?”

  “Anything. I don’t like all this quiet.”

  She picked at her crust. “I’ve been thinking about what to do with the house. How would you feel about me donating it to the children’s hospital?”

  “What would a hospital do with a house?”

  “They’d let families stay there for free while their kids are getting treatment. Makes the experience a little less stressful.”

  “Like a Ronald McDonald house?”

  “Yeah. Something like that.”

  Though his eyes looked sad, he seemed pleased with the idea. “That’d be good. Yeah. I’d like that. Katie would, too.”

  She nodded. “I think so.”

  “You can do that, huh? Give them a house?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  He smiled. “Maybe you could put a swing set in the backyard. Make sure Katie’s room has a bed and a crib in case the family has little ones.”

  “I can do that.”

  The curve of his lips faded a bit. “I’ve got some money left. You should use that to fix the place up a bit. I want it to be nice. But, um…” He grinned that lopsided mischievous smirk of his. “I saw your house, Caroline. You should hire a decorator.”

  She opened her mouth and gasped. “Screw you.”

  He laughed as she wadded up her napkin and bounced it off his forehead. The mood between them lightened, making the rest of dinner more tolerable.

  “Think you can shower on your own?” Carol asked as she closed the box on what remained of the pizza. Thus far, she’d been able to avoid bathing John, but she didn’t think that would be the case for much longer. His mobility was fading by the day. The wheelchair had been helpful for longer distances, but she’d give him a few more days before it became a necessity for him to get around.

  “I’ll be okay,” he said.

  As he shuffled off to the bathroom, she grabbed her laptop bag and caught up on e-mails, including responding to a frantic plea from Tiana asking how much longer she’d be gone. She looked at the door where John had disappeared.

  Probably no more than a week or two, she typed, and hit send. Her answer nagged at her as she skimmed the rest of her e-mails.

  Probably no more than a week or two.

  John probably wasn’t going to live more than a week or two. Sitting back, she stared at the screen, but she didn’t really see the words in front of her.

  “Working again?”

  She looked up at John. His hair was slicked back, and he’d changed into the fresh sweats and a T-shirt she’d gotten from the RV.

  “One of us has to pay the bills.”

  He ignored her comment as he headed for the bed. “I need to take my meds. I’m wiped out.”

  She closed her laptop and followed him to the bed, where he dropped down. Even though he could pry the tops off the easy-open bottles, he struggled to get the right number of pills out. She tapped out the pills for his evening dosage, then snagged his water bottle from the table.

  She held her hand out as he worked to pick up and swallow each pill. The little bits of medicine slipped from his grasp, bouncing out of his reach. He tried again. Then again. His fingers clearly didn’t work as well as they had even the night before when they had gone through this routine, but she stifled the urge to offer to help. He’d tell her if he wanted her to take over putting the pills in his mouth. She’d wait for that to happen before stripping him of the dignity of taking his own medications. After some effort, he swallowed down the last pill.

  She set what was left of the water aside. “Ready to lie down?”

  He nodded, and she stepped back, there to assist if needed but letting him take care of himself as much as he could. He managed to get the blankets pulled back and stretched out on his own, but she did grab the blanket when he couldn’t get the soft material to cover his legs. She tucked him in and started to straighten up, but he grabbed her wrist.

  “Come here,” he said.

  She sat on the edge of the mattress by his hip, but he shook his head.

  “Come here.”

  “John.”

  “Caroline. Please.”

  Frowning at him, she gave in and lay down beside him, resting her head on his shoulder.

  He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her head. “Do you remember when we used to lie like this?”

  “Yeah.” When they’d first started dating, he would hold her like that and talk about their future. Things had been perfect back then, back when she’d believed she could have everything. Before life had opened her eyes to how truly mismatched they were.

  “You always left when I started snoring.”

  “Which never took very long,” she said, giving him a teasing poke to the arm.

  “You fit perfectly in my arms. Still do.”

  She pushed her breath out between parted lips when he hugged her closer to him. She wanted to remind him that she was a perfect fit for Tobias, but now wasn’t the time. Besides, he knew. John knew where her heart was. He didn’t need reminding.

  He ran his palm over her arm and entwined his fingers with hers. “Thank you for taking care of me.”


  “You’re welcome.”

  “Not just the last two weeks. Back then, too. You always took care of me.”

