Seven
A seven year-old comrade was found drowned during an outing at a swimming pool organised by my first school when I was seven. No one knew how. All the kids went back to their parents, and there were charges filed against the instructor and the institution.
I did know little Esteban, but I also wished for that to remain a buried memory, something “dodgy” about it all. Funny to think about him now, when I've had time to forget.
To this day, after all those decades ago, no one has found the culprit, when the drowning was ruled a murder, nor did I follow-up on him or his family. Could someone have held him underwater and not remember? I've had tortured dreams about it, yet I don't have an answer.
Everyone was questioned about the incident, but I had nothing pivotal to share. With true anxiety, the incident came back to me with a vicious snap into my ID. Perhaps, I don't remember everything…
© Text: Orlando Barahona
© Photo: Robert Carpenter/Flickr
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