Dear Meredith (8 page)

            And now, this. My fear of water is such a sensitive point with me, that I refuse point blank to have a prolonged discussion about it. And if I am truly honest with myself, I know I would never have attended, or even considered, the swimming lessons if Mike hadn't asked for it in his letter, written in secret while he was dying.

           
You've shrank your world down and set barriers for so long that you now think they've always been there. 

           
Janet's words ring in my head, the truth in her voice as clear as a bell. But I've started breaking down those barriers now. They've crumbled just a little, in my half-hearted attempt to honour Mike's request. But now, I realise that I
want
this for myself now. I want to be able to swim without fear incapacitating me.

            I want to be free.

Chapter 9

            I'm waiting for my fish and chips to arrive when I suddenly spot Grant and Ginny walking into the restaurant. He is casually clad in jeans and black tee, while she is a spot of sunshine in a yellow jumper.

            They take a booth seat near the door, and I notice with amusement that one of Ginny's braids is lopsided and coming undone, the little blue ribbon clasping it slowly but surely slipping off with every swing of her head. Like me, they must have slipped in for a quick bite before our lesson in two hours' time.

            Suddenly, I am hit with the utter conviction that Grant had braided her hair. Where is her mother? I've never seen any woman make an appearance at the pool, and now, it was just her and her father flying solo again.

            My gaze is drawn to his face, which is frowning slightly as he browses through the menu. He has incredible cheekbones, set high up and broad enough, while his stern nose and green eyes are enough to earn him a tenner on the Laney-Meredith Hot Guy Rating System.          

In fact, I know just how to describe him. A sort of cross between Johnny Depp and Robert Downey Jr, but more Iron Man and less Jack Sparrow.

            "Here you go, one fish and chips, extra cheese," intones the waiter, who suddenly appears beside my table. His name tag says he is Dan, and it seems like Dan is incapable of cracking a smile. I really don't blame him, however. If I had to wear a striped uniform in bileous yellow and green, I'd be pretty depressed myself.

            After thanking him, I go back to people-watching as I eat, except now I'm just pretty much checking out Grant and Ginny, since they're the only two people I recognise here.

            They're having a conversation, quite a serious one by the look on Grant's face. However, he suddenly breaks into a smile as she dissolves in giggles, and it's quite clear to me that he adores her. Just then, the waitress approaches again, and I can almost see his face closing up again, the shutters going down as he puts on a polite smile.            I find myself consumed with curiousity. What's his story?

Although we've been swimming, or whatever we do that passes for swimming, alongside each other for over eight lessons now, I still don't know much about him. Of course, he doesn't know much about me either, although I sometimes get the feeling he would like to ask.

            In fact, I realise with a jolt, Grant reminds me of
me.
Fiercely private, letting into my life only those whom I trust not to hurt me. I don't know if he is like that by nature or whether, like me, because something had happened to make him that way.

            I suppose it is natural, then, that my thoughts swing to my elder brother, Jamie. I have not seen him in over ten years and I have no idea where he is. When I met Mike five years ago, I was even worse than I am now. The only friend I allowed myself was Laney, everyone else was just passers-by in my solitary life. Although I could sense right away that there was something special about Mike, it still took me a long time before I decided to fully trust him with my secrets.

            Lost in thought and eating without really tasting the food, I suddenly cannot breathe. I've had choking fits once or twice in my life before, but
nothing
like this. I try to cry out or cough, but only a faint wheezing sound comes and panic starts flooding my system as I realise I can't breathe.

            I start banging the table and clutching at my throat, while my senses narrow in on the piece of fish obstructing my airway. My thrashing alerts the diner next to me and I hear the woman raise the alarm, her panic suddenly causing some of the other diners to fall silent.

            "Oh my God, she's choking!
Help!"
Chaos explodes and I am beginning to see dark spots in my vision when I hear a calm voice I recognise - Grant's. "Meredith, I'm going to help you, you're going to be okay. You there, sir, please call emergency services," he says.

            I feel woozy as he starts giving me back blows between my shoulder blades, my body swaying with the impact as he counts, stopping when he reaches five. Oh God, I don't want to die in a fish and chips restaurant - the thought flashes across my brain, as he wraps his arms around and positions his hands against the middle of my abdomen. I feel a horrible, jerking sensation as he pulls upward, once, twice, thrice, and all of a sudden, the chunk of fish shoots out of my throat and I draw in a huge, ragged breath as I feel my insides trying to crawl up and escape.

            Trying to shiver, cough and gag all at once, it's all I can do to fall into my chair and bend down, letting the blood rush to my head. I hear Grant's tense voice somewhere near my ear, as the diners let out a cheer that I didn't collapse and die. "Are you okay?"

            I weakly hold up my hand, making the A-OK sign with my thumb and index finger. I am stunned, reeling from the events of the past minute. I could have died.
I could have died
. From a freaking piece of fish. This thought runs round and round in my head like a terrified rabbit and I know I have to stop
right now
before I go into meltdown.

            I now hear Dan the Waiter talking to me, his voice not sounding so robotic now as he assures me that my meal is now on the house, and would I like a glass of water or a doctor?

            I accept the glass of water, feeling the liquid ease down my painful throat. I feel nauseous looking at the remainder of the fish and chips on my plate and quickly look away. Now that I'm getting over the shock to my system, I realise that Grant has saved my life for the second time in weeks.

