My short story, New Roads, is about a woman adapting after a single event that changed everything. This scene describes that event.

No one said it was Jane’s fault when Mike Ketter drowned trying to keep up with her. And there had been drinking involved. According to Jane–who told and retold Maura the story too many times to count–one minute Mike was joking and splashing about, and the next, he was under the surface and never came back up. Jane thought he’d swum underneath to surprise her from behind. She’d spun and spun until she lost her bearings–they were over their heads by only a foot or so between sand bars–and then shrieked for Mike. For a moment she didn’t know which way was back–it was dark, calm, no moon. Then she felt the gentle current and heard music wafting in the distance from where her friends were drinking on the beach. She swam frantically to shore, hopeful that Mike had come in before her. But no. She stood on the sand, straining to see his head appear in the dark water. She yelled his name again and again. The others sobered up quickly and one of them ran to the closest farm to phone the police. It was a sad and sorry business. 

Jane shut herself in their bedroom for a month straight. When she did speak, she only ever spoke about the lake that night and the drowning, and only to Maura. Maura felt exalted to be needed and remained at Jane’s side, except to do chores. Then, at dawn one morning, while Maura slept, Jane left for the city, just like that. Maura lost her centre of gravity and fell hard.

(Excerpt from New Roads, by Valerie Hickey).

***

Unpredictable events can have a fairly predictable ripple effect. Not that we can control either, but it’s the kind of thing that makes you think about adaptation. Who adapts better: the Avoider who moves on quickly without examination? Or the Victim who examines until a lifetime has passed? Peace of mind comes with neither.