I regretted losing that first bag. Birds might get caught in it, or it could blow out to the lake and fish would suffocate because of it. Tears of frustration came to my eyes, tears of guilt. I ran uphill, but there was water around my ankles and then the water was up to the middle of my calves. The small bags, every single one of them, and the water star grass blew out of my hands though I held on tightly. In their place was heavy mud. I dipped my hands in the lake water that was now to my knees and wiped my hands on my pants because I knew when the water rose, I couldn’t let them weigh me down. I’d have to use my hands like paddles and swim.
But why was I in the lake? I was supposed to be on the road back to my house. Mud was sucking my feet down. I kept lifting and taking steps but I was sinking, and then I felt a branch whisk by my cheek, and I knew that meant I was near a tree. It was raining really hard now, and I couldn’t lift my chin. I crouched and covered my head with my arms. Rain cut my skin. I cowered in place, kept myself as small as possible.
And that’s when I heard a voice say,Run home.
I rose and pushed myself forward. And then the ground disappeared beneath my feet. It felt like I stepped into the middle of the earth becauseI fell so far, because when I reached out to slow my fall, I felt dirt and dry branches. I clawed at them to stop my fall. My hands scraped rocks and mud and twigs for what felt like hours, just reaching to grip anything that would slow my rapid descent. My palms ached. They prickled, they burned, and then something smashed into the side of my head and I lost consciousness.
What I remembered next was hearing my grandfather’s voice from way up high. As if he was in the sky. Was he a bird? I blinked and looked up to feel rain fall on my face, and I had to cover my eyes and look up once more. There it was again: Harabeoji’s voice.
“Dahee! Answer if you hear us.”
So I did. I shouted with my mouth getting hit with rain, with my forehead and eyes drenched. I shouted back, “Here, here, here I am!”
Now out on the beach in that same kind of rain, I knew Harabeoji would know how to find Edison. With shaking fingers, I struggled to hit Harabeoji’s number on my phone. When I heard his voice, I began to shout for help until I realized it was his voicemail. I hung up.
I took my phone and flashed it around me. Lighthouse, I’d be the lighthouse for Edison.
I was about to stand up and try to make my way down the shore when an arm came around my shoulders and a hand shielded rain from my face. It was Minjae.
He said, “Stay behind me, I’ll block some of the wind.” He was right. We searched each side. How much distance did we cover? I couldn’t tell, but we walked for several interminable minutes before he stopped and took something out of his pocket and then turned and pointed into the distance where the car was parked.
“Channing says to check the concession stand! She sounds really sure; we should go there,” he shouted into the wind.
“You go,” I shouted back. “I’ll keep looking here.”
He pointed again toward the low row of buildings. “Channing said he’s there,” he insisted.
“No, you go ahead!” I said, and ran back toward the water. Arguing with Minjae was a waste of precious time.
A thought crossed my mind as I ran: If Edison dies, then that’s the end of me, too. I could not live. I could not be the cause of a child’s death. I could see the Ahns’ faces, the ones in the photographs in the house. The parents would be destroyed. I would be the one who destroyed them. Austin with his seaweed jewelry would blame me, he’d blame himself, he’d blame the world. He’d grow up with this loss stamped on his memory forever.
I wandered the shore. I had to keep Edison from falling into a hole. When I’d been found by my grandfather, the hole had been filling with rainwater. I could have drowned. The sand could be collapsing around Edison at this very minute.
Where are you, Edison?I felt that same fury and fear from my own past. I crouched again to rest for a second. I covered my body as much as I could, made myself small to ward off the pain of the relentless sharp rain, piercing my skin. What made me think I could save anyone, let alone a child? Every inch of me hurt. I couldn’t rise to a standing position.
In the distance I heard my name. It became louder and louder, repeatedly, as it neared.
It didn’t sound like Edison, so I didn’t want to know who it was.
“Dahee, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Channing said with rain dripping down her face. She had the red blanket, and she held it up like a large umbrella over our heads, and instantly the rain ceased to feel like blades. The wind continued to batter us, but at least we had a shield.
She was smiling at me, and I thought she was being ridiculous, but wecould use this blanket now to search. “If you’re here, who’s with Austin?” I shouted.
She was nodding. “Listen, Dahee, we found Edison.” She said she had a feeling she knew where he’d be. It had flashed in her mind, and she’d phoned Minjae and me but only Minjae had answered. He had searched and found Edison crouched against a row of wooden buildings. He’d taken him to the car and Channing had come out to tell me.
I didn’t believe her until I saw the child with my own eyes. The rain had eased now to a gentle patter. Just like that, one second a whipping torrent and now a drizzle. He was standing by the SUV with Austin hugging him tight. Edison looked embarrassed, with his sloppy wet hair. “I was looking for the bathroom when it started to rain,” he said.
Channing told him, “It’s okay, you did the right thing to stay there.”
Austin must have squeezed harder at that moment because Edison pushed him off and glared at him, which the younger child took in stride. I gave them both a hug. We were all sopping wet.
It didn’t surprise me that three police cars were parked askew in the lot around us, but I thought an ambulance would have been with them as well. We were lucky that Edison was unharmed. I’d broken my wrist that day I’d been lost at the lake.
I assumed Minjae or Channing had called for help. On a beach like this during a storm, that made logical sense. What didn’t add up was how the officers insisted that Channing get into the back seat of the patrol car. She had just enough time to tell me that the key fob for the SUV was in the door pocket. “Get them home,” she said.
It was absurd. All of this. It might have been the cold and shock. I laughed at her and said, “You’re always telling me about that stupid key fob.”
She looked confused. “Sorry, Dahee,” she said.