            "Hey," I croak ungracefully as I reach their table. "Are you okay?" Ginny asks, bouncing up and down with excitement.     

            I slide in beside her. Grant smiles at me and I'm glad to see it's his real smile, the one that lights up his eyes. "Hey Ginny, yes your daddy's a real hero." I lean in closer, whisper in her ear. "I think he might be Superman."

            Her eyes widen and she claps her hands to her mouth as she giggles. "But Superman has to wear his underwear outside and Daddy doesn't do
that."

           
Grant stops eating, amused by our conversation.
Go on, get out of that,
he seems to tell me, one of his brows arching slightly.

            "Well, he's probably off-duty," I fumble.

            It's then that Ginny says the most unexpected thing. "Oh, you're
right.
Clark Kent is Superman and he works for The Daily Planet when he isn't hunting down bad guys. Daddy is a writer too!"

            "
Really?
" I stare at him, startled.

            He takes a deep breath, furrowing his brows for one moment as though he's in pain. Finally, he meets my gaze. "Yes, really, although it was
supposed to be a secret
," he emphasises, looking sternly at Ginny, who looks stricken and claps her hands to her mouth.

            "But why?" I ask, confused.

            "Well, I'm writing a feature on our swimming lessons. See, I've never learned to swim before. Back where I grew up, we put on more parkas than trunks, if you know what I mean. But then Ginny here came along, and I didn't know the stork had brought me a waterbaby."

            He smiles at her. "I never thought the day would come when I'd voluntarily jump into water but Ginny has been begging me to learn so I can bring her to water parks and scuba diving."

            Ginny nods enthusiastically and I can't help grinning at her. She really is the most beautiful child.

            "That's awesome, Grant. But I don't get it. Why is your being a reporter a secret?"

            "I just didn't want a change in perception to alter the experience. For example, I don't want Milo to start acting differently just because he knows I'm going to write about it. You'd be surprised how people change their behaviour, whether consciously or unconsciously, when they know you're a writer."

            I have to laugh in agreement. "Yes, I suppose that's true. Well, your secret is safe with me."

            "I hope so," he says, his green eyes unreadable.

            Suddenly, I remember why I've come over and I flush blood red with embarrassment, not a good look with hair like mine.

            "Grant, thank you for saving my life. Again. Seriously, I don't even
know
what happened over there but thank God you were here. I was seconds away from blacking out," I say quietly. I can still feel the phantom piece of fish lodged in my throat, like a malicious squatter that refuses to be evicted.

            "Hey, like I said, it isn't everyday that I get to help a damsel in distress. I'm just glad my Heimlich worked. Good thing I had to attend a hostile territory training course last month, when I did a feature on warzone journalists. Besides CPR, we also learned things like how to move during gunfire as well as how to pick the safest hotel room," he says.

            I am fascinated. "Warzone journalists and now swimming lessons? What kind of writer are you
,
exactly?"

            "I have a column in The Globe, where I sign myself up for new experiences and write about them so the readers can live vicariously through me. It's quite a popular column because they can send in suggestions for me." Suddenly, his mouth quirks into a cheeky grin which does strange things to my stomach. "I'll be sure to include the heroic parts where I save the beautiful lady's life twice for the piece I'm working on now."

            "Well, here's a quote you can use - 'The lady has never felt so embarrassed in her whole life, and reminds readers that they should always check whether they're in shallow water before deciding to have a panic attack'," I say sheepishly, while he gives a shout of surprised laughter.

            Ginny, who has been wriggling impatiently on the seat and picking at her food, decides to join in the conversation. "So why did you sign up for swimming lessons, Meredith? Do you want to go to water parks too?"           

            I hesitate, caught off-guard. I can feel Grant's curiousity as well. My reaction at the pool that day  had been something no ordinary learner would have done.

            "Well, no. But I almost drowned when I was not much older than you, Ginny. I've never dared to enter the water since. But now I've decided to try again, because I don't want to be scared anymore," I say, Mike's words coming unbidden to my lips.

            She thinks about it for a moment or two, before giving a decisive nod. It's a peculiarly endearing gesture, such an adult action for one so young. "Not being scared is good. I'm scared of the dark," she confides in a whisper. "Daddy says I'm a big girl now, but I still need Sulley and Mike to keep me company when I go to bed or the bad monsters will come in my sleep."

            I look at Grant, trying to ignore the jump my heart gave when she said "Mike".

            "Her Monsters Inc. nightlight," he explains, his face giving away nothing as he listens to the conversation between us.

            Ah. I take her little hands in mine, as she looks up at me trustingly. "It's okay to be scared of things. Adults are scared of lots of things. Fear isn't bad or wrong, but allowing it to control us is. I was scared of swimming for a long time and the thought of water parks would send a shiver down my spine."

            She gives me a look which plainly says she can't understand how anyone can be scared of water parks. I press on. "When I first saw you dive into the water during our first lesson, I was so impressed, Ginny. I thought you were one of the bravest girls I've ever seen."

            "Wanna hear a secret?" She nods eagerly. "I managed to be brave enough to dangle my legs in the pool that day because I had seen
you
do it. You helped me, Ginny."

            I see this slowly sink into her and her face lights up in wonder at the idea that I had thought her brave. She clambers up onto the booth seat and flings her arms around my neck in a  shy hug, and I suddenly feel that it was worth almost choking to death today because I got to have this conversation with her.