I take a moment to recompose myself as I stand in shock. My throat burns. I probably swallowed a bunch of lake water during the rescue.
A few random strangers shake my hand and pat my back. They tell me that I’m a hero. They tell me that I saved that little girl’s life.
But all I can think about is Maddie. How she used to be that size. How easily this could’ve been her.
I move toward the lifeguard tower in a daze. Ryan’s there, phone clutched in his hand, looking like a shell-shocked soldier. His mouth twitches as he tries to find the right words.
“Just got off the phone with our boss. He wants you to take the rest of the day off,” he tells me.
I want to argue and tell him that I’m fine, but I know better than to go against our boss’s orders. And truthfully, I don’t think I could focus on anything right now. I’m in no state to be lifeguarding. It feels like my heart has been wrung like a wet towel.
I nod.
“Mason,” Ryan says shakily. “I’m sorry. I should’ve—”
“Stop talking,” I snap, eyes screwed shut with anger. “This job is serious. You need to grow the hell up and pay attention.”
He swallows hard and nods. “I will. I promise.”
I can’t stay here any longer. I quickly gather my belongings and retreat to my truck. I feel my body drifting the whole way there, like my legs are on autopilot, moving on their own.
As soon as I slide into the front seat, a sob rips out of my throat. I cross my arms over the steering wheel and bury my face, tears spilling uncontrollably.
I cry for a long time. For Hannah. For her mom. For how close it came.
***
After I let out all of my emotions, I feel eviscerated—hollowed out like a melon scooped clean with a spoon. It’s strange and uncomfortable. I don’t want to feel like this.
So, I drive to the Old Harbor Tavern.
A voice in the back of my head tells me not to dull my pain with alcohol. That I shouldn’t be like my parents. But I ignore it as I park my truck and walk inside.
The moment I step through the door, the chatter quiets. Eyes glide toward me like magnets. I hear my name muttered across the room, hushed and nervous. Gossip travels fast in a small town like Claremont Shores.
“Dude,” Luke says, wide-eyed as I approach the bar. “I heard what happened at the beach with that little girl. Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I say tersely, sitting down. “Just want a beer.”
“It’s on the house,” Luke insists.
“No—”
“Seriously, man. You better get used to the hero treatment. People are gonna be talking about this for weeks.”
He fills a glass from the tap and slides it to me. My shoulders tense, hunched tight. I don’t want attention. I don’t want praise. I just want to forget all about it. I can’t think about the way her small, fragile body felt in my arms, unmoving.
I take a long sip of the beer. I don’t even realize how big of a gulp it is until I look down at the glass and see it’s half empty.
“Hey,” says a voice beside me.
I look over to see a middle-aged woman. She has blonde hair that’s cut short and angular, the classical “Karen” cut. She has a soft, timid smile on her face.
“You’re Mason Burke, right?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Tina’s friend.”
