V I S I O N A R Y VICTORIA DAUGHEN When the baby fell, I had been looking at my leg. My feet didn’t reach the chalky cement, so they normally were tucked up, a slick mess of sunscreen and summer. I had missed a spot shaving, according to my insightful male coworker. I never stopped watching the pool. When I glanced at the shallow end, the close, the immediate, my ears and mind formed the vision of the depths, beyond. Insight requires more than just what’s in sight. I never saw the missed spot. Maybe because it didn’t exist, or maybe because my concentration was on my periphery instead of my leg. The corner of my eye, the pinnacle of focus yet slightest of sight. That’s how I saw him go down. Go faster! She screamed. I thought it was my boss. It was her voice, definitely. She was catching up behind me, next to me, as I ran. Feet scraped concrete. The water was hard as my foot broke the surface. But it wasn’t the water, it was the base. This was shallow. Why wasn’t he sitting up? It was five inches of water. There was the screaming in my ears again. I was going to fall, to slip. Go faster! Words lost in the rush of my ears, I was now the one who couldn’t breathe as I saw him. Flat on his back, eyes wide open, mouth bubbling still in a silent scream. The only scream I couldn’t hear. Was there a way I was supposed to do this? Just get him out! Plunging downward, the water seemed to sheer off in layers as the liquid seal broke. With his cry, the roaring, rushing, screaming stopped. And I realized there was silence, and I was alone. My boss had just risen from her chair, whistle dangling, eyes stricken. His mother, his father, his aunt stood at the edge of the baby pool. Frozen in shock, they hadn’t moved. He was bleeding. He was bleeding? I handed him to his mother. Just a nosebleed. 86
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