“Put one of those on!” Ollie shouts almost angrily when he spots me. He is shoving the round life preserver toward the boy.
I awkwardly link one of the life preservers around me and clip it on, pretty sure I’m getting it under my arm somehow.
“Give me the other!” he calls.
I give a big push through the water to toss the other one to Ollie, getting a wave full of saltwater down my throat as I do. I start choking a bit, pushing briny water from my eyes as I try to understand what’s going on.
I expect Ollie to put the other life jacket on, but instead he pushes it to the coughing boy. “I need you to put this on, okay?” he calls loudly.
The boy shakes his head. “My phone,” he groans. “It fell.”
“It’s dead,” I shout, wondering if he disappeared underwater in pursuit of his phone, not because of imminent drowning. If so, it’s possible I will kill him before the boat has a chance to turn around.
“I need you to put this on!” Ollie says to the boy again, more firmly.
The boy just keeps shaking his head. “My phone…”
“Now.”
The boy groans and awkwardly holds on to the second life preserver, still coughing. He slings it under one arm as Ollie treads water.
“Good news,” Ollie calls to me. “I think they’re coming back for us.”
A rush of relief brings tears that blend with the water. Ollie gives the boy a glance and, deciding that he’s not going under again, swims the few feet toward me.
“You are amazing, Laura,” Ollie says as I cough near him, the salt stinging my eyes. “You didn’t hesitate. You went right in.”
“Because I’m impulsive,” I say.
“No, you’re brave.”
My head begins to clear, the salt water mostly out of my eyes, and that is when I let out a long, highly visual set of swearwords that leaves both Ollie and the coughing boy staring at me.
“You okay?” Ollie asks.
“Hannah,” I say. “I was barely going to get to her in time, and now I won’t, and if I’m late they’ll kick her out of her aftercare, and I don’t have any back-up.”
“It’s going to be okay,” Ollie says. The wrong thing to say right then.
“No, it’s not going to be okay. Because there is no one else to get her, do you understand? My ex-husband is eight hours away and my sister is in Newfoundland, and I have nobody. And my phone was in my pocket, so I can’t even fucking call anybody!”
“Hey,” he says. “Hey. Come here.”
I don’t move, so he swims closer to me.
“Come here. Listen.”
“Don’t tell me it’s going to be okay!” I yell at him. “Don’t tell me it’s going to be okay. You don’t understand my life!”
“You’re not alone,” he says.
But that is exactly what I always am. Have always been. Ever since I was a child. It’s why I don’t depend on anyone.
Except that Ollie jumped into the water after me.
“Hey,” he says gently, “rescuing someone from the Long Island Sound probably falls into the category of a forgivable sin with your childcare, okay?”
“You rescued him,” I say petulantly. “I just ruined my shoes.”
