Page 23 of Sweet Little Lies
Chapter 8
Mica
My heart stops.
It stops and the only thing that starts it again and gets the blood pumping once more is the vision of Lance jumping to his feet and running toward the water.
His actions are swift and fast. Unbelievably fast.
Whereas my own reaction is slow. As if I am underwater or in a dream slogging through mud and bog to make my way to my nephew.
I pick AJ up in my arms, who flings his tiny fists and feet at me in petulant anger because he doesn’t want to leave the sand, but I don’t pay it any attention. I then grab hold of Amelia with unkind force, yank her to her feet and hoist her up to my other hip.
Making haste, I rush to the water’s edge, where there’s now several parents gathered, grabbing hold of their children, their empty hands placed at their foreheads to shield against the glaring sun that attempts to blind us all as we stare out into the water in alarm and dread.
My heart literally bottoms out.
Lance is already chest deep in water, dunking his head underneath the waterline every ten seconds or so, popping back up for breath and orientation before submerging back down again. He looks like a porpoise – up and down, up and down – but with an intensity bold and shark-like.
The baby wails in my arms and Amelia stands next to me in stunned confusion.
I’m muttering the Lord’s Prayer in my Spanish language – over and over again.
“Padre nuestro, que estás en los cielo…”
“Por favor no muertos. Please don’t die,” I whisper, my tears streaking my cheeks and filling my mouth with its saline warmth, even though everything feels cold and wet.
“Tiá, where is Alvi? What is your amigo, Lance, doing?”
I squeeze both children tight in my arms, watching and counting the seconds that Lance is underwater. Searching with my eyes around the rippled water to see if I can spot their life forms. Hoping and praying with all my might and strength that Alvi will pop up at any moment laughing and sputtering without a care in the world.
That he’ll reappear and alleviating the dread that is about to bring me to my knees.
And then I hear, “I see him! Over there!” someone from the crowd yells, as two other people rush into the water.
It’s almost unbearable to watch, my heart gripped in fragments of fear. Like a vice crushing my organ in its iron fists. It stops. Starts. Seizes again.
And then, moments go by and we finally see Lance – his tall form emerging from the water, silhouetted by the bright sun – standing to his full height, the limp body of my oldest nephew cradled in his arms – making his way toward us.
I collapse to my knees and take large, open mouth gasps, as I feel someone – a woman, I think – take the baby and Amelia from my arms. Leaving me weighted down with only my grief as I await the arrival of the lifeless body of Alvi.
Moments tick by. Enough time for me to agonize and wonder what I will tellmi madreandmi hermana. What will happen to our family if the outcome is the worst possible thing that I could ever imagine? How I could bare to ever look at them if this little previous boy dies?
Drops of water soak the sand in front of me as Lance drops to his shins and knees, carefully but with exact and hurried movements, laying Alvi down in front of him. Lance gives me a cursory glance, filled with fear and dread, and then goes to work.
This is exactly the type of emergency care I should be able to perform as a nursing student – but that I’m incapable of handling in this moment. Instead, I’m paralyzed with the fear that he’s already gone and will die out here in front of all these spectators. Die before he even reaches the age of six.
Lance leans over my nephew’s body, turning his head to check for breaths, checking his neck for a pulse and then begins the CPR aid with a calm and certainty that I’ve never seen in him before.
Short, briefpumps[SH3]against Alvi’s chest – one, two, three - before he pinches his nose and blows life-saving air into his lungs. He does this on repeat as I watch him go through these motions over and over and over again.
His composure is so brilliant. I realize I’m in shock and unable to do anything more than watch in horror. My body is a lifeless cold, just like my nephews, and I’ve begun to shake violently. Trembling with the fear of the possibility of losing my nephew.
Lance’s sharp voice cuts into my subconscious. “Mica, check for a pulse.”
I do as he says, reaching for Alvi’s limp wrist, finding the pulse point and begin counting. It’s faint but it’s there. He’s alive, but not out of the woods.
The desperate sound of relief that rips from my lungs is enough to encourage Lance to keep going until finally…finally…there is a sputter and a cough. Alvi’s chest rises and falls in manic movements as he gasps for air, coughing and spitting out all the salty lake water that had been sucked in and drowning him.