  Her heart tripped in her chest as his words and actions started to come together and paint a clearer picture for her. He was saying goodbye to her. He’d said goodbye to Katie. Now he was saying his farewell to Caroline. Squeezing his hand, she said, “You took care of me, too. In ways I never really understood until I was gone.”

  He kissed her head again. “We were a good team. I know we crashed and burned, but when it was good, it was damn good.”

  “It was great.”

  “Katie was the best.”

  “Yes. She was.”

  Stroking his thumb over her hand, he said, “I know going home won’t be easy for you. I’m sorry I was impatient.”

  She sighed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t ready today. I will be tomorrow.”

  “It’ll be nice to have you there with me. I’ve missed having you there.” He was quiet for a few moments before giving her one more light squeeze. “You should go to bed, Caroline. I know you’re tired.”

  She hesitated before sitting up. As she did, she looked into his eyes, wanting to make sure he heard her. “I’m glad you found me when you did. I didn’t realize how much I needed to make peace with you. Thank you for helping me do that. I love you, John. Despite all that we’ve put each other through. Despite all the anger I held on to. I love you.”

  His eyes filled with tears as he smiled. “I love you too, Sweet Caroline.”

  The only other time he’d called her that was when he’d asked her out on their first date. She hadn’t chastised him then, and she wouldn’t now. Resting her hand on his chest, she took a moment to memorize his face before putting a soft kiss on his forehead. “Sleep well.”

  She glanced back before flipping off the light above his bed. He was watching her. He always watched her. From the day they’d first caught each other’s eye in a coffee shop not too far from where they were now. Taking a breath, she went into the bathroom and started the shower as a cloud of depression moved over her.

  The end was no longer a distant thing that she could pretend not to see. Death was close, so close she could sense it. John could, too. His eyes had changed. He had accepted what was coming. He hadn’t lied when he said he was ready for it. Every word that came out of his mouth now was a goodbye.

  She wasn’t ready for another goodbye.

  Once steam started rolling from the shower, Carol tested the water temperature before climbing in. Alone behind the privacy of the thick white curtain, she pressed her hands to the wall and tried to brace herself for the pain she knew was coming.

  She’d spent the last two weeks facing Katie’s death. When John had shown up in her office the day before Katie’s birthday, she never would have imagined that she’d be back at this place for the anniversary of her death.

  Fate seemed to be mocking her. The universe seemed to be saying, You didn’t think you could run from this forever, did you?

  And the house… The house was equally cruel in its mockery of her predicament. Welcome back, Caroline, it seemed to say. I’ve been waiting for you.

  She swallowed the urge to vomit at the knowledge that she would take John home in the morning. Twenty-four years ago to the day, to the very day, she’d pulled into that driveway and her world had come crashing down on her.

  Caroline scowled as she pushed the front door open. “John?” Lugging in three grocery bags as her purse strap slid from her shoulder, she kicked the door closed behind her. “I need help with groceries!” Stomping loudly, she headed right for the kitchen and set the bags on the counter next to the open cereal box. Frowning at the half dozen or more empty beer cans on the counter, she jerked her purse the rest of the way down her arm and let it fall to the floor.

  The empty cans hadn’t been there when she’d left for work. Which meant that, despite his promise, he’d spent the evening drinking while he was supposed to be responsible for Katie. That son of a bitch. The night she sat him down and told him she was this close to leaving, he had promised he wouldn’t drink when he was the only responsible adult around. She knew it wouldn’t last. To be honest, she was surprised he’d made it this long.

  She walked to the bedroom and pushed the door open to find him sprawled on his stomach, snoring. She was tempted to wake him and give him hell, but with him passed out, she’d get a few hours of quiet time with Katie. That was worth letting him sleep it off.

  “Hey, kitty cat,” she whispered as she entered Katie’s room. “Mommy bought some waffles. You hungry, baby?” She crossed the room and tugged the blankets back. The only thing there was a pillow and Katie’s bear. The television hadn’t been on when she’d come in and Katie hadn’t been in the kitchen. She checked the bathroom. The room was a mess—toothpaste on the counter and clothes only halfway inside the laundry basket—but there was no sign of Katie. She did a quick cleanup of the room before going back to the living room. None of Katie’s toys were spread across the old, ragged carpeting.

  Suddenly her heart dropped to her stomach as her mother’s intuition kicked into high alert. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. The silence of the house was unsettling. The stillness oppressive.

