The
waves of the ocean lapped the edge of the sand like
kittens devouring fresh milk. Along the shore
of New Smyrna Beach, Florida, the sun blazes
hot white light down upon the scattered multitude of
humans,
lying along the beach like fleas on a stray
dog, soaking in its rays.
A
long white bus with bright blue writing pulls in. The
bright blue writing forms into words
as it gets
closer, "Rosewood Baptist Church."
Children poured off the bus, their mahogany skin shining
in the sun.
"Look at that ocean!" said a tall, ebony man, a
wooden cross around his neck. He stepped off the bus
with his bible in hand, a white towel thrown over his
left shoulder, walking confidently, assuredly, towards
the sand, while his flock streamed off the bus.
"It is awesome!" shouted one of the boys, "Can
we go swimming now, Pastor?"
"Go,
have fun, be careful, and watch for sharks." The
Pastor called after as the boys and girls of
underprivileged families ran to see the
sea, some of them for the very
first time. The water darkened with their presence.
A
family of four was parked next to them.
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"Look at that shit!" said Andy, the father, pointing
towards the unloading bus.
"Andy, not in front of the girls" Magnolia, the
mother said.
"Daddy, who are they?" asked the seven-year-old
red haired girl—red and yellow bathing
suit—standing
next to a half finished castle with a red
pail filled with shells, spilling out as
the pail laid on its side
while her blonde four-year-old sister in
pink with yellow ruffles around the waist
of her suit, an orange
inner tube securely holding the ruffles
down, trying desperately to dig a hole
in the sand that would stop
filling with water.
"Them
are niggers," Andy said. "They'll
make the water all greasy, like oil spots
in the rain!" He
was smiling when he said it.
Disgusted
with her husband, Magnolia yelled "Andy!
I told you not in front of the girls!"
"Amber,
Candace, your father didn't mean that!"
Magnolia walked away, toward the red lifeguard stand,
seemingly wishing she had picked a better man.
"Andy,
look after the girls," she said, "I'm
going for a walk"
The
ocean lay before her girls, a vast sea filled with green
and blue waves, occasionally
a bit of
black water
glimmering through with the sea's white foam being
bounced around back and forth, left to right by
the waves that pounded in, faster and faster towards
the shore. Magnolia caught a glimpse of a bright
orange
van as it rolled by, watching the birds, sky rats
really, as they searched haphazardly for food of
any kind.
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A
tall, slender, blonde haired woman was walking along the
edge of the shore, passing by the
girls as they
played in the sand. Her golden brown skin
glistened in the sun. She caught Andy's eye. Her peach
string bikini left nothing to the imagination.
He
fell in step behind her.
"Amber, look after your little sister," he called.
"Okay Daddy," Amber replied. She looked to where her father was walking, watching
him for a moment as his footprints were being washed
away by the waves. She turned back, staring at her
castle, wondering if she should add another tower.
"Candace,
how about another tower?" she said. A
few moments went by with no answer. She turned behind
her and looked—Candace
was gone. Amber ran to the car—an old beat up
silver blue station wagon—to see if Candace had gone
to get
another shovel to
dig with—empty. Her red-sunburned shoulders
tensed as she scanned the ever-darkening water
for some sign
of her sister.
"Candace!" She
yelled out, "Candace!"
She
saw a faint orange spot just passed one of the greenish-black
cresting waves.
Candace was too
far out. She knew she wasn't supposed to be that
far out, Amber thought.
Amber
started running toward the edge of the water, her father,
a fading image further
down the
shore still following the blonde woman.
"Daddy!" she screamed out as loud as her lungs
would allow. He didn't hear her, and she didn't wait to see if
he had.
Amber dove into the cold, coarse water—swimming
as far and as fast as her arms would carry her. She
had to save her sister!
The
waves crashed down over her, filling
her mouth with salt and water, her
eyes
blinking frantically,
the blur of the orange float dancing over the murky
water further away than before. The ocean grew deeper
and darker with each wave Amber passed. She knew
she was too far out to be able to stand
with her head above
water.
"Amber!" Candace
cried out, squirming in the float,
flailing her arms in a swimming motion
as tears streamed
down her solemn cheeks. The waves spun her in every
direction, threatening to take Candace to where
the waves began their journey.
