Under the Surface (31 page)

Chapter Thirty-Six

Ren

It’s late when I finally reach the dim
parking lot of Emmy’s place. The light for her living room is on, so I’m
betting on the chance that she’
s still awake.

I run up the
stairs and knock on the door to her apartment.

I wait and
there is no answer. “Emmy,”
I yell into the door.

Nothing.

She might be
sleeping. I try the handle and find it unlocked. “Emmy,”
I say even though she’s sleeping right now. “How many times have I
told you to keep this locked?”

I flip off
the living room light. No point in keeping it on. The kitchen light is on as
well. I go to turn it off and spot an open bottle of vodka on the counter.
Maybe Emmy had Noel over. I top it with the cap and put the bottle away.

“
Em
,”
I call, but still no response. I’ll check
in on her, and I’ll sleep here so I don’t have to leave her alone with the door
unlocked.

I knock
before entering her room. She doesn’t answer. I quietly walk inside so I don’t
disturb her.

I go in to
find that Emmy isn’t here.

Why is her apartment
unlocked while she’s gone? I grab my phone to call her, when I do I see four
missed calls from her and a voicemail.

Fuck. I left
my phone on silent for most of the night. I didn’t want it going off during my
interview. I ring Emmy but she doesn’t answer, it goes straight to voicemail.

This doesn’t
feel right. She would’ve texted if she was going somewhere else all night. I
could stop by Noel’s, but I want to get in contact with Emmy first so I don’t
look like a crazy boyfriend showing up unannounced. But, God, I have a sick
feeling in the pit of my stomach right now and I can’t shake it. Not until I
know that Emmy is okay.

She left a
voicemail
. I play it on my phone.

“Ren. Ren, I
keep trying to get a hold of you, but you’re not answering your phone.”
She’s crying, and she sounds frantic. “I saw my dad. He came to
Providence. I didn’t tell you, but I read his letter. I’m sorry…I just I wanted
to hear him apologize. He found me. He was drunk again and he showed up at my
house. He was such a wreck…he…he hit me again and left my apartment. I was so
stupid. He didn’t change at all. Please call me back, I don’
t, I don
’t know what
to do right now.”
More sobbing, and the background noise is
full of cars passing by. She wasn’t in her apartment when she left this. The
sound of traffic fills the voicemail until she hangs up.

And her dad
was here? Why didn’t she tell me she read the letter? And he went to her
apartment, and he fucking hit her. I could kill him. No,
I will.

But where is
Emmy? I know she isn’t okay right now, and from the open vodka bottle on the
counter she’s been drinking.

I head to my
car, running to dodge the rain, and that’s when it comes to me. The motel. She
was probably walking there when she left the voicemail. If she would’ve called
Noel to go to her place I know she would’ve picked Emmy up.

As soon as I
get in my car, I take off in the direction of the motel. The entire time my
heart is racing. I hope she’s just sitting there, and that she didn’t get into
the water drunk.

It only takes
me three minutes to reach the pool. Three long fucking minutes.

I run out to
the gate, but I can’t see any of her things on the chairs. Through the pouring
rain I catch a faint blur of color in the water.

“Emmy!”
I shout as I bust open the gate.

I run to her.
She’s hunched over at the steps of the pool with her arms and part of her
clothing floating at the top of the water. I drag her body out of the water. I
continue to shout her name and yell help for help all at once.

“Emmy open
your eyes. Open your eyes.”
I shake her unconscious body.
Her lips have turned a deep shade of purple and her entire body is ice cold. I
try to shield her body with mine from the rain as I desperately plea for her to
open her eyes.

“Somebody!
Help!”

Your father
did this to you. For years he was out of your life and he returned only to ruin
it all over again.

“Emmy, baby,
breathe for me. Wake up.”
My tears blend with the rain, bathing
Emmy’s cold, limp body.

“Why did you
get in the water? I love you, Emmy, how could you do this?”
How could she do something so stupid?

I catch a man
running down the steps of the motel. “
Call 911,
”
I yell to him.

I don
’t know what to do. If I
should perform CPR or leave her lying still.

“Start
compressions,”
the man who dialed 911 tells me with a shake to his voice. “Do you
know CPR? An ambulance is on its way.”

I start
compressions, pressing into Emmy’s chest and then breathing into her mouth. I
repeat this three times and nothing happens. I shake her shoulders.
Wake up.
Wake up.
The man on the phone is just standing there watching me. I yell
for him to do something, but he doesn’t. I start compressions again, and on the
fourth try I notice Emmy’s body moving.

She coughs
roughly and a flood of water escapes her mouth. She doesn’t speak, just continues
to heave, grasping my leg as she turns to her side.

“Emmy,”
I say when I reach for her.

She says
nothing. Her eyes keeping blinking, staying closed longer each time. I pull her
body onto my legs, keeping her head elevated.

“I thought I
lost you,”
I whisper. I hold Emmy’s head in the palm of my hand. She’s
looking into my eyes. I feel her grip my hand. Shame and sadness cast over her
face. She should feel none of those things. She made a mistake, but she’s alive
when I thought only moments ago that she was gone.

“I’m sorry.”
her words are barely audible but I hear them. “I love you,”
she mouths.

“I love you
too, Emmy.”

She blinks
slowly again.

Only this
time she doesn’t open her eyes.

