“I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“You didn’t.”
There’s a small pause on the line.
“I’ve been reading,” she says.
That sentence immediately sets off alarms in my brain.
“Reading?”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
“About underwater hockey.”
I close my eyes.
Oh no. It seems my lie isn’t going to be allowed to die quietly. Or drown.
My mother has never encountered a topic she couldn’t research thoroughly within twenty-four hours if one of her children happened to mention it.
“And?” I ask cautiously.
“Well,” she says slowly, “apparently people pass out quite often.”
“Pass out.”
“Yes. From holding their breath too long.”
“That sounds… dramatic.”
“And there are injuries,” she continues. “Broken fingers. Someone lost a tooth in a tournament in Australia.”
I rub my forehead.
“Mom-”
“And there was an article about a man who-”
“Mom.”
She stops.
“It’s not quite that extreme. It’s hardly worse than ice hockey.”
“Well, the internet seems to think it is. It’s underwater, Leonora!”
“That’s because the internet thinks everything is dangerous.”
She sighs softly. “I just worry.”
“I know.”
“You’ve always thrown yourself into things. When you were little, you used to climb the tallest trees in the neighborhood just to prove you could.”
“That sounds like a positive personality trait.”
