An Afternoon Swim
'My sister will drown at 4PM this afternoon.'
JV’S NOTE: Every month, the literary journal, HAD, posts a last-minute prompt and opens its submission period for an hour with a 750-word limit. I wrote this story for this month’s issue, but by the time I submitted, they’d been filled. Those idiots!
Prompt and story below:
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HAD Prompt:
‘Simone de Beauvoir once said beginnings are sheer acts of choice. Eliot believed the end and the beginning are all entangled. Anything that falls in-between is collateral. There must be a reason new beginnings are rarely gentle and often messy.
‘Send me anything that explores why that might be the case. Think in terms of a fresh start, a clean slate, the beginning of a long journey, a reset, whether it be literal, metaphorical, or spiritual.’
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My sister will drown at 4 PM this afternoon.
I know it’s a lot to drop on you, but it’s just going to happen. People say I can be dramatic—and a lot of the time that’s pretty accurate—but today I’m telling you the truth.
You can stop her if you want to. Technically, you still can. My mother’s phone number is (555) 712-7454, and she always picks up if you call her twice. Marianne Jacobson is her name.
The story is this:
At 4, Lulu will go face down in the jacuzzi. Purposeful, at first. She and her friends will be trying to handstand, with their feet out of the water and kicking and all of that. The other three will come up for air before they realize my sister is drowning—before they see her braid caught in the drain.
It’s not going to be the best death, I know. Lulu’s going to have to suffer. Her friends will run for parents and pull and yank at her scalp, and by the time someone thinks to get scissors, her face will be blue. She won’t exactly be dead, but resuscitation won’t work. And then she will be.
I’d tell Mom, but then we’d have a problem. Lulu’s best friend Jenna is gonna be there, and while everybody else is running around and trying to rip her hair out, Jenna is going to be like stock still and not moving at all, which is gonna haunt her (obviously). For a long time, she’s gonna swear that she doesn’t want to have kids, which weirdly is going to make her end up having kids, and she’ll have three boys, one of whose names is Heinrich. Heinrich will serve in the military and be awarded this fancy red badge for how he saved one of his men, which will make him too confident; and one day, as a policeman, he’s going to kill somebody’s father by shooting him in the side of the head when he just meant to point a gun at him. I know that sounds like another bad thing, but it’s actually going to cause a lot of changes in police regulation and save over 10,000 lives.
Insane, sure, but it’s true. Everything I’ve said so far is. Big Michael always tells me the truth.
I’d like to save my sister, but then I think, those 10,000 people probably have special lives too, and people who care about them, so who would I be to let all them die? I know I’m talking about this like it’s casual, but I’m going to be sad, of course. It’s going to be very hard for me not to cry. Besides, many more women will drown this year, too.
Their names are Lauren Chilton, Veronica Butters, Hailey Joseph, Hannah Myers, Sarah Gibbons, Beth Ronstadt, Linda Green, and 42 more.
So why should my sister be so special?
Still, something can make you sad, even if there’s no logic in it. I’ve tried to stay in my room all day, but I did make sure to have a little bit of a goodbye with her. Earlier, when she was going through the pantry, I stopped her and said, “Hey, Lulu? I love you very much.”
She went to make an insult and watched me for a long time. “I love you too, Maya. Are you dying?”
“I think I’m getting sick.” I looked into the dark pantry and said, “You should have a chocolate.”
“But I’m getting fat.”
I walked over to my sister and placed my lips on top of her head. “You should have the biggest chocolate in the world.” I really don’t kiss people that often, but it felt right. She smelled how I always wished I would—for all Michael’s talk, he could never get my musk to go away. The kiss was maybe a little weird for Lulu, but for me, it was a goodbye. We’ve had a lot of good times together, to tell you the truth, even if she’s annoyed me a lot.
Don’t forget my mom’s number up there. If you call her, I’ll just assume it’s part of the plan. Don’t beat yourself up if you don’t—I know it’s almost 4 already.
I have to go. Lulu’s calling me outside because her friends are here. They’re going into the pool, they say. This temperature’s just right for an afternoon swim.
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