I hear the
sound of sirens cut through the air, but the pounding in my ears rings my
surroundings silent. Emmy doesn’t move. I scream for her to wake up, but she
doesn’t. The paramedics and police swarm into the area. They speak to me, but I
hear nothing. I argue, but my fight is lost when they tear Emmy from my arms. Someone
lifts me off the ground as I watch a paramedic lift Emmy’s body onto a gurney.
Nobody answers my questions, nobody tells me what I want to hear—that she’s
alright.

Instead an
officer next to me asks for my statement—one I can’t manage to give him. I
stand in the stupid fucking rain and watch the ambulance drive Emmy away until
it’
s gone.

Until
Emmy
is gone.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Ren

Two years later

I think the early morning is my favorite time
to be at the beach. Even though it’s freezing outside, and there are reports of
a chance of snow, I can’t help myself from being here.

It’s what she
would’ve wanted.

Remembering
the anniversary of her death is still difficult. It feels like it was yesterday
that we were on this beach together, laughing and enjoying ourselves.

I brought my
camera. I started a tradition two years ago where I would leave a picture in
the water. It would be my way of reaching out to her, of letting her know that
I’m still thinking of her every day.

I walk
around, kicking up small chunks of wet sand as I go, looking for the perfect
spot to take the picture.

I finally
decide on an area by the rocks. There’s a washed up log that I take a seat
on—it provides the perfect view of the water.

I have my
oldest Polaroid camera with me. I chose it because it prints the largest
pictures out of all the ones I own. I also love that the pictures print from
the bottom of the camera, whereas my newer Polaroid prints from the top.

I snap a few
shots. I still get excited every time one prints. It’s oddly one of my favorite
sounds, the gentle
whoosh
and slide of the picture being produced.

I take five
in total, and I wait patiently for the colors to fully develop.

“There you
are. You’re all tucked away behind the rocks here.”
Emmy leans in to give me a kiss. Her cheeks and nose are pink from
the cold but her smile doesn’t waver.

“Sorry I took
off. I was looking for the perfect spot.”

Emmy sits
patiently next to me as I flip through the pictures I took. I think back to
around two years ago when I thought I lost her too. She was carried away in
that ambulance, and I thought she was being taken from me forever. She woke
again after arriving at the hospital. The doctors said she would’ve drowned or died
of hypothermia if she was left in the water any longer. She told me everything
after she woke up, kept apologizing for how wrong it was for her to get in the
water drunk. I forgave her even though I didn’t need her to apologize. She even
told the police about her father. Emmy sought therapy after that. It was
something I suggested to her, and it was a decision that she said changed her
life.

“Do you miss
living here, Ren?”

“I’ll always miss
my parent’s house because of the memories, but I’m happy with our place in
Brooklyn—I sometimes can’t even believe we live there.” My photography has
taken off, and I find myself with a regular gallery space in our new city.
Emmy’s working too. She’s a social worker now, and also assists me with my
openings of shows. “My dad will always keep this house. He loves it too much
not to—
and I don
’t think Ellie will let him sell it. So as long as we can come
back here every so often, I’m happy.”

Emmy takes my
hand. “Will you show me the picture you picked?”

I nod and
show her my favorite one. A large wave takes over the majority of the photo,
and the early sun peeks out from the top. It’s simple. It’s beautiful. My mom
will love it.

I pull a pen
from my pocket and sign the back. I pass it to Emmy and she writes, “Love, Emmy
Waters.”
She also creates a wave border on the back to frame our names.

“Done.
Ready?”
She asks.

“I need to
add one more thing.”
I scribble a few more words on the
picture. We walk to the edge of the water and I toss the photo in. The waves
pull it away and works as a carrier for my gift, delivering it to my mother.

“There was
something my mom always told me. It was a phrase she got from someone she took
a picture of. It was taken right here on this beach too. The woman in the photo
was even wearing a dark red raincoat like you are now.” Emmy smiles. “It didn’t
click how much it means to me until this moment.”

“What was
it?”

“She would
say, ‘where there is water, there is paradise.’
All anyone
needed to do was to find their water, and that would be their paradise.”

A tender
smile reaches her lips. “That’s so beautiful. Is that what you added to the
picture?”

I shake my
head and look at my beautiful Emmy. My beautiful Emmy
Waters
.

“No. I told
her I found it.”

The End

Acknowledgments

First off,
thank you to all my friends and family who are supportive of my writing. I
could not have done this without you. A special thank you to everyone who beta
read and helped me make Under the Surface the best book it could be. Thank you
to my parents and all my brothers and sisters: Brittany, Josh, Sophia, and
Gracie. Also shout-out to Rosie. A huge thank you to author Scott William
Carter whose “Writing for Publication” course changed my life. Thank you to
Monica
Duddington
,
Jaymie
Kahl
, Jordan
Croll
, Angeline
Glaspey
,
KoLynn
Phillips, Janessa
Rook,
MaryLynn
Ahrensbach,
Mora
Camplair
, and Will
Pietrok
.
And last but not least, THANK YOU to all my readers. You truly are the best.

About the Author

Katrina Penaflor is a twenty-one-year-old
writer and college student. She loves creating stories with realistic and
emotionally gripping characters that her readers can relate to. When not
writing, Katrina enjoys reading, drinking large glasses of iced coffee, and
watching movies starring Daniel Craig.
Under the Surface
is her first
novel.

Please visit www.katrinapenaflor.com