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The
lifeguard—sitting on a hard wood stand,
splinters occasionally catching his burning red
shorts, as
his feet touched the blood colored step below
him—just
down the shore from where Amber dove in; he was
occupied, watching the same woman Andy had followed.
Andy
got bored and turned back, walking
to where the girls were playing in
the sand. He didn't
see them
there, and as he got closer to the half finished
castle, he wondered where they had gone off
to. Andy bent down
and reached inside the bright red cooler, picking
out a beer. He cracked it open just as one
of those mahogany
boys ran to him.
"Mister! Mister!" he spit out, trying to catch
is breath, pointing towards Amber, and Candace, "There
are two girls out in the water; they are too
far out!"
"You
gotta help them mister!"
Andy
looked out where the boy was pointing,
seeing
the orange of
the float around Candace, realizing
those were his children about to drown, about sway to the
call of the sea, captured in the water,
their
souls to be preserved within its depths.
"Boy!
Go get the life guard," Andy yelled "now!"
The
boy ran into the Pastor first and
told him what had happened.
Andy ran, and jumped
into
the ocean
as hard as he could with the Pastor only
a few steps behind
him.
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"Candace!" Amber
called. Her hand had slipped a second
time from the edge of the
float, unintentionally pushing Candace further away; the float that was keeping
Candace from drowning was damning
her to be lost at
sea.
"Grab my hand Candace, reach for it," Amber said.
"I
can't!" Candace called back "Amber…I
can't"
Fear
overwhelmed both of the girls as they
fought
to reach
each other,
to clasp
their
hands together,
to
be home and safe rather than
tossed about by the waves
cresting and
crashing all
around them. Amber's
face
changed, scrunching into
a new determination—the
determination to save her sister
from being condemned to a murky
grave in the green and black
muck below.
"Reach
Candace!" she said as she held
her hand out to her little sister,
a small fragile creature trapped by the same—once blue, now black—water
that burned in her lungs.
She reached further, pushing against the currents of the ocean waves with all
her
might, and finally, their
hands met. Amber held tight, fearing that if she let go, she would never see
her
sister again.
The
orange float!
It
slipped from around Candace's waist,
pulled
out from under
her by a large,
looming, raven
wave that
crashed into them,
tearing the float from them.
The orange float
danced
with the
currents that
carried
it out to the vast
waters of the sea.
Candace
was sinking under with each new
wave, with
only Amber's
hand
to keep
her above
water. Amber
pulled her up, knowing
the water was too
deep for her
to stand
with her head above
water. They were
both doomed
to be lost if
someone
did not act
quickly.
The
currents pulled at Amber's legs,
her tired
body, begging
her to give
in and
let go. Amber
shook her
head, the will
to live, once again
scrunching
into her
face, scorching
her tiredness
into strength.
The girls' hands were
still clasped
together;
Candace
was
gasping for breath.
The next wave would
be their
last
if Amber did
not act
quickly enough,
hastily
enough
to save Candace.
The
somber choice
swarmed over Amber.
She knew
what she had
to do. She
could stand
on the
bottom, and
her arms would
still be above
water, high
enough
to keep
Candace from
breathing in the ocean. Amber
circled her hands
around
Candace's waist,
hoisting her
little sister
above her head
as Amber's feet
felt for the
bottom.
Someone
will come she thought—she hoped—before
she was drowned.
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The
men, Andy and the Pastor, swam out to where the girls
were, still too far away to lend
any help. They
watched as Amber sank under water, holding her little
sister above her head, the pink and yellow bathing
suit, their only guide to where Amber was standing,
under the sea.
It
seemed an eternity to Amber as she
stood there, arms outstretched
above her head as high as she could
get them with all her strength pushing into her
upper body.
The
outgoing tide ripped around her
face, water was rushing up her
nose as she held her last breath.
The last breath she thought she might ever take.
The last
time Amber's lungs would fill with air instead
of
water. The waves splashed over her arms. Amber
hoped that
she held Candace high enough. She hoped that she
was strong enough to last. Amber hoped that she
would go
quickly with no pain, no fear, and no sharks.
She
had to grip harder and push further
up or Candace would drown. Amber
felt Candace crying, feeling
the vibrations of Candace's screams running down
her
arms, touching the edges of her heart, at least
Candace didn't
struggle—that would have been the end of
her, Amber thought.
