We were wild, every one of us, often unclothed because it was easier to dive into the water and swim like fish, then swing on ropes to get back aboard. I held him in my arms most of the time, I swam with his face by my shoulder, his little hands curled against me. I made sure he didn’t fall, but it was wild, I said it was wild, didn’t I? I loved him, and he drowned while I was meant to be watching him. That’s what I dream of. His tiny bare feet on the deck, pitter-pattering toward me, and his laugh as I catch him.
