He walked down the boardwalk, the breeze humming into his ears, the ocean beneath him calm, and tranquil, the odd wave crashing against the side of the bank.
It was a peaceful Sunday evening. Fishermen stood against the edge of the railing, their fishing poles stretching down into the water. A little boy ran up and down the boardwalk, his father chasing him joyously. Everything was enjoyable. The atmosphere, the people. It was unlike a Friday or Saturday when the boardwalk and the beach below would be jam packed with tourists and locals. Now was the perfect time and day to enjoy the ocean, to enjoy the peace and quiet, the aroma of the sea.
He continued along, noticing the view, the vastness of the ocean surrounding him. He breathed in, noticing the faint husk of saltwater, the squawks of seagulls as they circled the beach searching for food. It was all the sights and sounds and smells you would see from an ocean waterfront but at a downtime of the day.
He stopped momentarily to look down at the water, seeing fish splashing by the docks below, barnacles and a few starfish clinging to the railings. He turned back watching the father grab his son in a bearhug before swinging him up over his shoulders. The boy squealed in joy.
He returned his gaze to the water, remembering everything. Everything that he had once loved about the water. It was now gone. He stopped to think, gathering himself onto a bench.
The year was 1997. There were the three of them; his wife and two young daughters. They had rented a cottage house out by a lake fifteen miles south of the Great Lakes. It was the middle of July. Perfect weather for sunbathing or swimming in the water.
It was a Tuesday, he remembered it clearly as the next day on the Wednesday was his eldest daughter’s 10th birthday. That day they had gone for a swim. A swim in the calm lake. It was the perfect day for it. The sun was shining, the temperature blasting up into the thirties. He and his family all decided to go for a swim. It really was the perfect day.
They quickly changed into their bathing suits and jumped in from the small five-foot cliff at the end of the beach. They swam around, dunking their heads and disappearing underneath for seconds at a time before resurfacing. His wife splashed him and then laughed, and he splashed back, thus starting a water fight. They all laughed and splashed until they were all soaking wet and giggling.
After, he decided to go for a swim to the small nearby island a few hundred metres ahead about halfway down the lake. None of his family wanted to join him so he swam alone. He didn’t mind. He loved swimming lengths and this was only a few lengths at the local pool.
He began his swam, one arm after the other, breath after breath until finally he reached the edge of the island and then turned around and headed back the same way.
As he began his swim he noticed he could no longer see his family. He was a distance away so it would probably be some time before he could see them. But as he neared, he still could not see them. Slowly and slowly he got closer and closer to the lake edge and still no signs of his family.
He finally reached the end and they weren’t there. He assumed they had grown tired and had returned to the cottage. After drying himself off with the towel, he grabbed his clothes and headed back to the cottage. He opened the door and walked in, expecting to see drips of water or one of his daughters jumping out to surprise him. But it was eerily quiet. The house didn’t make a sound. It was as if he were completely alone.
As he checked room to room for his wife or daughters, he felt the panic rising room after room. He felt a swell in his throat, his stomach creeping in with butterflies. After checking the entirety of the house and failing to find them, he quickly headed back out to the lake thinking maybe he had missed them. Thinking back now, he knew that at this point he realized something was terribly wrong.
He ran out towards the lake. It was quiet. That was when he noticed the three towels and sandals on the beach. He knew something had gone terribly wrong. He ran into the water, splashing his way forward. He went under several times hoping to see any of one of them, or at worst one of their bodies. But there was nothing. It was as if they had disappeared.
After searching for several minutes, and exhausting every muscle in his body, he decided to give up. They were gone.
The police arrived later, talking to him, asking him questions, getting his statement. But nothing ever came of it. His family was never found.
He returned back to reality; the image of the lake being replaced by the sea. It was calm, as calm as the lake had been that day. But below he knew it was anything but. The water had taken his family.
He had thought of that day over and over and over. It consumed his mind, even twenty years later. Not a day went by that he didn’t think about that day. It even appeared in his dreams.
He failed to have any purpose in his life now. It was as if a part of him had been taken away. He thought, he thought, he thought. The thoughts were never ending. Consuming him, controlling him.
The ocean looked so peaceful, he thought, with the seagulls, the families, the happy faces. But the water was conceiving. It was not peaceful. He thought again about the day and knew. He would re-live it again tomorrow.
