Life boat

He hadn’t been swimming for very long when he saw the boat; it disappeared over the cusp of the next wave and broke his concentration. One more long stroke and he was along side it again. It looked so out of context there in the steel grey water, it was the sort of boat for a pond or paddling pool, an old fashioned toy, certainly never intended for a channel crossing. He pushed on past it cursing it for stalling him on his path. Now that he had seen the boat the outside world he had been ignoring since he entered the water clamoured for attention, the cold stung, the waves smacked his face most impolitely, the raw smell of the sea filled every space in his head and the tears mixed with the spray, the sea salt returning home.
The boat bobbed past again, almost jolly, unaware of how treacherous it’s mission. There was a small teddy strapped to the mast and his small arms struck straight out as if he was waving. Mark had a bear like that when he was small, he would never be parted from it. That bear had been a constant for so long, it was accepted by all the family, everyone spoke to Lamage as if he were real. His wife often said Lamage knew her family better than she did; he certainly outlasted most of them. He was still there somewhere, waiting, Mark had said, for the next generation to pass on the secrets he had learned. Well he would wait forever now.
He raised his head took a breath and surged forward again, but on every up move the bloody boat was there and a sound, familiar sound whipping past every now and then, what was it doing out here? Crying, he turned and when a wave lifted him up looked back to the beach, there was the other half of the story and mother and child looking out to sea. He felt sure they hadn’t seen him, his dark hair against the sea wasn’t visible. Someone was crying for the loss of a bear, no one was crying for him, just the bear.
He turned over in the water and lay back, the numbness from the cold didn’t stop the hard lump in his throat which nearly choked him. But never had, waiting for the grief to finish him off hadn’t worked, nothing had worked but this would. He allowed himself a moment rest and the luxury of thinking of her one last time. Cathy would have loved to be a grandmother, but when Mark talked about having a family she had always laughed it off and said he was too young, so he had waited. Would that have changed things now, if he had Mark’s son, Cathy’s grandson or daughter around to cling on to? Maybe, but a lot of things might have helped, yet nothing did, it was a hole un-fill able by anything or anyone.
The boat was listing dangerously, soon the bear would take on water and it would weigh too much and pull the boat under. The mother was puling at the child’s arm and probably promising a new bear, a new boat. But that wouldn’t help; the real bear would be lost. John had always been a considerate man, a soft man Cathy said. He could have slipped under the water right here along side the boat, but he had studied the current chart and chosen a place further out where he would be carried out to sea, and hopefully save anyone the horrible surprise of finding his body. That would have made her laugh, well maybe this was a step too far for even Cath’s humour ,but it was so typical of him.
But how can one overturn the habits of a life time, even in death I am who I am. The boat nudged his side and tipped sideways. The child, still screaming, was now being dragged up the beach. John couldn’t imagine what they would think when he emerged from the water and for the first time in a long time he smiled and realised he had decided, at least on a postponement. He pulled the boat to him and clasped it in one hand and kicked out doing a lopsided back stroke towards the shore.