Feels Like Falling - Kristy Woodson Harvey Page 0,3
had stood at the other end of the aisle when I was in a white dress—was out.
Trapped on that boat with Greg, I panicked. I had just found out my mother was sick a few days earlier, and now this? All I wanted to do was flee. Before I could gather my thoughts to respond, before Greg could try to stop me, I climbed onto the side of the boat and dove off into the clearest aqua water. I held my breath, ears roaring from the pressure of my descent. I could feel my hair, which I’d had tinted that perfect island blond for this trip, for this husband, streaming out in a sleek V behind me.
Now, feeling the same primal urge to escape the clutches of Brooke, I raised my arms above my head, bent my knees ever so slightly, and dove gracefully into the deep end. No splash, no fanfare, just a simple, swift motion that united me with the water. I had known that day in the islands that that dive, like it or not, was the beginning of something for me, the start of a new life. Now, as the water covered my streamlined body, it washed away all the things those people on the terrace and the pool deck were saying about me, all those judgments, all the hurt and fear that losing my mother and my husband and, for all intents and purposes, my sister in such short order had caused.
Safe from the noisy world above the surface, I told myself things would get better. I was strong, I was smart, I was proud, and I was worthy of being loved, even if I had forgotten those things during the past few months. My dive, that tiny snapshot of fearlessness, of freedom, did more than set me a pool’s length apart from Brooke; it offered a moment of meditation that would propel me forward into a summer of change. There is nothing like the deep, immersive water to cleanse us of even our darkest demons, to wash us whole and set us free, until we can emerge, as I did that day, gasping, reborn into the light.
diana: royalty
My brothers and sister and me, we’re all named after royalty. Diana, Charles, Elizabeth, and Phillip. But my momma was wrong when she said naming people after royalty would make them grow up to be like royalty. My boyfriend was a case in point.
“Harry, I don’t give a damn where you were all night,” I said. “All I care about is that you get out of my sight.” I threw one more wrinkled shirt into my duffel and put my hand up to my throbbing jaw.
Harry was behind me, his breath stale from the night before, pleading, “But, babe, I’m gonna win it all back. Don’t you know your man well enough to know that he’s an ace at poker?”
I turned around, so pissed I could hardly speak. “Are you freaking kidding me? An ace? You blew all my money on that poker tournament. You got any damn idea how long it takes to save a thousand bucks? You got any damn idea how I’m going to fix this toothache, now that you spent all my money?”
“Babe, you gotta understand. I can win all that money back like that.” He snapped his fingers. “All I need is another hundred to put in down at the bar tonight. I’m feeling lucky.”
I hoisted an overstuffed bag over each shoulder and marched to the car. “You’re nothing but a drunk and a gambler, Harry, and you can bet your sorry ass I won’t be back this time. Good luck finding your hundred dollars.”
He was lumbering behind, trying to keep up, trying to get between me and the door of the creaky old Impala that I could’ve traded in if he didn’t keep spending all my money. I shoved him away from the door, slammed it shut, and lit a cigarette.
I shivered at the stained pits of his old T-shirt and the beer belly rolling over the band of his cargo shorts as he leaned against the car, fogging up my window. His hairline had receded since I met him, revealing an oddly red scalp. Harry wasn’t ever magazine handsome, but in his day he’d been all right. Some days, when I could get him into a collared shirt, he was even something to look at. Let’s just say, Harry hadn’t aged gracefully.