burst

I remember that day so vividly.

We'd been told time and time again not to play there. Not to go beyond the chain-link fence at the edge of the village. We had the run of the quiet dirt roads, the open gardens of our home and our neighbours' homes. But we weren't to venture beyond the fence at any time, for any reason. It wasn't safe.

Of course, that meant we had to. It was a challenge, not an order, wasn't it?

We imagined all sorts of horrible goings-on beyond the fence. Even though nothing was really hidden by it. We could see what was there. It wasn't really dangerous, was it?

Dangerous was something you couldn't see.

Dangerous was falling down the rainwater drain in the kerbside. Falling into the sewers below and being swept along in our neighbours' wastewater. The foul water filling our mouths, our noses, our eyes and our ears before anyone could hear us calling out.

Dangerous was strange men in strange cars offering us sweets. Men who shouldn't be approaching girls our age. We'd been told what dangers lay in accepting candy from strangers. Those men were old and odd, and we weren't interested in them. But we knew they were dangerous even then, so we never entertained the thought of breaking the rules for a few morsels of candy.

Dangerous was playing too near the nuclear power plant that overlooked our village. We'd heard the local butcher telling our parents stories of animals that had wandered too close to the plant that had developed strange defects and growths. He'd slaughtered them with his own hand but buried them rather than selling their flesh to the village, even as feed for other animals.

But beyond the fence, all we could see was the sea. The beautiful ocean shimmered in the sunlight. Blue as the blue sky above it. The waves generated a cacophony of sound that reached our bedrooms. That lulled us to sleep each night in summer when the salty air wafted in through open windows to cool us.

We watched the waves draw up over the shingle while the boys played football in the street. Our fingers curved around the metal diamonds in the fence. We pressed our foreheads against the intersections of metal and watched the foam as it inched its way up over the dry pebbles. Drawing away to reveal wet pebbles. We were mesmerised.

It was our birthday.

Maybe that's why we were such good friends and had been for so long. We were born on the same day, in the same hospital. Our mothers hadn't known each other. They met in the maternity ward and her family ended up moving to our village just after. We'd heard the story over and over. We didn't really care about the details, we just wanted to go out and play together, and rolled our eyes each time our mothers retold how they'd met.

We each had a balloon in the shape of a star. The star in each was transparent. We pulled faces at each other through them. We pushed our noses and mouths against the plastic to distort our features. We laughed until we thought we might burst.

We ran along the street to the fence with our balloons flying in the air behind us. The boys were playing football, as usual, but we were more intent on seeing, if we ran fast enough, would the balloons lift us off the road? Would the run-up we had and the lightness of the balloons allow us to take off and carry us up and over the fence?

It was worth a try.

But, of course, it was a fool's errand. It was fun, but not going to get us where we wanted.

Instead, we knew there was a section of the fence that had been cut away. Opened up by older kids to access the shingle beach so they could gather after dusk to drink and skim stones on the ocean and make out.

We checked the boys were still distracted by football. That no one was watching.

We shimmied through the fence. Protective of our summer dresses and balloons as we did so. Not wanting to tear one or burst the other.

We made our way down to the water, kicking our jelly shoes off as we got closer. We slowed, the shingle awkward and uncomfortable under our bare feet. Despite that, we continued forward. Intent on feeling the coolness of the water on our small toes. Knowing we were doing wrong but doing it anyway.

Because it was our birthday. We could do anything on our birthday.

She waded into the water ahead of me. The waves lapped at our hands, we giggled and laughed together, the ribbon of our balloons still clasped tightly in our fists.

Behind us, suddenly, we heard a collection of screams. The screeching of brakes. We turned back toward the fence and the road beyond. We instinctively reached out for each other's hand and held our breath.

She let go of her balloon. It wafted gently on the wind back toward the fence.

We watched in horror, everything feeling like it was in slow motion, as our parents and our friend's parents ran out into the street.

We watched as her father scooped up her brother's lifeless body from the road. We watched, horrified, and wondered if this was why our parents had warned us about going beyond the fence. If this was why it was dangerous.

Even now, we wonder if it was our fault.