Our Airbnb inched into my vision from the back seat window of our car. It was dark blue, almost gray. One might say it resembled the skin of a Great White shark, but I tried not to think about that. Old, chipping, white shutters enclosed each of the windows. Bushes on either side of the entrance were blooming with pink flowers. Rocky steps led to the front door, which my dad unlocked. He also carried my suitcase into the house after I managed to convince him that it was far too heavy for me to carry on my own. If I had not known we were in Cape Cod, one step into this house would’ve given it away. The beds of each of the three rooms had a set of beach themed sheets. Sailboat sheets, anchor sheets, and fish sheets. Of course, the accent pillows were ocean themed as well. Bars of soap in the bathroom were shaped like sea stars, and the shower curtain was a blue and white striped fabric. The further I explored the house, the more I became indulged in the scenery of beach cliches. A framed image of a Sperm Whale watched over me as I sat on the couch. On top of the  coffee table in front of me was a glass vase filled with seashells. In the kitchen, the white cabinets contained blue plates and a variety of mugs. Cape Cod mugs, beach mugs, and… a shark mug. Obviously, I am not afraid of a mug with a shark on it, but it served as a grim reminder that I would never be able to fully relax during my stay. I could not sit inside all week, as nice as the house was. My parents had been insistent on that. No… I have to suck it up and go to the beach. Into the water which the voice in my head convinced me contained nothing but danger. 

I made a vow to myself that I would face my fear. It was time for me to swim with the sharks. 

To try to silence the stream of anxieties that never ceased in my mind, I stepped out onto the back porch. A gentle breeze helped me to feel at peace in the 87℉ weather. The local beach was close enough for the sounds of crashing waves to reach me. It was the perfect vacation spot. Distant water shimmered and served as the perfect haven for most people on a hot summer day. But to me, the ocean was a dark abyss, full of the unknown. Crashing waves were a soothing sound with horrible connotations. They would only carry the vultures of the Atlantic closer to shore… Enough. I was trapped in an endless loop of fear like a seal caught in the jaws of a monster with five rows of jagged teeth. 

“Layla, did you put your suitcase in your room?” My dad asked.

“Huh?” With images of the open mouth of a Great White still plastered in my brain, I hadn’t registered what he was saying.

“I asked if you had unloaded all your bags into the house. We’re gonna go check out the beach so you should probably get ready” He said.

The inevitable had arrived. We had come early with the intent to spend the day at the beach. I threw on a black bathing suit and shuffled out the door behind my family. Our sandals smacked against the concrete in unison. 

Smack. Smack. Each rhythmic lift of the sandals signaled that we were getting closer to the place I dreaded most. It was not long before my steps were flinging sand up and onto my feet. Grains pelted my calves as if they were poking and reminding me of our dreaded destination. A tilted sign labeled “Oyster Beach” stood before a wooden staircase which led us down to the coastline.

The crashing waves were no longer muted by comforting distance. I scanned the navy mass in front of me for shark fins that poked out among the ripples. All I saw was the bobbing heads of happy families. How can they be so careless? Don’t they realize that at any second they could be ripped apart? I sighed and began to set up my pink towel on the sand.

“You gonna go swimming, Layla?” My mom asked as she prepared to fry in the sun. She had sworn to herself that she’d be tan by the end of the week.

“I guess” I responded. Sure, I was gonna try to get in the water, but I wasn’t sure how much swimming was going to be happening.

“Let me know if the water’s nice. Maybe I’ll take a dip myself” She replied with her face now buried in her towel while she tanned her back.

“Careful out there, you know Chatham's a hot spot for sharks” my dad teased from his green and blue beach chair. It was all a joke to him. He wouldn’t be laughing when they pulled me ashore with my tendons hanging out of my shoulders in place of my arms. Annoying as it was, nothing he said was something that I hadn’t already thought of myself. For weeks I had been researching previous shark attacks in Chatham to know what I was in for. It was my way of preparing for what I may face in the carnivorous waves before me. 

I squeezed sunscreen onto my skin and lathered it onto my arms with deliberate slowness. I’m going to go in once I finish applying my sunscreen. I swear. 

After more than enough layers of sunscreen, and skin that now sparkled in the sun, I made my way toward the water. But wait, don't they say you should let sunscreen dry for about half an hour before getting it wet? I hesitated. No no no. Waiting will only make me more afraid. I pushed forward. The sand beneath my feet changed from soft and loose to stiff and wet. This sand would be nice for building a sand castle… why don’t I just do that? I have all week to get comfortable in the water… Stop! I wouldn’t let myself turn back now. To start, I dipped my toes into the stream of water that came forward with the waves. There’s no way a shark would be over here where it’s so shallow. The water was up to my ankles now. A wave soared toward me and caused a splash that reached my thighs.

Icy water struck my body, and images of disaster flashed in my mind. Blue water filling with a red fog. Shark week specials of playful teens who had mistakenly traveled past the buoy that marked where the danger began. Limbless torsos being pulled ashore. A whistle screaming in my ears over and over.

Get out of water! Everyone get out of the water now! Shark!!

The frantic screams ceased to exist once another wave hit and forced me to return to the reality of a sweet summer day. The only screams here were the cheers of children playfully tossing a ball back and forth and the screech of a girl whose brother had just splashed water on her. See? All good fun… No danger after all. 

Inch by inch, I went out further into the sea. Every time the water reached a higher point on my body, the sense of doom increased. I stood with the water up to my waist for a while. I can go further. I took another step onto the rocky surface beneath me. If I moved slow enough, I could see into the ocean to make sure nothing was coming toward me. Another step forward and… 

“AHHHHHHH!”
My foot had made contact with something. Something slimy. I knew this was a bad idea! I just stepped right on the nose of a shark. Oh I’m really gonna pay for this now. It’s all over.

I sprinted as fast as I could with the tension of the water pushing against me. With every stride I took toward the sand, my brain filled with images of a shark biting at my calves, teeth ready to sink into my muscles. I’m done for. There’s gonna be a Shark Week special all about me. The whole world is gonna see my body torn to shreds.

I was at least 10 feet from the water before I realized I was actually back on land. Alive. As I looked around, I saw no life guard frantically blowing his whistle, and no fins sticking out of the water. What I saw was clumps of seaweed that had washed ashore. Pathetic, maybe, but it was enough to make me sit the ocean out for the rest of the day. I did my best, right? That was progress. Not success, but progress.

I collapsed down onto the wet sand. I would be building a sand castle today after all, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Those people out there can risk their lives all they want. They can be the ones on Shark Week, not me. Nope. I’m just gonna build a nice, danger-free, non life-threatening sand castle. I’d rather be pathetic than dead.