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"Oh my God, how long has she been under?" Andy
screamed, to no one.
"I
don't know," a startling deep
molasses voice answered.
Andy
jerked a little when he heard the
Pastor
speak. He didn't realize someone had come
with him. Andy
reached out and grabbed Candace just as
the Pastor reached
down and pulled Amber up from the bottom.
The little girl seemed limp. Her eyes closed—red
rimmed—as
if she had been crying. Both men started
for shore, each holding drenched little girls
in their arms. Amber's
stark white body, encased in her red and
yellow bathing suit, glowed against the Pastor's
sable skin.
"God,
please let us have been in time," he
prayed silently.
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Magnolia
began running toward the men,
holding her children in their arms.
Candace had calmed
once she
was in her father's arms. Magnolia
saw Amber's limp body in the Pastor's
arms.
Panic ran
through her.
"Amber," Magnolia
cried out. "Oh my God! Amber!"
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Amber
felt like she was being pulled, up
from the ocean floor.
She felt dizzy. The
oxygen
would not
last
much longer. She started to cry. She
opened her eyes and
the water stung as it had before.
She let the ocean have her
and gave in to the
unconsciousness
that
had been waiting for her.
Amber
could feel something carrying her.
Was
she still in the ocean? It
felt like
it. Her
little
mind struggled
to find some kind of sign that
death had taken her. Was this what
is like
to die? Amber
was not
moving. She tried to swim but her
body seemed to ignore
her
pleas to move, to fight, to live.
"Amber…" she heard in the distance. The voice
sounded familiar, but it was so
far away. It felt like something was pulling Amber further into the darkness
of her mind.
"Oh my God! Amber!" the voice came again. It sounded
like her mother, she thought.
"Momma," Amber
screamed, "I'm here." No
sound plunged forth. Her
lips would not move, but she screamed
all the same in the depths that
no one could
hear.
The
light shimmered, was that an angel?
Was this heaven?
Was I dead?
She thought.
More
light was
coming through,
scattering the darkness
to where Amber could see the
red
of the
blood flowing
through
her eyelids.
She
willed them to move so she could
see heaven for the first
time.
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The
Pastor had begun CPR on Amber, trying
desperately
to
push out
all the water
that had collected
into her lungs. He
pushed on her chest and placed
his large
dark lips over her
small thin
white lips; he seemed
desperate to breathe
life into
the child
he had
swooped up from the
depths of the ebony ocean.
Andy
stood over them, not knowing
what to
do, as
he watched every
move the
Pastor made.
Finally,
the water in Amber's lungs
streamed out onto
the liquid soaked
ground. The
castle she was
building—half
finished—just
to her
left. Her mother's
face
above
with that
pain-filled look
she sometimes gets
when
she is sad. Tears
were streaming
down Magnolia's
face.
Amber
coughed and sputtered as the
air filled her
lungs. The
Pastor breathed
a sigh of relief.
The
little girl
was going to
be okay.
"Thank you sir, thank you so much," Magnolia said,
clasping her
arms around the Pastor. "I'm so grateful
you were here." She
said.
"Sometimes the Lord calls us to save more than just
souls," he
replied, walking
back towards
the big white
bus that had
large bright
blue letters
down the
side.
"Thanks," Andy
called after the Pastor.
The
Pastor waved in reply, as Andy
wiped Amber's
mouth furiously, as if she were
unclean now.
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It
hurt for Amber to
breathe—she
could breathe.
She was
on the red
salt sand.
She had made
it to shore.
She had
lived.
"Momma, where's Candace?" Amber asked.
"She's
right here, you saved her." Magnolia
answered.
Amber
saw her little sister standing
next
to her father as he was leaning
over Amber,
wiping
her
mouth,
seemingly intending to rub
it raw.
Andy
Picked Amber up off the ground
as Magnolia held Candace's
hand and they
began walking.
"I guess it was a good thing them niggers were here
after all," he said as he carried Amber back to
the car, ready to go home.
[Note
from the author: The Orange
Float is based on a true event
that occurred in New Smyrna Beach,
Florida in the late 1970's. The
names of those involved have been
changed.]
Previously
appeared in Issue 1, Artistry of Life Online Magazine.
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