While we were waiting for the pack to get in touch with us, GiGi suggested I take up swimming again. I hadn't gone near a pool for the last two years, but with her encouragement, I decided to dive back in.
It wasn't long before I was spending my weekends in Blackpool at one of the leisure centres, and I was immensely happy to be back in the water. I'd missed it, and it was a good way to unwind and let out some of the recent tension plaguing me.
After a few sessions, however, I realised that I wanted to do more than just swim. I wanted to dive deep, to explore the underwater world without needing to come up for air all the time. So I decided to learn freediving. GiGi was impressed when I told her.
"You're going to fit in well with your new pack," she told me that afternooon. "They're more comfortable in the water than they are on dry land. And their packhouse is a floating residence, so they can take it wherever they wish."
I was impressed - less so when GiGi referred to them as my new pack (but I was willing to let that go) - and this spurred me on to learning as much as I could, not just so I could "fit in", of course, but also because I wanted to.
I didn't want to break any records, of course, but my instructor - Barry - told me he was going to teach me everything I needed to know about freediving. In his words, one could never know when one might need to hold one's breath for a long time.
"I was a surfer," he told me, the afternoon I had my first lesson. "And you know we wipeout all the time. And occasionally we get caught in two-wave holddowns. They're not pleasant, I can tell you.
"But I was young and cocky, and a bit full of myself, and I didn't really believe there was such a thing." He chuckled. "I got educated pretty damn quickly on my second surf.
"I paddled as hard as I could to catch this one wave, and when I stood up the lip of the wave threw me forward. I fell for a second or two and got the wind knocked out of me. Then I felt myself get sucked backwards by my feet and then pulled up and thrown back over the falls. This time the impact wasn't as hard because the weight of the barrel already penetrated the surface so my body just followed that path under the water.
"After falling from the top of a probably 16ft. wave and then going over the falls, the wave kept pushing me toward shore tossing me around. I had no idea what to do and just rag dolled for a bit tumbling with the wave. After probably 10 more seconds of rag dolling, I thought I had a chance to make it to the surface so I just kicked my legs and pulled through the water... Unforunately, I'd gone in the wrong direction and hit the bottom."
He shook his head, his smile gone as memory darkened his eyes. "I jumped off the sea floor to get to the surface, and this is when the panic set in. I had never experienced not being able to pull above the surface, but the whitewater was so thick I couldn't get my head above. When I saw light I gasped for air, but all I really saw was the light in the foam so I ended up inhaling all foam and water.
"Then the next wave hit and pushed me deep, flipping me around. So now I have been under for probably 20-25 seconds, and you have to remember I got the wind knocked out of me right off the bat so I have no air at all. This second impact disoriented me and I remember thinking I would never make it back up. Not with the white water and the third wave looming behind."
I shuddered. "I can't imagine something like that," I said, my skin crawling at the images his words painted in my mind.
Barry smiled thinly. "Neither could I, but there I was," he said. "It was definitely the most unpleasant experience of my life. I remember thinking about thousands of different things about my life within one quick second. Then I started swallowing water, and even the brightness in my thoughts got darker. I don't really remember popping to the surface, but when I did I found my board and threw my self across it and proceeded to puke up all the sea water. I was puking and gasping at the same time. The sunlight was pulsating dark to light. I had no idea how I got out. I remember looking behind me and there was no third wave. I somehow managed to get myself back to shore, and I fell on the sand and cried, my body heaving in sobs, the tears just pouring down my face, until I wasn't sure if the wetness on my face was tears or seawater.
"When I recovered, I made myself a promise to learn how to effectively hold my breath so I'd never experience that sort of panic again. And now, some thirty years later, I teach the same thing to everyone who comes through those doors. And the very first thing I say to them is: don't panic. Panicking uses up your oxygen faster, and the more you thrash about, the less air you'll have in your lungs to enable you to get to the surface."
I nodded, remembering my fight with Sarah the night I'd lost my foot. "What do you suggest?" I asked.
Barry chuckled. "It's really simple," he told me. "Try to go as deep as possible. Hang out, relax, make yourself a ham sandwich. I know it sounds counter-intuitive, but the deeper you are the less of a beating you'll receive. Lastly, keep in mind that it may seem like an eternity underwater, but stay calm and breathe out slowly. In other words, go with the flow."
"That's pretty sound advice," I said, "but, well, no offence, you could be caught in a situation and it all goes out the window."
"I know," Barry agreed. "And it happened to me quite a few more times before those lessons became second nature to me. It will be the same for you. It's going to take a few repetitions before it'll become ingrained in your mind, and you will flail about as everything I've taught you flies out of your head. But over time, the more you practice it, the easier it becomes, until you find yourself reciting the ABCs, and wondering just how the hell Joe from Accounting managed to screw up the budget for the third year in a row."
I laughed. "We actually do have a Joe who does accounting in my office," I said. "But he's only screwed the budget up once. Leesa told him she'd have his guts for garters if it ever happened again, and I think he got the message pretty quickly."
Barry chuckled again. "Wise man," he said, before sobering up. "And one more thing. This is probably the most crucial piece of advice I can give you. Do not, under any circumstances, hyperventilate before going under. It's the build up of carbon dioxide which triggers the need to breathe. If you hyperventiliate, you trick the brain into thinking you've got way more air than you do. But the carbon dioxide actually gets reduced, so in reality, you're actually running on less air than you believe, and less time than you believe."
"And then you blackout," I guessed.
"Bingo," Barry said, his face grim. "And if you happen to blackout underwater... well, you'd better hope you've got a diving buddy with you, or your family's going to be planning your funeral. You know about shallow water blackouts, then?"
I nodded. "One of my cousins tried holding her breath alone," I said, wincing at the memory. "She probably believed herself the next Jacques Cousteau or something. My ... uncle found her floating facedown a few hours later, and, well, we had a funeral the next day. My... uncle was kicking himself, because he and Bess had had a fight the day before about her almost drowning the day before, so she must have decided to show him she was 'smart' around water." I sighed. I had felt sorry for Ben, but I did wonder if Bess had in fact been driven to suicide. I decided those were matters not worth pursuing, not when I recalled Bess had been Sarah's twin sister, or when I remembered she and I had been incredibly close, or when I remembered how insanely jealous Sarah had been.
Barry touched my arm. "I know," he said quietly, and I looked at him, surprised. There was a look of understanding in his eyes, and I got the distinct impression he really did know. Not just about my pain over Bess's death, but also about my suspicions over the circumstances surrounding her death. It was a prickly sensation, but at the same time, I didn't feel uncomfortable at all. Rather, it felt more unusual than anything, to have an almost complete stranger understand me, without me having said much at all beyond the surface.
I took a deep breath. "Thanks," I said, and Barry nodded, reclaiming his usual easygoing manner. "Are there any other tips?"
"I can teach you underwater rock running," Barry said. "That's one way to increase lung capacity. But just remember those things I told you before. They will be the lessons that keep you alive when you're being tossed around in what feels like a giant washing machine. Everything else is secondary."
I nodded, again getting the feeling that Barry was telling me something more than just those vital tips. It still felt odd, but in a way, it was comforting to know I had an ally, without anything needing to be said.
And I had the impression I was going to need all the allies I could get.
Ben and Sarah would not let me go so easily, not when Sarah was out for revenge, and Ben still had those unsavoury designs towards me.
And like it or not, I knew now, more than ever, I had to swear to this new pack. I just prayed GiGi would get a response. Time was slipping away, and I had the nasty feeling Ben and Sarah would soon grow impatient enough to risk jail time, if by doing so they could get their hands on me.
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