"But what pushed me? Did they actually call the police?" swirled chaotically in my head.
"Stop!" a woman's voice commanded sharply. "You don’t want this, Constantin. We don’t want this."
I began looking around, twisting back and forth, my body coiling through space.
"Who stopped me back then? Was I even with a girl?"
* * *
"Back with us, I see," Oscar said, pulling off his rubber boot and pouring the leftover water back into the lake.
"Where’s Selena?" I asked, staring blankly at the small footbridge where my own shadow flickered.
"She dropped us off and left right away—forgot already? Not surprising, though. In your usual style, you face-planted into the lake first thing. Maybe you should get a floatie, or, I dunno… armbands? Can’t exactly stretch a safety net over the whole lake."
I looked at the kid as he grimaced, pulling the wet boot back onto his foot, then wiped his palm on the leg of his coveralls. The coveralls, oddly enough, were completely dry.
"Oz," I said quietly, "tell me straight—what’s going on here?"
"What does it look like?" he shot back.
The kid’s eyes seemed older than he was. Only now did it hit me—his wisdom didn’t match his naive, childlike face at all.
"Am I dead?" I asked, fighting back nausea.
Oscar burst out laughing and stood up.
"Man, Constantin, you’re something else. If you were dead, how could we have had such a fun time together? Or do you think I’m dead too?"
"I don’t understand any of this," I said hopelessly.
"Yeah, no kidding," the kid shook his head. "You can’t even figure yourself out—no way you’ll get the rest. Alright, here’s the deal. You help me fix the roof and patch up the house before Grandpa gets back. And I’ll… gradually explain everything."
I looked at the kid, then at the lake (its calm surface stretching wide), then back at the kid—and nodded.
I’d already realized I didn’t have a choice.
Summer was coming to an end. At least, that’s what Oscar had convinced me of, and the increasingly frequent downpours and dropping temperatures seemed to confirm it.
About two weeks had passed since I’d last seen Selena. Every night before bed, a bitter frustration gnawed at me—we’d parted on such a sour note. And yet, she’d only ever treated me with good intentions.
Oscar kept insisting the hippie girl wasn’t holding a grudge and might even visit again someday, but my memory—much like the relentless rains—kept tormenting me with fragments of the past. Reminding me how I used to snap at people, with or without reason, completely unable to control my emotions or stop myself in time.
Humility was never part of my communication skills.
After nights spent stewing in regret, I’d throw myself into work each morning, hoping to exhaust my body enough to escape the insomnia.
I’d fixed the roof—just in time before the rainy season. Patched every crack and hole in the cabin. Whitewashed the ceilings, repainted the walls, buying all the supplies I needed from the local hardware store… on credit. At this point, I’d lost track of how many people in the area I owed. Honestly, drowning in the lake would’ve been easier than tallying up my debts to the entire village.
As for that strange, recurring incident, Oz still hadn’t given me a straight answer, brushing it off as another one of my memory lapses.
Every time I felt like I was on the verge of understanding—of remembering something—I’d end up back in the lake. Eventually, it became automatic. I’d just swim out calmly, no panic, no struggle.
