Drained
As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.
-Sylvia Plath
For the past few hours I had been sitting at my grandma Meem’s vanity surrounded by little pots of rouge, golden tubes of lipstick, and a two-foot statue of the Virgin Mary. As I slathered on the rest of her Oil of Olay, I glanced in the mirror at my handiwork. There were at least five different shades of blush on my cheeks and my grandma said I looked like a French hooker, whatever that is.
Meem came up behind me and put a small, unwrapped cardboard box on the vanity. “Happy seventh birthday, honey. Sorry your present is late.”
I jumped up, wrapping my arms around her waist. She always smelled the same, Dove beauty bars and Evening in Paris eau de parfum. I grabbed the box and tore it open, finding a long strand of gorgeous purple pearls. “They’re beautiful!” I cried, draping the plastic beads around my neck.
“I got the same one, but in white!” she grinned, all eight teeth showing.
I rubbed the pearls against my face; they smelled like cat pee and the plastic seams scratched my neck, but Meem and I matched and we were beautiful. Even better, my best friend Heather and I had been invited to a birthday party the next afternoon. I decided that it would be the perfect time to show them off to my friends.
*
I can’t remember the birthday girl’s name, only that she was the daughter of a local preacher, and they had rented a hotel pool that frigid Saturday afternoon in February. I felt a little ridiculous going swimming in the middle of winter, but I was too excited to care. I loved pool parties! Mom even bought me a new bathing suit, speckled with purples, greens, and yellows, complete with a pink bow on the butt; my new pearls matched perfectly.
My mom dropped Heather and I off in front of the Holiday Inn around noon, and we made our way down a long corridor into the hotel atrium. The first thing I remember was the balmy air - the humidity instantaneously frizzed my thick hair. We put our gifts on the tables decorated with orange and pink streamers.
Passing the food table, my glance fell on the Little Mermaid cake. It looked good, but Heather and I were already suited up, so I dropped my towel and made a beeline for the pool, forgetting to take my pearls off.
We were in the midst of an elegant underwater tea party when I heard a blood-curdling scream. Resurfacing, I tried to make sense of what the preacher’s wife was yelling. She pointed towards the water, redirecting my gaze. Before I could focus my eyes, a pair of strong arms pulled me out of the water. I felt the necklace tighten around my neck. Please don’t break. More women shouted, while the men dove into the choppy water. I saw my pearls fly through the air, landing on the birthday cake. Then I saw the little blonde girl. She was hovering motionless just above the drain near the bottom of the pool.
Lifeguards were called. The hotel’s front desk was called. Maintenance was called. The pumps were shut off, and the pool began to drain. The fire department was there in five minutes, but it took them fifteen more to free the little girl. I watched the water level dwindle around the knees of the paramedics, their hands working frantically underwater. There was nothing they could do. She had drowned. It was the preacher’s daughter.
She swam too close to the pool’s drain. Her long hair got caught in the grating and the suction was too strong.
The medics handed the lifeless body to the parents. They’d cut her hair from the drain’s grate. Dead, she had short hair, blue skin, and didn’t even look like the same little girl. Her mother hunched over, body rocking with silent sobs. The preacher, holding their only child lifeless in his arms, let tears stream down his face. I couldn’t look away.
They called our parents. I had just enough time to rescue my necklace from the tentacles of a buttercream Ursula before everyone was led outside. As we waited for our rides, my dripping hair began to freeze; there hadn’t been time to dry off amid all the chaos. The inside of my pea coat was wet, and I was starting to feel uncomfortable. I squeezed my hands together to make sure I hadn’t dropped my necklace. Frosting oozed between my knuckles.
Sticky pearls…
Snow flurries had begun falling by the time my mother’s Mazda pulled up. We rode home in silence.