Could she make this any easier?
As I settle our shoes and purses together, she prances into the water all by herself, laughing as the waves splash up around her knees, then her thighs.
I follow, still keeping a little distance, as if I really were watching out for her. I don’t turn to see if anyone has followed us, but just in case, I say loudly, ‘Don’t go any further! You’re too drunk, Serena!’
‘I feel fiiiiine,’ she says, tipping over a little bit. Then, a wave hits her just so, and she kind of sinks sideways.
Now.
I take two big steps forward.
‘Serena!’ I cry, still playing to an imaginary audience.
From a distance, it might look like she was falling and I was trying to catch her.
But my hands find what I think is her back, and I push down.
There’s no final moment of us making eye contact, or me seeing the fear in her face, or any of those silly cinematic moments.
Just her tipping and me bearing my weight into her back from above, and then grabbing her by the neck and the hair and holding her down.
The ocean thrashes around me, alive and hungry. Waves come up against my body; water splashes my face, stinging. Salty.
Her legs kick desperately, her feet graze my thighs, but since she’s underwater, everything is gentle, more like a caress. I feel her body convulse, like it’s trying to spasm its way towards air. My own lungs feel desperate, and I realize I’ve been holding my breath too. Living through what she’s living through, as if my body is trying to stay connected to the gravity of what I’m doing.
She manages to get her head up out of the water and gasp in one swallow of air, but her face isn’t to me, just the slick wet back of her head. I force her down again.
‘Hey!’ I hear behind me, in the distance.
Daniel. I’d know his voice anywhere.
Now adrenaline spikes, but I stay still, keeping my grip on Serena firm as her head bobs from side to side, still fighting, still trying to find air. I don’t turn to look at Daniel.
He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be nursing his wounds with a piña colada or three at the fucking Sunset. And yet, his presence here feels inevitable, like the finale to the dance we’ve been doing since that first morning by the coffee.
And while there’s dread, there’s also relief.
Finally.
No more hiding.
Let him see who I really am.
That’s where this has all been leading.
I’m here for truth and justice too, Daniel, I’ll tell him when I pull Serena’s lifeless corpse from the waves and he says ‘Why?’– which of course he will. Every good finale has a why, when everything is laid bare, and I suppose Daniel and I deserve no less.
The truth (I’ll say) is that Serena peddles harmful substances for profit, and almost killed a child this morning. The justice (I’ll tell him) is this: her death.
And then, Daniel’s body is rocketing into mine with all its solidity and strength. I lose my grip on Serena just as a monstrous wave sends me tumbling under. For a second, I’m submerged, sucking in water, with black above and black below, but then my feet find the sandy bottom, and I push off, coming up spluttering.
‘Itwasyou!’ Daniel shouts. ‘I can’t fucking believe it!’
He’s already a good distance away from me. He’s hooked his arms under Serena’s armpits and is dragging her to shore.
‘You’re too late,’ I shout, making for shore too, dress streaming water, hair like a wet snake down my back. ‘She’s already dead.’
Chapter Twenty-eight