  Caroline turned her gaze toward the sliding glass door. She focused on the pool and her breath stuck in her lungs at the sight of two little red rain boots sitting next to the ladder. “Katie!” She ran outside, not closing the door despite her constant reminders to her daughter to do so. The water in the pool was flat. Calm. Inviting. Tempting.

  Coaxing someone to climb in.

  There was no sign that anyone had given in to the urge to enter the pool, but Caroline knew her daughter. Katie was daring. Katie thought she was invincible. She didn’t understand why she couldn’t use the pool anytime she wanted. It was her pool. Grandma and Grandpa had said so.

  Even if Caroline had doubted Katie would be so brave as to climb into the pool alone, she didn’t doubt that she’d never have left her boots outside. The only times she ever took her boots off were to sleep, bathe, and swim.

  Caroline knew her daughter, and she knew, in that instant, why she wasn’t in the house.

  Because she was in the pool.

  Calling out to Katie, she ran to the edge and a panic-filled scream burned her throat.

  There she was. On the bottom. Beneath the calm water.

  The only thing moving was her long sandy-brown hair floating around her face. Her arms drifted over her head. Her eyes were open wide and her little mouth sagged from what would have been her last attempt at taking a breath.

  “No!” The plea ripped from Caroline as she climbed the ladder and jumped into the waist-deep cold water. She’d just made it to Katie when another body splashed into the water behind her.

  Grabbing Katie’s arms, Caroline pulled her to the surface, but the girl didn’t gasp for air like she should have.

  Caroline didn’t breathe either. She couldn’t.

  John grabbed Katie and dragged her limp body to the edge. By the time Caroline reached the ladder, he had Katie over his shoulder and was climbing out of the pool. He eased her to the grass, cradling her head to stop it from hitting the ground too hard, but it didn’t matter. Katie didn’t wince. Didn’t move. Didn’t feel any pain.

  Caroline sank to her knees next to her daughter.

  Katie’s blue eyes were open but unmoving. Unseeing. Lifeless. Her skin was a sickening shade of gray. She didn’t respond as John pushed on her chest, counting out compressions.

  “Help me.” He wasn’t exactly calm, but he wasn’t frozen like Caroline seemed to be.

  All she could do was look at Katie, not quite believing what she was seeing, but knowing it was true. Katie had drowned. While Caroline was at the grocery store buying waffles and strawberry-scented shampoo and grape popsicles, her baby had drowned.

  “Caroline. Help me.”

  She was too late. She’d gotten there too late.


  John bent down and forced air into Katie’s mouth.

  But it didn’t matter. Wouldn’t matter.

  No matter how many times he compressed her chest or blew into her mouth, Katie would never take another breath.

  John grabbed Caroline by the shoulders and shook her hard. His desperate gaze held hers. “Help me! Please!”

  Snapping out of her shock, she bent down and started breathing for Katie while John made her heart beat. Someone, a neighbor, called out that they’d called an ambulance, but Caroline had known it was too late the moment she saw Katie in the pool.

  She’d been there, sitting under the water, for too long to find her way back to them.

  Everything seemed to speed up and slow down at the same time. Caroline was stuck in some insane matrix where the world was spinning around her, she was moving like a robot—blow, blow, blow, rest—until someone pulled her aside. Hadn’t she just gotten home, just found her daughter at the bottom of the pool, and now the medics were there to take over? Hadn’t it only been a few seconds?

  John pulled her back enough that the EMTs could get to work on Katie. They shoved a mask over her face and one pumped oxygen while the other straddled her little body and pressed on her chest. He counted rhythmically while the gurney was rushed from the backyard. Then they were in the car and John was following the ambulance saying, “She’ll be okay,” over and over as if Caroline hadn’t seen this very scene play out a hundred times.

  Even if Katie lived, which she wouldn’t, she’d been without oxygen for too long. Her brain was too damaged to ever recover. She’d be brain-dead. What kind of life was that for her little girl?

  No. No. She wouldn’t be okay.

  Caroline knew that. She’d known that the moment she had allowed that damned pool into her backyard. She should have stood her ground—told her in-laws no. She should have made John get sober. She should have hired a babysitter. She should have done all the things she’d wanted to do but didn’t because she hadn’t had the strength to fight for them.

  She hadn’t had the strength to fight for herself. For Katie.

  And now she’d lost everything.

  Carol sat in the driveway of their old house, reliving that day, until John put his hand on her arm.