The Flood

There’s a certain type of friendship that holds a strange power over people like me. You might be thinking of those not-quite-a-friend-not-quite-a-bully type people who show up in almost every coming of age movie ever, but those I have always been immune to. Not because I have particularly high self worth or loads of confidence or anything… the opposite really. I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Always waiting for things to go wrong. And I always know when people are just being nice to set me up as the butt of a joke, or worse still... out of a sense of obligation. As a result, I have gotten pretty good at making myself invisible.

So what was I doing at the aquarium on a Friday evening in a frickin’ ball gown? She asked me to. The only person in the world I’d never been invisible to. We met in ballet class when we were eight. Neither of us were great at ballet but when you exude warmth, no one cares. She exuded warmth. I exuded a nervous energy that made my ineptitude stand out more than it really had a right to.

The rest of the girls shunned me, which I expected… even at that age. No amount of pink tulle could hide the fact that I didn’t belong. I never belonged. But then, “Lily, there’s room next to me”. Somehow, for some inexplicable reason, I had a friend. A best friend. Ava Peterson was my best friend.

Now I know how this is going to sound... but I wasn’t Ava’s best friend. That never mattered though. She had lots of friends, and she made space for all of them. But she knew what her friendship meant to me. What she meant to me. And more than that… she knew me.

That was why she had so much power over me. She understood that I was scared to do pretty much everything. She’d invite me to a sleepover or to a water park, but there was never any pressure. “It’s ok if you don’t want to. We can do something else another time if that’s not fun for you.” No judgement. No hurt feelings. No disappointed looks. Just acceptance.

And that’s how I ended up doing things no one else could ever get me to do. Because I so desperately wanted to say yes to her. With other friends they were disappointed in me if I opted out of adventures, and barely noticed if I joined in. With Ava, she was proud of me when I joined in. And god did I want her to be proud of me. She made me want to be brave. Which is how I found myself in the middle of an aquarium in a ball gown. Where are you, Ava?

Now, I should probably explain that at 24 years old, this was my first time inside of an aquarium. I’d been invited to parties at aquariums as a kid, but I’d never gone. Someone like me doesn’t just go into aquariums. And yet… I’d thought we were meeting out the front, that we’d all go in together. Me, Ava, Ava’s friends... I thought she’d be with me. Thought I’d be enveloped by her warmth as I entered the cold glass tunnel. Dammit, I’m late. They must have gone in already. I sent her a text. “Hey, you guys at the aquarium yet? Should I meet you inside?” I didn’t wait for a reply. I didn’t want to keep her waiting.

I felt the air change the moment I stepped through the archway. I knew it was in my head, but the air felt… less. Like there wasn’t enough oxygen in it. I tried to keep my breathing steady, tried to look casual as I paid the admission… as casual as you can look in a ball gown anyway. But I knew I didn’t have long to find Ava. I was running out of air. I know, I know, I already said the air was fine. I knew it was fine, but my body didn’t.

I’ve never done terribly well when I can’t see the sky. I need windows, doors… I need to be able to see the way out. I was in an IKEA when I had my first big panic attack. Not that it looked big… my skin got a little paler, my palms a little sweaty, and my footsteps became gradually faster till I got out of that goddamn flatpacked hell. I’d hidden it well though. My mum hadn’t even noticed anything was wrong. But now I was in a ball gown in an aquarium. I already looked out of place. I needed to stay calm.

I tried staring down as I walked. Tried to block out the water surrounding me. But the light shone through it making ripples on the floor. A normal person might have found the patterns calming. A normal person might have thought about how amazing it was to see into a watery world while staying perfectly dry. But I wasn’t normal. I was Lily. I made my way past a small child gently tapping their toy shark against the glass. I heard the glass crack. I kept walking. The cracks spread, chasing me along the tunnel, invisible to everyone else. Only existing inside my mind. My brain tried to calculate how fast the tunnel would fill if water only gently trickled in. I told myself I’d make out out in time. We’d all make it out in time. But it wouldn’t just be a trickle. There was too much water for that. The weight of it would shatter a hole the size of the shark shaped shadow drifting over me and we’d all be swept away within seconds. Would we be pushed along to the exit? Would the water push us out? Or would the doors fail, trapping us in a watery mass grave? There’d be no air left at all. There was far more water outside the tunnel than space within it. I tried to slow my thoughts as I frantically started scanning faces for Ava’s. If the glass broke it would be my fault. I would have made it happen. I needed to find her. Cold sweat trickled down my back and the ground felt constantly just a few inches higher than I expected it to be. I needed to stop my feet from trying to carry me faster. I saw a sign for the restrooms and made a sharp turn, nearly colliding with a child who seemed oblivious to the danger surrounding him. The bathroom door swung closed behind me and I wondered if I braced myself against it, how long I could buy myself when the inevitable flood happened. The room spun as I stumbled into a stall and locked the door. I wasn’t safe from the flood here but at least I was hidden. I checked my phone, no signal. Of course there was no signal I was under a bloody ocean. I needed to get out. Ava had probably tried to call me. Ava was probably looking for me. I needed to get outside where I could think. I needed to block out the flood. Needed something else to fill my brain with. I reached desperately for anything that wasn’t water and the only thing I found was the alphabet. I started reciting it in my mind as I made my way back into the tunnel and headed along what I hoped to god was the shortest path to actual air. By the time I got out letters had lost all meaning and the fingers clasping my phone had turned white. There was no missed call. Just a message. “Hey, sorry. Change of plans. We decided McDonald’s would be way more absurd in ball gowns. We just got here if you want to come.”

I managed to get home before the flood caught up with me. After messaging Ava to say I wasn’t able to make it after all. She wasn’t disappointed… she never was. It’s what she’d been expecting when she invited me to do something where I’d have to stand out. I’d never actually told her I wasn’t scared of standing out when I was next to her; that she was the only one who made it ok to be me. Because she knew. Didn’t she?

I sat on my bedroom floor with my back holding the door shut against the flood. But the flood was on the inside. It was always on the inside. Back in high school I’d message Ava when I felt like this - like I was drowning - but I’d been trying to need her less because I knew she didn’t need me…. not in the way I needed her anyway. And also a little bit because I was worried she might start to think I was in love with her. And also a little bit because I was worried I maybe was.

This had been the first time I was going to see her since before the pandemic. I tried to tell myself that it made sense to be nervous after that long. I’d never been nervous about seeing Ava before though, no matter how long it had been. But, like I said… I always know when people are being nice out of a sense of obligation. That’s why I’ve gotten so good at making myself disappear.