w a t e r s o n g

pool

Miranda had just settled down with a glass of wine when she heard the splash in the backyard. She didn't think anything of it. Raph often circled the pool at night after supper to pick up any stray pool noodles or rings and toss them back in before covering the pool for the evening.

She, on the other hand, was getting ready to dip into some Pinot Grigio and chat with her friend, Eliza. Her Monday had been shittier than most. There had been a waiting list filling the whole first page on the clipboard hanging on her door when she got in, high school kids who'd had a rough weekend and needed to talk to someone other than a parent or a fair weather friend. This baggage was stuff she couldn't leave at work, either. When she went home at night, she couldn't stop thinking about whether Shelby McNichols would get dinner for once or whether Simon Reynolds would be sporting fresh bruises. The only way she could turn it all off was with a glass of wine after dinner and a long talk with her best friend, a social worker who lived halfway across the country.

Eliza was online. Miranda typed in a message of greeting but dropped her computer when she heard Raph screaming her name outside.

"Mir! Mir! Call 911!"

She spilled her wine on her laptop as she scrambled for her cell. What had happened? Something with the pool? Surely it couldn't have been one of the five-year-old twins from next door. Ricky tried to climb the fence last week, but the security lights let Miranda and Raph know. She was sure that would be the end of the situation, but what if he'd successfully climbed the fence and managed to drop into the pretty, sparkling water when no one was looking?

She grabbed her phone, muttering "shit shit shit" all the way down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Keeping Up with the Kardashians was loudly on television in the living room, and Serena was painting her fingernails bright blue. The dishes from dinner were still in the kitchen sink, and the door leading out to the patio was open. She had hit "9" and "1" and was holding on the last digit until she could assess the situation.

The phone slipped out of her hand and dropped into the pool as she took in the scene: her husband of fifteen years cradling their sixteen-year-old daughter in his arms. She looked blue, or maybe it was just dark. Miranda's chest seized as she joined her husband and gazed at her daughter's beautiful face. She searched for a pulse. Nothing. She bent over her daughter's mouth and gave her two breaths. No change. Raph left her to continue CPR while he raced inside to get the landline to call 911.

Regina's hair spread over Miranda's lap like black seaweed on the beach. Her eyes were open, and that's what scared Miranda the most. When Regina had been born, there were a few moments when the doctors couldn't get her to breathe. Her eyes were completely scrunched shut. But when Miranda saw them open, those beautiful baby blues, she knew Regina was going to be okay.

Now, it was the opposite feeling.

Her daughter's eyes were open, but she was gone.