Part 35: Cellar Solo

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Previously in the Vines Inquiry— Harlow and Blevin continued fighting for their lives against a hungry pack of cougars. While Blevin tried to outsmart the cats in a cellar archive, Harlow fell into the Vines’ swamp-like pool; surrounded by chlorine fog and slobbering felines.

Harlow had no time. Not even a chance to think. Somewhere, in other universes, she knew that she’d already been eaten. Or had gotten up, almost made it to the stairs only for her Achilles tendon to tear as a mountain lion caught it with one claw.

She struggled on her stomach, ignoring the shame of how hard it was and the pain under her fingernails as she tore at the uneven grout between the deck tiles. The insides of both her knees scratched along the floor while her ring finger found the edge of the pool. She tumbled into the water, just as the cougar that had been sniffing behind her emerged from the fog out of the corner of her eye. 

It must have heard the splash, so Harlow fought to stay under as every instinct told her to surface. No, she was calm— just a quick dip in the pool on a hot summer night. She was years away from here, waiting for her next mojito to arrive instead of suffocating her prayers underwater, even as the tiny bubbles that escaped between her lips carried their wishes to the surface.

If the cougar came, it would come soon. She might have a small advantage. A second’s chance while the cat flailed. She could make it to the edge, pull herself up…hobble along the pool deck.

“What about the other one?”

It was her father’s voice, a baritone chord played on velvet strings. She considered an answer while the remaining air burned in her lungs. The sting of the foul water in her eyes gave way to the pains of her knees and elbows. What she was doing could not last. The center could not hold. 

Harlow let herself rise to the surface and waded, her chin just above the water’s horizon. The fog was heavier again, like her exertion had clouded the room. It felt like the vaporized chemicals in the air had coated her lungs. Her heart sped up, way more than it should from just swimming. Way more than it ever had. Her dress finally tied her legs, dragging her down, making her kicks futile. She heard a splash and whirled.

The fog was too thick. There’s something else in the pool!? She panted, tiny wheezing breaths coming in through her nose. A current flowed past her leg. 

There was something else in the pool. 

“Hey,” said a voice from the far side of the room. Harlow struggled around again, and there she was. Sitting upright, legs taut, on a pool lounger.

Her mother, Lillian. 

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Younger. Late-teens. She looked like Stella, or the reverse. In a two-piece swimsuit, no less. All sinew, abs and tanning oil. Harlow blinked and Lillian looked her proper age again. The two images meshed together, overlaid— a wet paper coaster that hadn’t dried right. Lillian leaned forward in the lounger with her People magazine folded over. She used one long finger to hold her place while another pointed at Harlow.

“Hey!” she said again, snapping. 

Harlow held her mother’s gaze and tried to talk, but it felt like if she opened her mouth, the whole pool would flow in. She gulped and whined, her tears mixing with the water Lillian looked around the deck, moving to stand, but she was stuck to the lounger. The back of her lugs had sealed with the vinyl, squishing an awful tearing sound into the room as she struggled. She stopped, focusing in on Harlow.

“I’m right here, Lolo.” Lillian’s voice sounded clear and close; as if she were in the pool, balancing her daughter’s feet on her knees while they spun around. “I’m right here. You’re fine, huh? Say it with me. ‘I’m fine.’” 

Harlow nodded. Stammered. She started to speak. 

“I’m—.” 

Behind her, the cougar snarled and batted at the water. It tested the surface again. 

“Momma, it’s gonna come in!” screeched Harlow.