Living Voice. Karen West

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      The water lapped at the tips of our flippers, and our wetsuits glistened in the morning sun. I spat in my mask, squished it around the glass with my fingers, and rinsed it out with sea water. The thick rubber strap pulled at my hair as I wiggled the lens, sucking it to my face. It was alien against my skin.

      Mum pulled her long auburn hair back into a ponytail and tied it in a knot. People say from behind they can’t tell Mum and me apart.

      We made our way out into the crystal-clear water off Snappermans Beach. The roar of a seaplane flying low filled my head with a buzz of excitement that made my heart flutter. I shaded my eyes from the sun and waved to the passenger, and he waved back. I loved the energy that surrounded us.

      I slipped the mouthpiece of the snorkel between my teeth and tasted bitter salt. Mum signalled before submerging. I followed. Although the water was clear, there was an undercurrent. The force of the tide pulled at me, inching me away from her as she entered a bed of seagrass and disappeared. I hovered facedown, waiting for her to come back, but a stingray stole my attention as it glided like a spaceship across the sand, before disappearing into deeper water. A school of silver whitebait separated, fleeing for somewhere to hide. The silence of the clear water made me think that this might be heaven. I stopped and allowed my body to move with the tide, floating through the water like a cloud being carried by the wind. The water gave me an inner strength, unlike anything that I experienced on land.

      Mum appeared beside me. She reached out, tapped the glass on my mask and pointed to a small patch of seagrass. I stared back at her blankly. She pointed again, and I followed the tip of her finger to a transparent seahorse, his tail hooked around a single blade of grass, his pouch bulging with eggs. I had only seen a seahorse in Mum’s laboratory or dead on the beach, spat out by the sea. I nodded.

      Mum signalled that she was heading back to the surface, and I followed.

      When I surfaced, Mum was treading water, clutching her snorkel and mask high above her head with one hand, struggling to stay afloat. Her lips were blue.

      ‘Did you see his eggs?’ gasped Mum. I’d never seen her so puffed out.

      ‘Yeah, I did,’ I called, studying her lips. ‘Do you want to go back to shore?’

      As Mum went to answer, a motorboat skipped across the water, drowning out her reply, and we bobbed up and down in the water like a couple of corks.

      ‘Are – you – hungry?’ she called between gasps. She stopped talking to catch her breath, and went under.

      Panic set in. ‘Mum,’ I screamed. She surfaced, spat out a mouthful of water and started coughing.

      ‘Shit,’ I squealed when she went to go under again. This was no asthma attack – something was wrong. I stayed with her until she was out of the water and safe on land.

      I pulled off my mask and snorkel, throwing them on the sand. ‘Here,’ I said, helping Mum out of her wetsuit and freeing her chest and arms. ‘Rest,’ I told her as I peeled off mine and started scooping up the gear, stuffing it into the bag. I zipped it up, threw it over my shoulder and turned to find her shivering, but the day was hot.

      I looked for Dad. He was sitting with Aunt Cass at the table under the frangipani tree.

      ‘Dad, Dad!’ I screamed, signalling with arms stretched high, hands flapping like flags.

      He waved back, and I panicked.

      ‘Dad!’ I bellowed, and started sprinting towards him. ‘Dad, HELP!’

      Finally, I had his attention. He jumped to his feet, took off across the lawn. He leapt off the wall and ran towards us. I’d never seen him move so fast.

      ‘Dad’s coming,’ I told Mum, but she just stood motionless, like a piece of driftwood in the sand. She started to sway. I helped her sit before she passed out.

      Dad dropped in the sand beside Mum. ‘What happened?’ he asked me.

      I started crying. ‘I’m not sure, one minute Mum was all right, and the next minute she wasn’t.’

      Aunt Cass gripped my arm, moving me away to give Dad room.

      ‘Kim, are you in pain?’ he asked.

      Mum reached for her chest. ‘I’m tight.’ Dad dropped beside her, put his ear to her chest and listened to her heart. As he took her wrist, to check her pulse, I tried to read his face and a sobbing sound escaped from my mouth. Wrinkles formed in the corners of Mum’s eyes. ‘I’m – okay – Stephanie.’ She took hold of my hot, sweaty hand. Her hand was freezing.

      ‘You’re cold,’ I told her.

      Dad scooped Mum up in his arms. ‘Cass, call an ambulance. Tell them, it’s a suspected heart attack.’

      Heart attack? Old people die from heart attacks.

      The walk back to the house was slow. Aunt Cass held the back door open. ‘The ambulance is on its way,’ she said.

      ‘Steph, you wait out the front for the ambulance,’ ordered Dad.

      ‘Do you want me to find Mum’s puffer?’

      ‘I said to wait for the ambulance, Steph, СКАЧАТЬ