ELENA

Elena’s father had a habit of turning ordinary trips into stories.
Usually by accident.
That morning, father and daughter took a small boat to an island that seemed to appear out of the mist.
There wasn’t much there.
A quiet beach. A few trails. Trees bending towards the water.
Exactly the sort of place where her father would point somewhere in the distance and say,
“Let’s see what’s over there.”
Elena followed.
She usually did.
They walked, talked, argued about directions and completely forgot about the time.
By the time they returned to the jetty, it was empty.
Far across the water, the last boat was disappearing towards the mainland.
Elena stopped.
“Dad.”
He looked at the boat.
Then at the mainland.
Then at her.
She knew that look.
“No.”
“We swim.”
Elena laughed.
Her father didn’t.
“You’re serious?”
“We can do it.”
She looked across the water.
It had seemed considerably smaller from the boat.
“How far?”
“Not far.”
“That isn’t a distance.”
He stepped into the sea.
Elena stared at him for a moment.
Then followed.
She usually did.
For the first few minutes, it was beautiful.
The water was so clear Elena could see another world beneath them.
Silver fish flashed between the rocks. A school of tiny fish split around her hands and joined again behind her.
Her father swam beside her.
For a while, it felt less like crossing the sea and more like accidentally swimming into another world.
Then the rocks disappeared.
The water became darker.
Elena looked ahead.
The mainland seemed exactly as far away as before.
She looked back.
The island was already small.
She stopped looking.
A large shadow moved beneath them.
Elena stopped.
“Dad.”
The shadow rose slowly through the blue.
A sea turtle appeared between them.
Her father smiled.
“Dangerous place.”
Elena splashed him.
“Shut up.”
They continued.
Later, another shadow moved far below.
This one didn’t come up.
“Dad…”
“Keep swimming.”
“What was that?”
“I don’t know.”
That was considerably worse than turtle.
Elena kept swimming.
Then the current changed.
Every stroke became harder.
Her shoulders burned. Her breathing shortened.
Eventually her arms became heavy.
Then her legs.
She stopped.
“Dad.”
He was beside her immediately.
“I can’t.”
He looked at her, then swam several metres ahead.
“Come here.”
“What?”
“Don’t swim to the shore.”
He pointed at himself.
“Swim to me.”
She did.
When she reached him, he moved ahead again.
“Again.”
She followed.
Again.
Then again.
The mainland disappeared from the problem.
There were only the next few metres.
Her father’s back.
His voice.
Again.
After a while, her father started humming.
Elena recognized it immediately.
Their club’s old chant.
She looked at him.
“Seriously?”
He kept going.
She laughed, then joined him.
The club had been his long before it became hers.
He had given her the colours, the chants and the unreasonable belief that a match wasn’t over until the final whistle.
None of it was particularly supported by logic.
She had inherited it anyway.
One line from him.
One from her.
Stroke.
Breathe.
Stroke.
Breathe.
Somewhere in the middle of the sea, the song became their rhythm.
Then his voice stopped.
Elena looked over.
Her father had slowed.
He rolled one shoulder.
“Cramp?”
“A little.”
He tried to move ahead again.
This time Elena noticed how heavily he was breathing.
He was tired too.
Elena swam several metres ahead.
“Elena, wait.”
She turned.
“Don’t look at the shore.”
He looked at her.
She pointed at herself.
“Swim to me.”
For a second he said nothing.
Then her father laughed.
And swam.
Sometimes he led.
Sometimes she did.
When one slowed, the other waited.
A few metres.
Then a few more.
They stopped measuring what remained.
They just kept swimming.
More than an hour after they had entered the water, something touched Elena’s foot.
She jerked away.
Then felt it again.
Sand.
She lowered her foot carefully.
Ground.
“Dad.”
He put his feet down.
For a moment neither moved.
Then they stumbled through the shallow water and collapsed onto the beach.
Elena lay on her back, breathing hard.
Her father beside her.
Far across the water, the island looked impossibly small.
After a while, her father turned towards her.
“That was difficult, wasn’t it?”
Elena was quiet for a moment.
She looked at him.
“Yes,” she said. “It was.”